Eight o’clock had come and gone by the time I pulled into my garage. The coach lamps on either side of the overhead door, with motion sensors now attached to them, lit up as soon as I hit the twenty-foot sweet spot. I smiled with relief and a sense of security for me and my neighbors. No uninvited guests would get beyond those cameras and lights—I’d be watching from home or from my phone app. I reminded myself that next Thursday, the alarm system would be installed and connected directly to the police department. I exited my car and walked upstairs, where my buddy, Bandit—sitting on the landing—greeted me.
“How’s it going, pal? You all good?”
His rapidly wagging tail told me he was.
I read the note Dean had left on the counter, saying that Bandit was fed at five thirty and both dogs, with Dean’s supervision, had played for a bit then dozed off together for a half hour before Dean took Jackson home. Everything seemed normal, just as it used to be, and I was thankful.
I opened the patio door and let Bandit out for his last break of the night. As tired as I was, sleep would come easily. After pulling open the freezer door, I looked through my choices and decided on lasagna and a salad.
A half hour later, as I sat at the table and plowed through my dinner, I thought about tomorrow. We would have some answers, and I hoped they’d be enough to file charges— including conspiracy to commit murder—against Mark Conway. If he didn’t give up the Vasquez brothers or the Cruz character, it would be back to a lot of legwork and hours behind my desk staring at a computer screen. I was sure Mark Conway knew where John and Curt Vance were too. With a direct line of communication to Luca Vasquez, he had to be privy to that information.
Organizing my to-do list on paper helped. My brain had already hit the overload point, and I didn’t want to forget anything.
Smiling at Bandit, who was curled up on the couch and sawing logs, I headed down the hallway to my bedroom. I checked the live feed for each camera on the monitor, and all was quiet. Feeling at peace, I went to bed and left the door open so Bandit could come in if he wanted to.
The next morning arrived too soon, but a wide-eyed, restless dog was breathing in my face, telling me it was time for breakfast and a trip to the backyard.
“Yeah, yeah, I get the hint.” Even though Friday was a day I normally looked forward to because the weekend was right behind it, I knew that until the Morton case was solved—hopefully leading us to John Vance—we wouldn’t have many weekends ahead of us.
I mindlessly ate a bagel, drank a cup of coffee, then gave Bandit a good scratch behind the ears before leaving.
Twenty-five minutes later and in the bull pen, I pulled my to-do list from my jacket pocket and smoothed it flat on my desk. I glanced at the time—we had fifteen minutes before roll call and updates began. I reviewed what I had written last night.
We needed to find out about the search on Luca Vasquez’s house, get a warrant for Mark Conway’s apartment, hear if Conway gave Henry any information last night, and see if Lutz agreed to get warrants for bank records of the guard at MCC, as well as for Norman Flek, Lonny Mares, the two guards at Rock Island, and now Luca Vasquez. If all of them had substantial deposits, we’d be one step closer to tying everyone who died to John Vance.
“Ready?”
With a Styrofoam coffee cup in hand, Mills was standing alongside my desk.
“Yep.” I folded the sheet of paper, slipped it in my pocket, and joined him.
When roll call was complete, Lutz began the updates. “Brownsville PD got back to me late last night. They didn’t find anything in Luca Vasquez’s home that indicates John and Curt Vance were staying there or had ever been there at all.”
I coughed into my fist then cleared my throat. “Who else would have killed him? There seems to be a pattern with Vance’s hired goons. They like to use knives. They’re nice and quiet. That is, unless you’re in the middle of no-man’s-land just south of Poplar Bluff, Missouri. I guess out there with no neighbors in the immediate vicinity, a bullet to the back of the head is perfectly acceptable.”
“Point taken, Jesse, but don’t forget Luca Vasquez was a criminal too. He may have had other enemies.” Lutz turned to Henry. “Has Conway made a decision yet?”
I gave Henry a side-eyed glance. “Decision about what?”
“Whether he’s going to give us a name or two. He wanted to speak privately with Bell, weigh his options, and get back to us today.”
Grousing my displeasure, I grumbled to our group. “We’re giving him way too much rope.”
Frank chimed in. “Maybe so, and if we’re lucky, he’ll hang himself with it.”
Henry continued. “To answer your question, Boss, I was going to have a chat with Conway as soon as we’re finished here.”
“Let Jesse and Mills do it. They like to push the intimidation envelope.”
“Okay, not a problem.”
I waved to get Bob’s attention, and he tipped his chin at me. “Go ahead.”
“What about pulling bank records for all the dead men? That’s a good way to see if John’s men paid off each one for their participation in his escape.”
“Not a bad idea, but it’s a moot point. When John is captured, he’ll go back to prison. He was already serving a life sentence when he escaped, but this time, Curt will join him in Club Fed.”
I agreed our time could be better spent doing something else and scratched that off my list. “How about the warrant for Conway’s apartment, then? We might get lucky and find names and locations.”
“The warrant is in the works, and we’ll have it in a matter of hours.”
I put a check mark next to that entry. My suggestions and concerns had been addressed, and I had nothing else to ask. All I wanted to do now was interrogate Mark Conway. I’d calmed down overnight, and I would give him an earful of what our legal system could do to make his life miserable.
Our morning meeting wrapped up, and I called Jared Bell. He was needed back at the jail. Official charges against Mark Conway were going down, which included conspiracy to commit murder, stalking, breaking and entering, and poisoning Bandit. His apartment would be gone through, thanks to the warrant about to be dropped in our laps, and he would never see the light of day again. I would toss in the murders of Norman Flek and Lonny Mares as a kicker to get him talking.
The alarm finally went off on my phone. I’d been catching up with paperwork until Bell arrived. “That’s it, nine a.m. Bell should be downstairs.” I pushed back from my desk and grabbed the folder Henry had compiled last night against Conway. Our visit with him would be his only opportunity to talk—no second or third chances to think about it. I jerked my head toward the door. “Let’s go make his life a living hell.”
Frank chuckled. “I’m up for that.”
Downstairs, we entered the jail wing and signed in. Bill confirmed that Bell was there and waiting with Mark Conway in box number two.
“Good deal.” Frank and I stowed our guns in the wall-mounted lockers and headed down the hallway. We entered the interrogation room and took seats across from Conway and his attorney. I opened the folder and got to the point. “Now that you’ve had your beauty rest, here’s what you’re facing.”
“Your punk detective Johnson read that shit off to me last night.”
Bell snapped his head toward Mark. “Shh, I’ll do the talking.”
I ran my finger down the sheet in front of me. “Just making sure the charges facing you got through that thick head of yours. Here we go. Conspiracy to commit the murder of Tina Morton, breaking and entering.” I locked eyes with him. “And that would be at my house. Not the smartest move on your part.” I cleared my throat and continued. “Stalking at my house, and poisoning my dog. You must be a glutton for punishment.”
He snarled and leaned back in his chair.
“I’m also throwing in the murders of Norman Flek and Lonny Mares.”
“They’re dea—”
Bell slapped the table. “Mark, shut up!”
I smiled. “Oops. Looks like talking isn’t your best attribute, idiot. So you obviously knew Nubby and Lon.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Frank took over. “Yeah, you kind of did. Give us the location of Cruz and the Vasquez boys and we drop some of the charges against you and focus on Maria as the one who set the wheels in motion. We all know the Vasquez brothers killed Tina Morton and are John Vance’s heavy-handed puppets. So cut yourself a break, or you’ll be looking at life behind bars. If you don’t give up Cruz and the Vasquez boys right now, we’ll charge you with first-degree murder.” Frank checked the time on his watch. “In thirty seconds, the deal will be taken off the table and you’ll spend life in prison. Don’t think you’ll get special treatment either. You’ll be in gen pop with the rest of the murderers, and if you’re lucky, you may even share a cell with one.”
“Fine! I’ll tell you where Cruz lives.”
I nodded. “And the Vasquez brothers?”
“They’re staying with him.”
“How much involvement did Hal Morton have in his wife’s death?”
“Enough to know it was an idea being discussed. So, what do I get for giving you Cruz’s location?”
Bell tapped Mark’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.
“You won’t spend life in prison.” Frank checked his watch again. “You have six seconds left.”
“Give me a pen and paper, but I want your deal in writing.” He jotted down the address and waited.
I snatched the paper from his hand. “You get the deal if your information stands up. If it’s bullshit, you get life.”