The Third Rail (12 page)

She'd been in the wrong place on the Drive at the wrong
time. Unlucky in some ways, incredibly fortunate in others. Either way, it wasn't my fault, even if I felt like it was.

"Someone taking you down for X-rays?" I said.

She nodded. "Rodriguez said he'd drive me over."

"You okay?"

A smile limped across her face and back into her pocket. "Just tired, Michael."

I took her hand. "I'll call you later."

"Maybe make it tomorrow."

"You sure?"

"You're going to have your hands full here and I just need some sleep."

I kissed her, then watched her walk away. Rodriguez was waiting by his car. He caught my eye and held it. Then he touched Rachel's shoulder. She got in the passenger's side and leaned back against the headrest. Rodriguez climbed in the other side, and they drove off.

I unplugged myself from the IV and stood up. A couple of police choppers still hovered over the lagoon, an effort to keep the flying media away. A police boat had tied up to the kayak. They were offloading the body in a bag. I began to walk toward the shoreline.

"Mr. Kelly, I can't just let you go." The EMT was following me. "You could go into shock and there's a risk of infection."

"Is he giving you a hard time?"

Katherine Lawson trudged up the slope from the lake. Three more agents trailed behind her. Lawson pulled off a set of latex gloves and threw them into a bag that had the word
HAZARD
stenciled on it.

"What did you find?" I said.

Lawson held up a finger and huddled with the EMT for a
moment. Lawson came back alone. "Thank me, Kelly. I just got you a hall pass."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She held out a bottle of pills. "Take four immediately and two a day after that until they're gone. Prevents infection."

"Four right now?"

"That's what she said. How's the side?"

"Your protective vests suck."

Lawson looked over at the garment, folded and lying inside the ambulance.

"That's Chicago PD issue."

"And if I'd been wearing yours?"

"I'd probably be helping Rachel Swenson pick out a black dress. By the way, how is she?"

"She just left. Got banged up a little by the air bag, but otherwise, fine."

"I like her."

"So do I," I said. "Let me ask you a question. Any reason to think she was the target here?"

"You mean was he targeting Rachel to get at you?"

"Something like that."

Lawson shook her head. "Unlikely. If he was, why waste bullets on anyone else? And she was the only one he missed. By the way, here's your gun."

The agent pulled my nine-millimeter from a bag by her feet.

"Thanks." I tucked it into my belt. "So you're thinking Rachel was another coincidence?"

Lawson nodded. Usually I hated to agree with the feds. This time, not so much. We walked a little more until we
reached a line of police tape. A not-so-small crowd had gathered beyond.

"I'm guessing you'd like to get out of here?" Lawson said.

"You here to make that happen?"

"Let's go somewhere and talk."

W
e drove five blocks to a bar called Four Farthings. Twenty years ago, it was a big singles joint in Lincoln Park. Then the crowd got old, which was okay except they forgot to leave. Now the place was mostly filled up with dusty conversations about the good old days from a dried-up clientele who tended to fall asleep after three drinks.

At five in the afternoon there were six people at the bar, all crowded around a flat screen, watching the news and talking about Chicago's shoot-out on the Drive. We found a table in a corner. Lawson told me I shouldn't drink with the meds they gave me. I thanked her for the advice and got a Fat Tire on draft. Lawson shook her head and ordered an Absolut with a twist. I took a deep draw on my pint and sat for a moment in the happy state of being alive. Lawson took a small sip and watched me.

"What did you find in the kayak?" I said.

"Short-barrel thirty-eight revolver. Recently fired."

"How about the rifle?"

"Nothing yet, but we'll find it. He had a key to the boathouse along the lagoon. We figure he shot you, then let himself in and grabbed the boat."

"And what? He was going to just paddle away."

Lawson shrugged. "Maybe. Tell you the truth, we weren't exactly looking for a guy in a kayak."

"Any ID?"

"We're running the prints now."

"And you think that's it?"

"Isn't it?"

"Who shot him, Lawson?"

She slipped her elbows onto the table and crowded forward in her seat. "I thought you might have an idea on that."

"You think it was me? Jesus Christ." My cell phone buzzed and I flipped it open. "Yeah?"

"Nice job, Kelly. Very nice job."

I held up a finger to Lawson and walked out the back door onto Cleveland Street. A drunk was sleeping in the cold. I watched him scratch himself as the mayor congratulated me for having the balls to play judge, jury, and executioner.

"You took care of things. Nice and simple. Took care of our city."

"Mr. Mayor--"

"It's something I don't forget, Kelly. Make no mistake about that."

"Mr. Mayor, I never fired my weapon."

"I understand, son."

"I drew down on him with my handgun, but I didn't fire."

"Say no more. We're on an open line here. Not a problem. Whatever happens, don't worry about it. No one's throwing a rope around your neck. You understand me? Where are you?"

"In a bar."

"By yourself? You want me to send someone down there to drink with you?"

"No, I'm with Agent Lawson."

"The FBI broad?"

I could sense the mayor's sex drive pop up from whatever dark place it slept, head moving, tongue flicking. Not a pleasant image in an already unpleasant conversation. But there it was.

"Yes, Mr. Mayor."

"Jesus, I'd like to throw a shot in her. You gonna throw a shot in her?"

I didn't respond. The mayor, of course, took that as acquiescence.

"You fucking Mick bastard. That's great. You deserve it. You really do. I can't say this publicly because of the tragedy on the Drive today, but you know what? It could have been worse. Much fucking worse. And I say that with all due respect and a heavy heart. You're a hero, Kelly. Nothing less. I gotta run. We're doing a press conference tonight. Listen, have a couple drinks on the city. Celebrate that piece of shit being dead. And, Kelly?"

"Yes, Mr. Mayor?"

"Stick it up her ass for me, will ya?" The mayor's voice cracked at the seams with sudden laughter, before bursting over into some sort of demented fucking chuckle. I cut the connection and headed back into the bar.

"The mayor sends his best."

"Does he?" Lawson said.

"Yeah, he's a real prince of a guy."

"He's disgusting."

"Well, there's that, too."

"He gave you the old pep talk, right? Make sure you nail the FBI broad, all that crap."

"We really need to talk about this?"

"You're right. No sexist pig is going to ruin our celebration."
Lawson raised her glass. "Here's to Kelly. Taking care of the bad guys."

I shook my head. "My gun hasn't been fired, Lawson. You know that. So, what exactly did I shoot him with?"

She shrugged. "Don't know. But if you didn't shoot him, who did?"

"Exactly my point. If it wasn't one of your agents, it had to be a third party."

"And you're thinking of the accomplice?"

"Yes, I am."

"The accomplice no one believes exists."

"Is that what they're saying now?"

Lawson leaned forward and tapped the back of my hand. "That's what they've always been saying. Listen, putting this guy down is no big deal. He killed four people and critically injured another. And that was just on the Drive today. Between you and me, it's a blessing."

"I didn't shoot him, Lawson."

She leaned back and sighed. "Don't fuck up my case. It's all nice and neat. Wrapped up and put to bed."

"Not if there's an accomplice out there."

"There isn't."

"Then how did this guy get his head blown off?"

"You want to hear a theory?" she said.

"Love to."

"You shot him, then dumped the weapon in the lake. Why, I'm not sure. Well, no, I am sure. He wasn't an immediate threat to you and he was clearly going to be apprehended, so there was no way you could justify pulling the trigger legally."

"So I used a second weapon and then got rid of it."

"Gives you deniability when we have this conversation. Even a little insurance."

"And kills someone you and the mayor both wanted dead."

"Myself, the mayor. Everyone from here to Washington. For Chrissakes, Kelly, we talked about this."

"You talked about it, but it didn't happen that way. The trajectory of the bullet and angle of the wound will confirm it."

"Assuming any of those tests are done." Lawson nibbled at a pretzel and waited for me to see the light. Reality is relative, meaning it happened whatever way the Bureau says it happened.

"We'll be at the mayor's press conference tonight," she said, "then issue a statement tomorrow, confirming the dead guy was our shooter. He was killed by an unidentified law enforcement agent as he resisted arrest."

"You don't believe that," I said.

"I believe someone wants this to end, and that's fine with me. An accomplice turns up down the line, I've moved on and it's some other guy's problem."

"Look out for number one. Right, Lawson?"

"You were a cop in this town. You know how it works."

I lifted the pint to my lips and drained it. The cold beer felt good at the back of my throat and I rattled the empty glass on the table between us.

"You want another one?" I said.

She shook her head. "No. I had two last night."

"And?"

"Three drinks a week. That's the limit." She tugged a crumpled pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lit one up.

"Bartender's not gonna like that," I said.

Lawson slipped her shield onto the table. "I'm not a drunk, Kelly."

"I didn't say you were."

She blew smoke in a cool, blue stream over my head. "I don't even have a problem with it."

"Okay."

"Fuck you."

The bartender got a nudge from a patron. I could see him starting over to us. Then he caught a glimpse of the badge and retreated back behind the taps.

"Why don't you just tell me your story?" I said.

"What story?"

I spread my hands out, palms up.

Lawson let a smile slip. "Cops all have stories. Right?"

"I know I do," I said. "Hold on while I get a beer."

I went up to the front. The six people in the place now had an idea who we were and why we were in the area. I could feel their eyes on me as I waited for my pint. Finally, an old-timer at the elbow of the bar spoke up.

"You involved in that stuff down by the lake?"

His voice was full of smoke and whiskey. A doctor might call it a walking advertisement for emphysema. I found it comfortable.

"I was," I said.

The old-timer coughed up some phlegm and rapped his knuckles on wood. Then he sank into his drink. I had the bartender back him with a second and carried my pint to the table.

"The locals love us," I said.

Lawson glanced toward the taps. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." I took a sip on my fresh pint. "Now you gonna tell me your story?"

"It's nothing too spectacular." Lawson stared at whatever was left in the bottom of her glass as she spoke. "Been an
agent for almost fifteen years. Divorced the last five. It was mostly my fault. I let the job eat me up, and Kevin got sick of being in a relationship by himself. Packed up one day and left. Took our little girl with him."

"He has custody?"

"The relationship was my fault, but the divorce was all him. At the time of the separation, Kevin knew I was heavy into one investigation and had two others in trial. I was putting in twelve-hour days and spending my nights working out the details for what we were going to do tomorrow."

"And you were drinking?"

Her eyes crept up to mine. "You know how it is. Strategy sessions over dinner, head to the bar afterward. You're working the whole time, but, yeah, there were a lot of late nights. Thing is, Kevin hired a PI to tail me."

I whistled. Lawson nodded.

"No kidding. He got me on tape at some places on Rush. Pulled the bar tabs. Stuff like that. His attorney sent me the whole package one night. Told me it was all going into a custody motion. They'd paint me as a drunk, whether I was or not."

"And you caved?"

"No choice. That kind of thing gets into a public hearing and the Bureau's done with you. Especially a woman. So I gave him what he wanted."

"How about your girl?"

"Her name's Melanie." Lawson's face puckered around the edges. She wanted that second drink now, but there was nothing for it. "I saw her once a month for the first couple of years. Then Kevin got remarried. They had their own child. Now I don't see her so much anymore. Sad thing is, I mind it less and less."

"I'm not sure I believe that."

Lawson tapped her fingers lightly on the table. "Thanks."

I took another sip of beer. "You ever wonder if it's worth it?"

"You ever wonder that when you carried a shield?"

I shook my head.

"Of course you didn't. Nobody ever does. The job is the job and always will be. Thing is to make sure you got your bases covered." Lawson shrugged. "I left myself vulnerable. I paid the price."

"And you don't plan on making that mistake again?"

Her eyes flashed for a moment, then went gray. She shook her head and rolled her empty glass between her palms.

"Do me a favor," I said.

"What?"

"Keep the door open. Just for a day or two."

Lawson looked up. "Why?"

"You said you thought there might be some other reason a killer would draw me into this case. Some other connection."

"I'm listening."

So I told her about the CTA crash at Lake and Wabash. Same spot on the L tracks, thirty years earlier to the day.