I planned to spend a half hour of playtime with Bandit while my thirty-minute freezer-to-table stroganoff baked in the oven. Since eating wings at the bar had been a bust, I was starving for food like Bandit was starving for my affection, which I happily gave every chance I could. With my busy schedule, taking on a dog hadn’t been at the top of my to-do list. It wouldn’t be fair to a pet, but because of our history and the fact that Bandit was Jenna’s dog, there was no way I wouldn’t do my damnedest to make it work out for both of us.
“Where’s your ball, buddy?” I watched as Bandit searched the living room for his favorite tennis ball. He had no idea it was squeezed in my fist. When I finally tossed it across the room, he leapt into action and skidded across the hardwood floor like he was on ice skates. I laughed out loud—probably the first time I’d laughed in days—and it felt good.
I hoped the beer I drank with my supper would help me sleep. Thinking about the plot we would put into action tomorrow would not only keep me awake, but also, I’d probably outline every step of the process on paper too. I needed to close my eyes and turn off my mind.
“Okay, Bandit, one more break and then it’s lights out.” I opened the slider, and the motion-sensor lights came on. Everything was working just as it ought to.
I was in bed by eleven thirty and would be lucky to get six hours of sleep, but that would do me fine—I’d lived with much less throughout my life as a cop.
“Come on, boy. Hop up here and get comfortable.” I watched as Bandit jumped up on the end of the bed, did three spins, and settled into his spot. I turned off the table lamp, sucked in and blew out a deep breath, and finally felt my body relax.
I woke to the alarm buzzing on my phone, and the fact that it was Saturday didn’t change a thing. I was up by seven and in the shower by ten after. The coffee perked, and Bandit gobbled down his bowl of kibbles while I got ready for work. My standard bagel and coffee would hold me over until lunch, if there was time for one, and dinner would happen whenever it happened, if at all.
No wonder Frank smokes. It keeps him from thinking about food.
Last night before we left the hotel, we’d stressed to Jared how important it was to stay put and under no circumstances allow his wife and kids to return home for anything. We also told him not to answer blocked calls and said that if John did contact him through text messaging, to call me, read the text verbatim, and I would tell him how to respond. We couldn’t afford any mistakes. The plot to lure John in couldn’t go sideways, and that meant keeping Jared at arm’s length, but protected, until it was time to send proof of death to John Vance.
I arrived at our district station at eight fifteen, and Mills was leaning against his truck with a cigarette pressed between his lips. After parking my Camaro nose to nose with his truck, I got out and rounded my car. “What’s up?”
He kicked a rock and watched as it skidded twenty feet across the asphalt. “Just waiting for you and decided to have another smoke.” Frank reached for the steaming cup of gas station coffee that sat on the hood.
I frowned at the cup. “Isn’t that like drinking hot tar?”
“Yeah, but you get used to it. Ready to get this day going? Should be fun, eh?” He took a sip of the swill.
I huffed my concerns. “Yeah, as long as the plan works. I am curious about the identity of those men that were stationed in front of Bell’s house, though.”
After stomping out the cigarette butt under his foot, Frank picked it up and flicked it into the bed of his truck. We crossed the lot to our building’s main entrance and checked in using the palm reader.
“That’d be great if Tech got a hit on facial recognition,” Frank said as we climbed the flight of stairs to our bull pen.
I tipped my head in agreement. “And that would fit perfectly in my plan if we got them off the streets. We’d eliminate John’s acquaintances, and he’d have nobody to do his dirty work except for Curt and himself.”
We found the bull pen empty when we walked in. Our normal weekend crew was likely being updated in the roll call room by their sergeant, Cameron Rollins.
Frank patted the doorframe then walked out. “Let’s see if Lutz is here.”
We traced our steps back the same way we came from but continued to the third door on the left. It stood open, and inside, our commander was talking on the phone. He pointed at the guest chairs, and we made ourselves comfortable while he finished his conversation. From what he was saying, I was sure he was being updated by our tech department.
Lutz jotted down information as he talked. Trying to read what he wrote from my side of his desk wasn’t easy, but I did see a name, and that was what we needed. Tech must have gotten a facial hit on one of the men.
Bob hung up seconds later and flashed us a smile. “We have a name for the driver, and he has a criminal record. It looks like he has a few outstanding warrants too.”
“What’s his name?” Frank asked.
Lutz shrugged. “Lee Judd. Just some midlevel thug. I’ll send a couple of officers to his residence and take him by surprise. With a little wheeling and dealing, we’ll get the passenger’s name, too, and pick him up as well. Pretty soon, with nobody answering their phones, John will have to come back to Chicago to deal with Bell personally.”
Frank chuckled. “And we’ll be waiting for him with open arms.”
I browsed our to-do list. Don would have to advise us on which poison would supposedly kill people the fastest. I was sure John would ask Jared what he used, and that information needed to be on the tip of Bell’s tongue. Don would have to write up an autopsy report that Jared would forward to John too. Maria and Conway would have to participate in our plot since their deaths would need to be staged for crime lab photographs.
“We have to get Don on board first, right?”
Lutz opened the folder on his desk. “It’s already done. Don put it together for us last night. I guess he didn’t mind working a little OT.”
Frank and I read over the paperwork. “It looks like he decided on strychnine as the poison of choice. Kills fast and mimics cardiac arrest, respiratory failure, and a handful of other symptoms. So, all Maria and Conway have to do is play dead.”
“Essentially, yes. We’ll have Forensics take pictures while they’re still in the cells, and Don can write up fake autopsy reports giving the typical information along with what he believes was their cause of death.”
Frank rubbed his furrowed brows. “But John isn’t stupid. He’ll think we’ve already arrested Bell.”
“Nah,” Lutz said, “that’s where Jared comes into play. He wouldn’t have his phone with him if we had already arrested him.”
I agreed with Lutz. “We have to think like John and what he believes to be true. He’d know we couldn’t arrest Bell without proof that he did something to Maria and Conway, even if we thought the deaths seemed suspicious. That means Don would have to order a tox screen, and it would take a few days before he’d have the results. That would give John plenty of time to come back to Chicago and do away with Bell himself. The only thing we care about is luring John Vance back here in whatever manner works.”
Lutz pushed back his chair and rose, then he rounded his desk. “The crime lab, Don, and the chief are all on board. Let’s head to Maria’s cell first and let her in on the role she’s about to play. I’ll let Mike know we’re on our way.”
I frowned at Lutz as we took the stairs to our lower level. “Mike is working on a Saturday?”
“By special request only. We’re trying to keep our stunt under wraps, and only the department heads and our team know what we’re doing.”
We met Mike Nordgren—his camera wrapped around his neck and his forensic bag in hand—in our lower-level hallway. We walked to the jail wing together.
Frank grinned. “This is the kind of stuff you’d expect to see in a murder-for-hire sting operation.”
“That’s true,” Mike said, “but usually, those victims are made up to look like they were shot in the head and lying in a pool of blood. Unfortunately, Maria and Conway will look more like they’re asleep, but I’ll tell them to keep their eyes open and have them rolled back a bit.”
We checked in with the weekend jail officer, Tim Morely. He wasn’t told what we were about to do and wouldn’t be inside the cells with us. His only role was to unlock Maria’s door and do the same with Conway’s later. Our group entered the area where we kept the accused until they had their arraignments. We walked past two cells before reaching Maria’s. After their arraignments on Monday, she and Conway would both be transferred to the county lockup, where they would stay until their cases went to trial.
Lutz banged his fist against the steel door. Maria crossed the six-by-eight-foot space and stared at us through the small rectangular plexiglass window. A look of confusion covered her face. Tim unlocked the cell’s door, gave us a nod, and left.
The four of us entered and took up most of the available floor space.
“What is this? Where’s my attorney? You can’t talk to me unless he’s present.” Maria backed up until her legs were resting against the side of the bed.
Frank jerked his head at her bunk. “Sit down and shut up. The commander needs to speak with you.”
Lutz began by telling her about the murders of Antonio and Mauricio. “Your brothers are dead, and you and Mark Conway are next on John Vance’s list.”
She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. “It can’t be true. I’ve never even met John Vance. This is some kind of con you’re pulling on me, and I want to talk to my attorney now!”
“That isn’t possible, because he’s in hiding. John Vance threatened to murder him and his family if he didn’t kill you. If you don’t want to be lying on a slab in the morgue, you’ll do what we want.”
“There’s no way my attorney would kill me!”
Frank let out a loud sigh. “And that’s why we’re here.”
Maria gave Mike and his equipment a suspicious glance. “Why is he here?”
“Because the only way to protect you so you don’t end up like your brothers is to fake your death.”
“But—”
“There aren’t any buts, Maria. It’s what you’re going to do. We’ve already gotten clearance to go forward from the chief himself, so Mike is going to walk you through different poses and facial expressions he wants you to wear. He’ll choose the best pictures, which will be sent to John Vance. It’s the only way to keep you alive. He can have somebody kill you during transport or while you’re in court. John has a long reach.” I saw the wheels turning in her head, and finally, our message was getting through to her. She would either die at John’s hand or cooperate with us.
She sat silently as she wiped the tears that still flowed down her cheeks. “I don’t believe my brothers are dead.”
Lutz gave Mike a nod. “Show her the pictures from the crime scene.”
“Really?”
The commander shrugged. “She needs to know how serious this is, so yeah, go ahead.”
With a few buttons pushed, Mike backtracked his still shots to the scene at Abraham Cruz’s house.
Mauricio and Antonio’s pictures were graphic, and Mike was about to show them to their sister. It would be a vision she could never erase from her mind, but it was necessary.
Mike sat at Maria’s side and scrolled through the forensic photographs.
“Stop, stop! I’ve seen enough.” Her face contorted with agonizing sadness. “Who killed them?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lutz said. “All you need to know is that the order came down from John Vance, and he gave Jared Bell the same order for you just last night. You should thank your lucky stars that your attorney called us instead of carrying out the deed. Now his life is in jeopardy too.”