Fractured (11 page)

Isabella couldn't help but remember back when she was that same age. Frequently, she'd go on El trips with her mother and grandfather. To her it was sort of like going to an amusement park. She loved watching the scenery go by in fast motion. She even loved the rock and sway of the El as it made its way on its bumpy track to its destination.

“Chicago Loop,” the conductor announced prior to the stop. Most of the people got off there. The mother gathered up her children to leave. The little girl with the picture stopped and handed it to Isabella. “This is for you.” She said the words in Spanish.

Isabella smiled and muttered “
Gracias
.” It wasn't until after they left that she turned the paper over and spotted the note.

Isabella's hands shook as she read the note. “Detective Sanchez, there's been a change of plans. Take the red line to 87
th
Street. I'll get in contact with you there.”

The woman and her children were long gone and the train had started moving once again. Frustrated, she opened her phone and dialed Landry. “Where are you?”

“I was on my way to Midway, but traffic on 94 South is a nightmare. Why? What's going on?”

“While I was on the train I got passed a note that said to take the train south to 87
th
instead.”

He bit off a stream of curses before he re-focused. “Who passed you the note?”

“A kid coloring a picture. The note was on the other side.” She drew in a breath. “It doesn't matter. At the next stop I'm going to transfer and take the red line. I should have figured he was going to jerk me around for a while.”

“I'll get there as soon as I can.”

Adrenaline together with anticipation combined to make her a little shaky as she boarded the train south. Crowded cars brimming with people made it impossible for her to do much besides hang onto the pole and hope for the best.

In the past, like in most big cities, segregation caused definite boundary lines in Chicago. Nobody took this southbound train at night, unless they were headed to a White Sox baseball game. Nobody crossed the Dan Ryan Expressway either east or west if you were from the opposite side, as bad things would happen. In the past, the inhabitants in that area were working class people with very strict beliefs about racial lines. Her grandfather had warned her to be careful. Even as a teenager she never ventured this far south. Through the years things had changed, old houses were torn down, new ones shot up, and the racial lines got blurrier and blurrier. But still fear gnawed at her back as the train shuttled through.

As a cop she'd probably been to every part of the city from the north end to the south without thinking twice about it. But on a day fraught with memories, it was hard to shake old baggage. Now, after twenty-five years, she felt compelled to find out more about her father and what happened to him. Locating Lou might be the first step.

Even though the train ride jostled along the uneven tracks through all the stops, it didn't take long to get to 87
th
Street. Somebody accidentally bumped into her arm on the way out and the pain shot clear through to her eyeballs. She held back the scream, lumbered onto the El platform and glanced around. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to her.

She pulled the note from her jacket pocket and re-read it to verify she had come to the right place. After confirming what she already knew, she looked around. The crowd had dispersed except for a few stragglers, a guy sitting on the platform playing a guitar hoping for change and some people waiting for the next train.

Pushing through the doors, she exited onto the noisy street. She scanned the cars, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Cab drivers lounged outside their cars waiting for riders. Others were going about their typical Saturday morning routine.

After walking the length of the block, she crossed over to the other side hoping for some kind of sign to let her know this hadn't been a wasted effort. She scrutinized every person driving or walking by but no one seemed to be paying any attention to her.

Just as she was about to turn around and head back on the next train north, a car careened up on the sidewalk and blocked her path. Adrenaline pumped as she yanked out her gun. To her shock, no one on the sidewalk or in cars seemed to notice except for the inconvenience of having to walk around the vehicle.

“Put the gun away, Detective Sanchez, and get in.” He spoke the words in Spanish.

She didn't have to look inside to know it was Sergio behind the wheel. Did she trust him? Hell, no. She glanced around hoping to spot Landry's SUV. No such luck. There was no other option but to take the risk.

“We've got to get out of here.” If the shakiness of his tone was any indication, he seemed much more scared than nervous.

“Why? Are you taking me to Lou?” She checked around for anything suspicious, but nothing stood out.

He shook his head. “Not yet. These people want to mess me up.” He had a facial tick. It could be due to the circumstances and nerves. She hoped it wasn't due to drugs.

“What people? You're going to have to narrow it down for me.”

“The Feds.” He gave a furtive look behind and stepped on the gas before squealing onto the expressway doing seventy.

Holy crap. She buckled in and held onto the edge of the door for leverage. Cops were known for their driving skills, but this guy was switching lanes like he was driving the Indy 500.

“Why are they after you?”

“I know what's going on.” While he hunched over the wheel, every few seconds he'd spare a look in the rearview mirror; it might have made him feel better, but it made her nervous as hell. Going this fast and not keeping a vigilant eye on the road bordered on suicidal.

“Why don't you enlighten me? Maybe I can straighten it all out.” She hoped if she kept her voice calm and even, he'd settle down.

Instead, he made the turn from the Ryan to the Stevenson Expressway going at least eighty. The tires bounced along the shoulder spewing up loose gravel.

“I need money.”

Good thing she came prepared. “Information first.”

“This is big.” He stared into the rearview mirror and pressed down the accelerator. “Don't you get it? They're going to kill me.” Between his lack of driving skills and the rate of speed, he was bound to run smack-dab into something.

She figured the sooner this thing finished, the less likely she was to end up spread out on the pavement. Curious, she turned to see what might be scaring him. A few cars straggled behind, but most were giving them a wide berth. Frankly she didn't blame them. She would have, too.

“There's nobody back there.” She tried to be the voice of reason hoping he'd settle down and not kill them both.

“They're around here somewhere. They always are.”

She was beginning to believe Sergio was a paranoid schizophrenic, imagining things that weren't there. That would be her luck—killed following a lead that went nowhere.

Suddenly, he took the exit for Chinatown but didn't stop at the light, instead screeching around the corner on two wheels. Now she knew how people felt when they said there was never a cop around. She hadn't seen a cop car since she'd been on this joy ride.

She drew in a breath and tried to calm herself despite the circumstances. Outside the erratic driving, she wasn't concerned for her safety. And he might eventually settle down enough to tell her about Lou. On a scale from one to ten, she figured she was only at a five or so. Not bad.

Just when she started to relax and contemplated how to get him to slow down, she heard the squealing tires and glanced to her left. A car going way too fast to stop bore down on them. Seconds ticked by. All she could do was brace herself.

She emitted some kind of girlish scream and closed her eyes as the car T-boned them. Her seatbelt held tight while they spun around two or three times, finally landing half on, half off the sidewalk. Sergio hadn't been so lucky; his head ricocheted off the driver's side window. Not wearing his seatbelt, he'd been tousled about, hitting the steering wheel a couple of times before the air bag went off. As far as she could tell, he was out cold.

Isabella threw open the door and ran. She skirted under the beams of the El and up Archer Avenue, then turned onto Cermak. While she felt shaky and disoriented, she couldn't wait around to find out if Sergio's paranoia had been real or not. Instead she hoped all those miles she'd put in jogging along Lake Shore Drive had paid off and her bum arm didn't interfere with her being able to keep her distance.

The merchants along the street had started to open their doors, and aromas from the nearby restaurants filtered through the air. The distinctive smells of Chinese cuisine commingled with the quick crisp chatter of people on the street. She ran along the sidewalk, finally feeling brave enough to manage a glance behind.

The two men had gotten out of their car and began to look around. One went to Sergio's car, and dialed on his cell phone. The other seemed to be looking for somebody—more than likely her. He raised at set of binoculars to his eyes, and then pointed right at her.

She didn't have to think twice; she ran. Unwilling to sneak another look and waste valuable time, she wove her way along the sidewalks and hoped for a good spot to hide. In the windows she spotted everything from trinkets to fish for sale, but nothing that resembled a good place to hunker down until they gave up and went away.

In the background a siren whirled, probably responding to the accident scene. She trudged on, turning the corner onto Wentworth. At this time on a Saturday, only a sparse number of locals were around.

Up ahead two large crowds of students and a couple of families flanked the sidewalk. As she maneuvered around them, she used the diversion to sneak inside one of the shop doors. The smell of fish assaulted her nostrils as soon as she charged inside. She ducked beneath the counter in back, where an old Chinese man was cutting the heads off fish.

He barely glanced at her as she ducked beneath the counter. When the front door opened a few moments later, she put her index finger to her lips, showed him her badge and tried to convey a sense of urgency with her eyes.

“Have you seen a young woman? Dark hair, bi-racial?” She didn't recognize the voice, but that didn't mean anything.

The man responded with a string of Chinese and went about beheading his fish with a cleaver the size of her head. The men must have left, as the doorbell chimed when it closed. She held her breath and peered around the corner. She didn't see them, but she was pretty sure they wouldn't have given up that easily.

She mouthed ‘thank you' to the fish man and pulled out her phone, dialing Landry's number. He picked up after a few rings.

“Landry, I need you to send a black and white to the twenty-three hundred block of Wentworth. Have them lay on the siren and not let up no matter what.”

“Where are you?”

“I'm hiding under a counter of a fish shop on Wentworth. Somebody's looking for me and I want to scare them off.” Her heart beat like a drum in her chest. “Take care of it for me.”

“Done.” He hung up.

She waited a moment, since she knew he'd call back. The man continued to ignore her and gut his fish, which, except for the smell, worked out fine. She had more than enough to worry about. Besides the men chasing her, she had to wonder why she so easily enlisted Landry's help without even thinking about it.

Her phone rang seconds later, interrupting her internal monologue. “Landry?”

“Got somebody on the way. Sit tight and I'll pick you up. What's the address?”

She crawled around on the floor until she spotted a card by the register and rattled off the address. “Thanks, Landry.” But he'd already hung up.

* * *

Landry immediately phoned Malone while fear held tight to his gut. “I thought your guys were following her. What's going on?”

“That's what we'd like to know. She got into the car of a known drug dealer and then led my officers on a crazy ride down the Dan Ryan Expressway.”

He shuddered. She took so many chances, her life expectancy had to be a couple of days rather than decades. “Right now she's in hiding because some guys in suits are chasing her. Could they be yours?”

“Listen, Taylor, I'll be honest with you. I think she's clean, but you've got to admit hooking up with a bad guy and evading capture looks pretty bad.”

“Not if she thinks whoever's chasing her are the bad guys. Since she doesn't know she's being monitored, shouldn't she assume the worst?” Landry had to admit he had some questions of his own about the way the Feds went about doing their business.

“Point taken. Are you headed over there now?”

“Yes, and give us some space. I'll take it from here on out.” Landry didn't know how he'd do it, but somehow he had to convince Isabella to let him stick around before she got herself killed.

* * *

Isabella spotted the reflection of lights reverberating along the walls inside while the siren wailed loudly. But after a few minutes, the siren cut off unexpectedly.

Before she had a chance to panic, Landry barreled through the door. “Isabella?” He came around the counter and helped her up from the floor. “There's a couple of guys in suits about a block down. I'll swing around the alley and pick you up back there.” Without another word, he went back through the front door.

She glanced toward the fish man. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” the man responded in perfect English.

She couldn't help but smile as she moved toward the back of the store. After a minute or two, she opened the back door an inch or two.

With the dumpster next to the door she couldn't get a full glimpse of who or what was coming. She had to trust Landry.

After a quick touch on the handkerchief for good luck, she dove for the alley just as Landry's car squealed to a stop. She rushed inside and buckled her seat beat. A few seconds later, she settled back in the seat.

“Don't relax yet. I saw a couple in a car down the block that looked pretty suspicious.” He tapped on the steering wheel. “What happened?”

“Before Sergio got a chance to tell me anything, they T-boned the car.”

“Did they kill him?”

“I don't think so, but he was knocked out.” She slid down in the seat as far as she could as the car bounded out of the alley. “Which reminds me, call in and find out where they brought him.”

Landry called into the station while she fought with the emotion and adrenaline swirling around inside. When he hung up and looked at her, he had a weird look on his face.