Hal Morton had been picked up at O’Hare and was being interviewed by our night shift detectives. A hard copy of the interrogation would be sitting on my desk first thing in the morning, and I would watch the recorded interview too. Finally leaving work at seven o’clock, I headed home and looked forward to some down time in front of the TV.
By eight fifteen, my take-out pizza was eaten, the dishes were stacked in the dishwasher, and Bandit and I had retreated to the living room. He lay snuggled at my feet on the left side of the couch, and my bottle of beer was within easy reach on the end table to my right. Relaxed, we settled in to watch a nighttime reality show.
I would take advantage of the next commercial to grab another beer out of the fridge. Bandit, who was sound asleep seconds ago, popped up his head and was concentrating on the front door. I followed his eyes, but without the keen senses dogs had, I didn’t find anything off.
“What has your attention, buddy? I suppose you hear another dog barking five blocks away, right?”
I glanced at the clock before returning my focus to the TV—8:38 p.m. Seconds later, when the commercial came on, I headed into the kitchen with my empty beer bottle. After tossing it into the recycling bin, I grabbed a cold one from the fridge and returned to the living room. Bandit’s spot on the couch was empty. I looked to my left, and he was crouched near the door as if ready to pounce. A low growl came from deep within him, and his eyes were fixated on the door. I pulled my service weapon off the end table and hugged the wall until I got to the blinds. Separating the slats, I looked out but couldn’t see the porch from my angle.
“Bandit, what’s the matter?”
I knew if I opened the door, he would bolt, and it would take all night to get him back inside. He would sprint after whatever was out there. Could someone be lurking in my yard, or was it as innocent as a rabbit or cat passing by? I didn’t know just yet, but I intended to find out.
“Come on, boy. Let’s go out back for a minute.”
Bandit needed to be in my fenced backyard while I investigated what had gotten his attention out front. I grabbed him by the collar—as he protested—and shooed him through the sliders and onto the deck. I turned off the front porch light, and with the flashlight held beneath my gun, I stepped outside and shined the light in a left-to-right sweeping fashion. I spun to the sound of shoes clacking at my back. Somebody was running down the sidewalk away from me, but in the dark, I couldn’t see the person or where they went. I yelled out but didn’t get or expect a response. I chalked it up to kids being dared to pull a prank. With a final look up and down the block, I went back to the house, flipped on the porch light, and locked the dead bolt once I was inside. As much as I’d joked about camera doorbells in the past, especially because I was a cop, I figured it might be time to check them out.
Opening the sliders, I called out to Bandit, and he charged in. “Good boy. You keep us safe, okay?” He crossed the living room and sniffed the front door.
With my laptop on the coffee table, I logged on to the internet and checked out the best-rated doorbell cameras on the market. I hit the “Buy it now” button, set the laptop down, and returned to the show that had been paused for a half hour. Then my phone rang—Frank was calling.
“What’s up, pal?” I asked.
“Nothing. Bored, I guess. Had to turn off my brain about the Morton murder. We’re at work long enough the way it is, and I don’t need to take every case home with me too.”
I laughed. “Yep, hazards of the job. Why don’t you stop over? Bandit and I are just sitting here watching TV, and I’ve got plenty of beer.”
“Yeah, sure, but I’ll bring a six-pack, anyway. See you in a half hour.”
I clicked off the call and wondered if I should share my concerns with Mills. I hadn’t seen the person I’d heard running, and there was a good chance it could have been a nighttime jogger, but the thought of John Vance roaming free had my mind working overtime. My imagination was getting the best of me, and Bandit had sensed something was wrong. He paced and whined. I needed to stop whatever I was doing and act normally, otherwise Frank would notice, too, as soon as he walked through the door.
I busied myself in the kitchen while making guacamole to go with the store-bought salsa and chips. Seeing my own reflection in the window above the sink startled me.
What the hell is my problem?
I wasn’t sure why my nerves were on edge, but I grabbed the wand and twisted the blinds closed.
The doorbell rang as soon as I had filled the bowls with corn chips, guacamole, and salsa. I placed the snacks on a tray and set it on the coffee table then went to answer the door. When I pulled it open, a potted plant was centered on the porch. I craned my neck both ways down the sidewalk and saw nobody.
Son of a bitch.
Headlights turned into the driveway just as I stepped farther out. Frank had arrived. He climbed out of his truck, walked toward me, and pointed at the plant.
“Secret admirer?”
“Not sure.” I looked left and right one more time. “Come on in.”
Mills picked up the plant and carried it into the house. “Not even a card? That’s weird.”
I locked the door behind Frank and took his six-pack into the kitchen. He set the plant on the foyer floor then plopped down on the couch, where Bandit promptly snuggled up next to him.
“Get a doorbell camera.”
“What?” I looked around the corner as I twisted off the bottle caps.
“I said to get a doorbell camera. Nobody will ever take you by surprise, and if your admirer”—he made air quotes—“comes back, you’ll see who it is.”
I handed a bottle to Frank and took a seat. “So, you don’t think that’s stupid since we’re cops with big guns?”
“Hell no. It just eliminates the guesswork, that’s all.” He guzzled a third of the bottle without taking a breath then glanced at me. “You look worried. What’s up?”
I waved away his comment. “Nah, it’s nothing. Bandit was growling at the door earlier.”
“That’s probably when the plant showed up.”
“No, it was before that. I went outside and heard somebody running down the sidewalk but didn’t see anything. I think it set my nerves in motion.”
Frank chuckled. “Big, tough Jesse McCord is nervous? That isn’t like you, dude. John Vance must be occupying your mind.”
“I guess. Lutz gave me that talk this morning, and now I’m thinking about it even more.”
“And that’s why you have a houseful of guns, so use them if you need to.”
I nodded toward the snacks. “Dig in.”