It had been quite a day.
Between the interview with the naked housewives on Wake Up and the moment at ten-thirty p.m. when I settled back on the soft chair at my hotel with an ice pack, a couple of aspirin, and a glass of water, I’d been kidnapped and rescued, almost shot in a South Side bar, hit with a gun (“gun-whipped” was the term Dal used), and nearly kidnapped again.
And all I could think about was the dumb thing I’d said to Adoree.
Pressing the ice against my throbbing skull, I washed down the pills and was wondering if I should call her when Dal said, “Want to take a look at this stuff?”
He was sitting at a flyleaf table that he’d opened up to spread the contents of the two wallets he’d taken from the hard-luck kidnappers. There wasn’t much. Several hundred dollars in cash. No credit cards. No photos. No receipts. The only personal items were the driver’s licenses. According to one, Ace was Ashton Paul Killinek, a twenty-seven-year-old, six-foot-two, 172-pound blond male with blue eyes who lived at an address Dal said was near O’Hare Airport.
C-man was Claus Dieter Heinz, a thirty-five-year-old, five-foot-nine, 159-pound male with brown hair and brown eyes who lived in Evanston.
Dal had found another card, which he tossed onto the table. It identified Heinz as a private investigator licensed by the state.
“Heinz is a private eye?”
Dal responded with a derisive snort. “Like that’s a step up from kidnapper? It just means it should be easier to get our hands on him again.”
“What else do we have?”
“That’s it. I wonder how long before the cops release ’em.”
“They may not even be arrested,” I said. “They might seem more like victims, the condition they were in.”
“That’s why I left their guns. Since we have their wallets, I know they’re not carrying FOID cards.”
“FOID cards being …?”
“Firearm Owner’s ID cards,” Dal said. “Very big in this state.”
“I’m going to bed,” I told him. “You should, too. I have to be at Millennium Park by five-thirty a.m.”
“You’re shitting me! Five-thirty?”
“I’ll be up at four-thirty,” I said. “Want me to wake you then? Or would you rather loll around until four-forty-five?”