“Buckle up, Boss. I’m not letting off the gas until we’re there.”
With two more cruisers on his rear bumper, Frank cranked the wheel and hit the lights.
Lutz locked his arms and braced himself against the dash while the car spun around the corner. He pinned the phone against his ear and spoke to Abrams. “How far from the apartment is Patrol? Okay, we’re on our way too.” He pocketed his phone and cursed. “If anything happens to Jesse, I swear I’ll—”
Frank stopped Lutz from jumping to the worst-case scenario. They had seen firsthand what those two women were capable of. “Nothing is going to happen to him, Boss. Jesse is as tough as they come, and look at everything he’s been through in the past. He’ll come out of this okay. He has to.”
Lutz’s phone rang just as the police radio chirped to life. “What? Son of a bitch!” He abruptly hung up and yelled out a round of colorful adjectives. “Patrol said the apartment is empty, but there’s plenty of blood evidence near the heat radiator.” Lutz dialed the district’s forensic lab. “Mike, write down this address and get out there now. Patrol found where Jesse was being held, and they said the living room is full of blood. I want that apartment torn apart.”
“Now what?” Frank asked.
Lutz pointed out the windshield. “Keep going. I want to see it for myself.”