I couldn’t wait until our roll call and updates were over. I had a half hour of catch-up work to do at my desk, then Frank and I would head to the shelter. We’d check the parking lot, make sure Tammy’s car was there, and hope she had somewhere to go. I had no proof of wrongdoing on her part. Still, the fact was that she’d been married to a two-bit sketchy jerk who lied, abused her—as well as drugs and alcohol—and likely conducted unlawful activities. It all made me wonder if his bad habits had rubbed off on her too. Tammy was a victim, and I didn’t doubt that. Police had documented plenty of domestic violence calls to the house, but I still needed to know she was on the up-and-up and truly had no idea who killed Dwayne and possibly the other two men.
We left the precinct at nine fifteen and stopped at her house first. Even though it was too early for the day’s mail, the delivery from yesterday could still be in the box. A quick peek gave us nothing useful. Three bills were inside—water, electricity, and cable—and I imagined they were all overdue.
Leaving the mail as we’d found it, Frank and I climbed into the cruiser and made our way to A New Life women’s shelter.
Minutes later, we passed the parking lot, and Tammy’s car was still there. It was just before ten, and if Marie Booth enforced the rules, Tammy couldn’t leave the premises until then. We were about to find out if we’d waste our day while parked along the curb, if Tammy was honest and intended to visit her pup and run a few errands, or if she was up to no good. If that was the case, she would be visiting our interrogation room again, and she’d better have a good explanation for her actions.
With our eyes peeled on the side door that led to the lot, Frank and I jawed back and forth, drank heartburn-inducing gas station coffee, and waited.
At 10:17, someone exited from the front of the building and took the sidewalk to the parking lot. I smacked Frank’s arm. “Hey, check it out. Is that Tammy?”
“Not sure.”
With her head down and sunglasses on, the woman had to walk to her vehicle before we knew for sure it was her. Tammy’s car sat in the third row beyond the door and to the left.
I pointed at the tan Impala. “That’s her, and she’s heading that way.” I lowered my window and listened. Seconds later, the key fob chirped, and the lights flashed on Tammy’s vehicle. She climbed inside, started the car, and pulled out of the driveway. “Give her a few seconds to get ahead of us. Damn it, we should have used your truck.”
Frank frowned. “Your truck is more to my liking, partner.”
“Yeah, I know, but we better stay at least three car lengths behind her so she doesn’t notice the cruiser.”
“Copy that.”
We followed Tammy for a few miles until it looked like she was headed to familiar territory.
“Isn’t this the way to the animal shelter?”
I gave Frank a nod. “Yep, so apparently she really does care about the pooch.”
Once she arrived, parked in the small lot, and walked in, Frank pulled to the curb, where we waited—somewhat hidden—under a shade tree.
I made a short update call to Lutz to say that nothing suspicious was in Tammy’s mail and that she had just entered the animal shelter. I promised to keep him posted then hung up.
At ten minutes after eleven, Tammy walked out and drove away.
Frank turned the key in the ignition. “Here we go. Wonder where she’s headed now.”
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
I glanced out the window and noticed that we’d just passed the exit for our precinct as we followed Tammy south on Halstead.
“She’s going to be entering a pretty iffy neighborhood before long,” Frank said.
“I know. Where the hell are you going, Tammy, and why?” I couldn’t figure out her logic for driving toward Englewood, a high-crime area. “There’s no good reason she’s heading south unless—”
Frank jerked his head my way. “Unless what?”
“Unless she conveniently forgot to tell us about a few of the players Dwayne associated with. Maybe she’s meeting up with one of them for some reason.”
“I thought she was afraid they’d come after her for Dwayne’s debts.”
I let out a groan. “So she said. I don’t understand Tammy one bit, and I’m beginning to think she’s keeping information from us. If she was fearful for her safety, she sure as shit wouldn’t be driving right into the pits of hell.”
Tammy made a right-hand turn onto West Marquette and drove several blocks. One more right landed her on South Lowe, where she pulled to the curb and parked.
“What the hell is she doing now? This is one of the highest-crime areas on the near south side. Should we approach?”
I held up my hand as Frank stopped the cruiser a half block behind her. “Hold tight. We need to find out what she’s up to since no normal law-abiding woman has a reason to be in this neighborhood. Are there binos in this cruiser?”
Frank swatted at the seatback pocket behind him. “I think there’s a pair in there.”
I stretched my arm over the seat, reached into the pocket, and pulled them out. “We’ve got to see what she’s doing.” I pressed the lenses against my eyes, adjusted the focus, and saw her looking to the left. Scanning the homes across the street, the only thing I saw were broken-down houses in dire need of paint and new windows. The yards were littered with trash, and cars sat on blocks in the gravel driveways. I shook my head. Crime was how the residents of those neighborhoods made their living.
Tammy watched the side of the street that held a junkyard, two houses, an empty lot, three more houses, and an abandoned building. Minutes later, a man exited the house closest to the vacant building. I aimed the field glasses at him as he walked down the street.
“Hey, check it out.”
I lowered the binoculars and looked at Frank as he pointed at Tammy’s car. Her brake lights flashed, then I turned the binos on her. It looked like she was about to leave, but instead, she inched ahead slowly.
“Now what is she doing?” I asked.
“Looks like she’s following that guy. Can you get a good look at him?”
“Nah, not from the back, but I saw what house he came out of. We can search that address and see who lives there. What I can tell is that he’s tall and lanky, and it looks like dirty blond hair is hanging out beneath his ball cap.” I waved Frank on. “Go ahead a bit. We need to keep both of them in our sights.”
Frank shifted into Drive and rolled forward. As we passed the house the man had exited, I snapped a few pictures that included the address. Two blocks ahead, Tammy tapped the brakes and slowed down.
I raised my hand. “Hold up, partner.”
Frank pulled to the curb, and I lifted the binos to my eyes to see that Tammy had stopped again. I shifted my focus to the left, and in my visual field, I located the man on the street corner a half block ahead of Tammy. He leaned against the corner wall of a check-cashing store, and one by one, people came, stayed less than a minute, then walked away.
I huffed. “That shitbag is dealing.”
“Yep, that’s exactly what he’s doing.”
We continued to watch for another five minutes until Tammy made a right-hand turn at the intersection and continued on. Frank pressed the gas pedal and stayed within a few car lengths of her. We followed Tammy to her house, where she took the mail inside and came out a few minutes later with hangers full of clothes draped over her arm. From there, she went to a drive-through restaurant then back to the shelter, where we watched her park and go inside with her lunch and clothing.
“Well, that was an interesting morning,” Frank said.
“Yep, and I hope she stays put for the rest of the day. Let’s head to the precinct and find out who that man was and why she was stalking him.”
Once back, we grabbed sandwiches and chips from the vending machines and headed to our desks. As I ate, I made a call to ComEd, the largest electric company in Illinois, and asked to speak with Sandra Lewis, the billing superintendent. Law enforcement had a good relationship with the head of that department, which led to quick information when we needed to know who was billed at a certain address. After a few playful back-and-forth jabs, I read the street and house number to Sandra, and she told me that a Trevor Botty sent in the electric payment every month. With that information, I needed to find out exactly who he was and if he was indeed the man I’d seen walk out of that house. I thanked her for the help and hung up.
“Pull up a Trevor Botty in the DMV database and see if the address matches. I want a look at his description too.”
“On it,” Frank said.
As I waited for Frank, I typed the name into the criminal database and hoped for a hit.
Frank brought up the information. “I’m pretty sure he’s the guy who came out of the house. Tall, lanky, and likely the right age.”
I stopped what I was doing and walked to Frank’s side. “Let’s have a look.” I leaned in and read Trevor’s description from his license. “Six foot and one hundred ninety pounds. That sounds about right.” I looked at his hair color, which showed blond, and his eye color was recorded as brown. “Blond hair. I guess dirty blond or dark blond, it’s all the same. No matter what, I believe he’s the man we saw. Go ahead and check with the county clerk on who pays the property tax. I want to know if he owns the shithole he lives in or if he’s a renter.” I tipped my head at my computer. “I’ll do a criminal background check on him right now.” I returned to my chair, plopped down, scooted in, and typed his name. A match came up in our criminal database. “Bingo, we’ve got him on something.”
Frank snickered. “Jeez, I wonder if it has anything to do with dealing drugs.”
I rolled my eyes. “Ya think?” I looked over Trevor’s arrest sheet, and he’d served several stints in county lockup for possession and distribution but never enough to send him to prison.