Wednesday, March 15, 7:20 A.M.
It wasn’t difficult to pick out Vito Ciccotelli, Aidan thought, instantly finding the man in the crowded lobby of the Holiday Inn. He would be the big guy with the wavy black hair and forbidding glare. Even without the obvious bulge of his shoulder holster everything about the man screamed “cop.” Then when his piercing dark eyes saw Tess everything about him screamed “frantically worried big brother.”
She took a step toward him, then they were running. Vito grabbed her into his arms and held her there as if she was precious and he’d almost lost her. Aidan’s throat thickened. Both of which were true.
She hadn’t seen her brother, she’d told Aidan in the car, since Vito had twice rushed to her side ten months before. The first visit was to the hospital after the “con with the chain” as she matter-of-factly referred to her assault. He wondered if she realized she touched her throat when she talked of the experience as if it had happened to someone else. The second time was six weeks later after she’d given Dr. Damn-him-to-hell his walking papers and Vito had given the doctor a bloody nose.
Now Vito frowned at her. “You’re still too skinny. Have you been sick again? And why are you not in your apartment?” He looked over her shoulder and gave Aidan a visual third degree, his dark eyes going cool. It must run in the family. “He’s the cop?”
Tess looked over her shoulder, her lips curved. “No, I’m not, no, I haven’t, it’s a long story, and yes, he is.” She turned so that Vito’s arm was around her shoulders. “Vito, Aidan Reagan. Aidan,” she sighed, “my brother Vito.”
Vito shook his hand, his grip hard but not punishing. “Are you sleeping with her?” he demanded.
“Vito!” Tess’s gasp was shocked.
“Not yet,” Aidan answered and Vito’s jaw tightened. For a moment nobody said anything, then Vito scowled.
“Why is she not in her apartment?”
Aidan looked around. “We can’t talk here.” He checked his watch. Spinnelli had called a meeting for eight sharp. “I have about ten minutes. Do you have a room?”
“Yeah.” Vito was already walking, pulling Tess toward the stairs. “Only two floors up, kid. It’s your lucky day.” He let them into his room and stood in front of the door, arms crossed over his chest like a sentry. “So talk.”
Quickly, concisely Aidan filled him in on the details he felt he could share while Tess sat on the bed rolling her eyes. When he’d finished she waved sarcastically.
“I’m still here, you know.”
Vito shot her a seriously ugly glare. “Yeah, and we want to keep it that way.” He turned back to Aidan. “Who do you like for this?”
Aidan shook his head. “I can’t.”
Vito’s frustration was palpable. “Because you don’t know?”
Because they could be cops. “I have to go.” He looked at Tess from the corner of his eye and then back at Vito. “How long are you going to stay, Vito?”
He hesitated. “I’ve got a few days coming.”
“Good.” He glanced down at her again. “Clayborn’s still out there.”
Her spine snapped rigid. “I thought Spinnelli had people picking him up.”
“They haven’t found him yet. You’ll stay with her?”
“Yeah,” Vito said grimly. “Tess, how do you get yourself in these situations?”
She surged to her feet and punched Vito’s shoulder so hard the man winced. “I didn’t do anything here, you asshole.”
Aidan was still blinking from the rapidity of her movement and the force of her blow, both distinctly unvictimlike. “I didn’t know you had that in you, Doctor.”
She gave him a dirty look. “Now that you do, don’t forget it. Go. You’ll be late. Call me when I can go back in my office. I need to go into the vault and start sorting the records.” She lifted a wry brow. “Patrick will want them for his subpoena.”
“Who’s Patrick?” Vito wanted to know.
“The SA.” Aidan pulled on Tess’s hand. “I want to talk to you.” He pulled her into the hall and shut the door in Vito’s scowling face. “I’m starting to feel sorry for Rachel.”
Her lips curved. “She’s a lucky girl, to have a brother who loves her.” She pulled his head down for a short kiss. “Don’t keep Spinnelli waiting. He gets impatient.”
He slipped his hand under her hair and took the kiss he really wanted, gratified that when he lifted his head she took a long, shaky breath. “So do I.” He kissed her again, hard. Possessive. “I’m sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s all right.” It was. He could see it in her eyes and his thundering heart eased. He started to back away, then swore. She was in his arms before he could take another breath, her arms around his neck, kissing him like she had that morning in the kitchen and he wondered how he could have ever thought her cold because she was burning him up. Shuddering, he buried his face against her neck.
“Be careful,” he whispered fiercely. “Call me if you need me.”
“I will. I promise.”
He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Have dinner with me tonight.”
“What about Vito?”
“Bring him along. As long as he doesn’t stay all night.”
She shivered. “Will I?”
He nipped her lower lip lightly. “That’s up to you. I’m seriously late now. Bye.”
Tess pressed the back of her hand to her lips. Wow. She’d never been kissed like that. Never. Not by Phillip, damn him to hell. Not by anybody. She took an unsteady step toward the door and it opened before she could knock.
“You were watching through the peephole,” she accused Vito and he grinned.
“I always did, kid. How else would I know whose ass to kick for getting too fresh with my sister?” He sobered when she came back in the room. “Mom wants to come.”
All the pleasure vanished. “Then let her come.”
“She wants you to ask her.”
“I did.” Too many times in the last five years. “Don’t get in the middle of this, Vito.”
“I am in the middle of it, Tess.”
“Only you,” she murmured. Only Vito stood by her, braving their father’s wrath. “How are they?” She didn’t need to be more specific. “They” were her family.
“Dino’s expecting again. It’s another boy.”
“Poor Molly.” That would make five boys for her oldest brother and his wife. Two nephews she’d never seen and three more who couldn’t pick her out of a crowd.
“Gino just got a big contract to design a new building. Tino’s engaged.”
Her heart squeezed. “Is she nice?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed hard. “Yeah, she is. Tess, I want you to come home.”
Home. The thought made her yearn. “Why?”
“Because I miss you. We all do.” He sat on the bed, his eyes closed. “Dad’s sick.”
Her gut clenched. “How sick?”
“He had a heart attack.”
She lifted her chin. “He’s had them before.”
“This one was bad. He’s selling the business.”
She turned to the window. “Does he want me to come?” Vito was silent, giving her her answer. She turned back around, her composure restored. “I need to see Flo Ernst this morning. I have a message for her from Harrison. Will you come with me?”
Vito came to his feet. “Sure. Tess, this cop . . .”
“Aidan? He’s nice, Vito. Really nice. He loves his mother.”
He smiled. “Good. Then I won’t have to kill him.”
She smiled back. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
Wednesday, March 15, 8:03 A.M.
Aidan winced when he opened the conference room door to find four pairs of eyes staring. “Sorry,” he muttered and slid between Jack and Murphy. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” Spinnelli said dryly. “But Rick’s about to bust, so we’ll let him go first.”
“I have a lead on one of the cameras.” Rick’s grin went ear to ear. “The oldest one.”
The camera in Tess’s shower. The one that had been in the back of his mind all morning. Even as he’d kissed her, caressed her, a small nasty part of his mind had wondered who had seen her. “How?”
“I remembered that model has a switch inside that has to be set, so I checked.” Rick held up the camera cover. “There’s a partial print on the underside.”
Murphy gestured him to hurry. “I’m gettin’ old here, Rick.”
“We ran the print through AFIS and got a number of matches,” Jack said. “Rick remembered one of the names on the list.”
“It was a sex pervert that installed cameras in a girls’ locker room in a high school,” Rick said. “He’d been contracted to run cable through the building and took a sideline for himself. He used this same model camera.”
“David Bacon,” Spinnelli said, pushing an arrest photo to the middle of the table. “He served three of five years for the locker-room incident. Ended up being classified as kiddie porn because the girls were underage. He got out eight months ago.”
“He cried like a baby at his sentencing,” Rick said with contempt. “Little shit.”
Aidan was staring at Bacon’s picture and description, forcing his mind to stick to the logical. “He cried? That doesn’t fit.” He pulled Tess’s handwritten sheet from his pocket. “Tess developed a psych profile last night.”
Spinnelli narrowed his eyes. “When did she give you this?”
Aidan kept his face bland. “I saw her this morning before I came in. She gave me the profile then.”
Spinnelli nodded, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. What hotel’s she in?”
“The Holiday Inn downtown.”
“Uh-huh. So what does the profile say, Aidan?”
It appeared that would be all Spinnelli would say on the matter. Aidan let himself relax a little. “She said she hasn’t seen this combination of traits in her practice, that it’s very rare, especially to see one so focused and successful. He’s likely male, based on the number of people killed. He’s likely not too young, based on the level of patience and planning he’s shown. He’s an antisocial voyeur, educated and fond of theatrics. He may be an actor or may go to the theater often— Maybe a season-ticket holder. He knows about voices and impersonations, as well as the technology of surveillance. He knows about medicines, specifically psychotropic drugs, and how to use them to make people suggestible. He understands psychology—he picked three of her most vulnerable patients and customized their torture. Or he knows how to recognize these skills in others and ensure their compliance.”
Aidan put the paper on the table so Murphy could see it and continued. “He likes to watch the suffering of others. He probably has a previous history of smaller offenses, although he probably hasn’t been caught. He’s too smart to be caught. Yet. He also doesn’t like to get his hands dirty, but will if called on. He’s very goal-oriented and focused. He may own his own business. He’s accustomed to delegating and good at it. He’s probably not someone who works a menial job.” He frowned. “This kind of person would kill his own mother and not lose a minute’s sleep if it meant reaching his goal.”
“That’s complete,” Spinnelli said thoughtfully. “She put some time into it.”
Aidan thought about her sitting alone in his house with his gun at her side and his dog at her feet, worrying until sheer exhaustion had pushed her into a deep sleep. “She was restless last night. After the day she had, it’s no surprise.”
“David Bacon laid cable,” Murphy said. “He knew how to set up wireless transmissions. That’s educated.”
“But he worked alone,” Rick said. “He liked to watch the girls and know he was the only one who could. It’s one of the reasons he only got five years. There was no evidence he had any accomplices or distributed his videos.”
“Maybe Bacon’s just one of the skilled people he’s delegating to,” Jack said. “Either way we won’t know till we find Bacon.”
“We’ll find him,” Aidan said quietly.
“Well, I’ve got something, too,” Spinnelli offered. “IA broke the Records clerk down and she admitted to checking Adams’s and Winslow’s files out to Blaine Connell.”
Aidan closed his eyes. “No way.” They’d never been friends, but Connell had always seemed like a decent guy.
“IA’s bringing him in today. We’ll get a crack at him after they’re done.”
“If there’s anything left,” Jack muttered. “Hell.”
Aidan broke the silence. “What about Wallace Clayborn? Have we found him yet?”
Spinnelli shook his head. “I sent out a pair of uniforms last night and they couldn’t find him. I gave it to Abe and Mia this morning. Is Tess alone?”
That his brother and his partner would be involved was a comfort. Abe knew his job, as did Mia. They’d leave no stone unturned until Clayborn was found. “No. Her brother came from Philly last night. Apparently her part in Seward’s death is big news all over the country and her family was worried.”
“I saw it on ESPN last night,” Rick offered. “You were on the footage, too, Aidan.”
“Don’t get a swelled head,” Spinnelli said dryly. “What loose ends are dangling?”
Jack scanned his notepad. “I’m still waiting on the serial numbers for the guns you found in Adams’s place. If I haven’t heard anything by lunch, I’ll call.”
“We’ve got the receipts we found in Nicole Rivera’s apartment,” Murphy said. “Once we find Bacon we can check out the toy store to see if anybody remembers her.”
“And we’ve got to find who had access to all the apartments.” Aidan looked at Spinnelli. “Can you get somebody to review the security tapes?”
“Yeah. You guys focus on tracking down David Bacon. I’ll take Connell and IA. I’ll call you all when we know something. I know Connell. I might be able to believe he passed some records, but I can’t believe he’d shoot Nicole Rivera in cold blood. But I’ve been wrong before. Go and keep me up to date. Oh, and Aidan?”
Aidan turned at the door. “Yeah?”
“Tell Tess we need her to organize those files. Patrick called this morning. He’s got a subpoena for her records and wants her to review them with us. While we try to catch this guy we can at least try to block his next move. Tell her I’m sending a uniform to meet her at her office to supervise the cleanup, then take the papers and her thumb drive. Patrick will use her electronic files until the paper records are in order.”
“Are you worried she won’t hand the files over to you?”
“No, I know she’ll do what needs to be done. But we have to be able to document the chain of custody. I don’t want any loopholes for sleazy defense attorneys, Aidan. Between you and me, the uniform’s really for her safety. I’m worried Clayborn will be watching the office, waiting for her.”
The thought of it made him sick. “I’ll tell her. Thanks, Marc.”
Abe was waiting for him at his desk. “I need to talk to you.” He leaned his head close. “Dad reported it.”
Aidan’s sick stomach pitched even harder. “Is Rachel going to school today?”
“We thought it would look worse if she didn’t.”
“Probably.” He blew a breath up his forehead. “God, Abe. Part of me wishes she’d left well enough alone and never went to check on her friend.”
Abe squeezed his shoulder. “I know. She said the same thing. Then she said she wouldn’t have been able to look herself in the eye if she’d let it go.”
Pride met the nausea half way. “She’s a good kid, Abe.” He swallowed. “If one of those assholes looks at her wrong . . .”
“I know,” Abe said grimly. “Mia and I are off to find Clayborn. Try not to worry.”
Aidan rubbed his forehead as Murphy’s phone rang. “Murphy must be out smoking. I’m considering taking it up myself. I feel like arrows are coming from all directions.”
“I know how you feel.”
Aidan knew that Abe did understand. It hadn’t been that long ago that Kristen had been the target of angry killers. “Just find Clayborn, okay?”
“We’re on it. I’ll call you when we find him.” Aidan’s phone began to ring and Abe raised a brow. “Somebody wants one of you real bad. See you later.”
Sinking into his chair, Aidan picked up the phone. “Reagan.” He flipped through his Rolodex for the parole office’s number. They’d have Bacon’s last known address.
“Detective Reagan, my name is Stacy Kersey.” The voice was nearly a whisper. “I’m assistant to Lynne Pope, Chicago On The Town.”
“No comment,” Aidan said tersely and started to hang up.
“Wait, dammit!” she snapped, then her voice dropped again. “Listen to me.”
“We’re not done with your tape.” Rivera’s final imitation of Tess was evidence.
“It’s not about the tape,” she hissed. “Lynne Pope just came back from a meeting with some guy claiming to have porn flicks of your shrink on a CD.”
Aidan shot to his feet, his pulse spiking. “What? Can you keep him there?”
“For a little longer. He’s starting to get itchy feet. I’m supposed to be getting fifty grand in cash to pay him for the video. But he won’t wait much longer.”
“What does this guy look like?”
“Five nine, salt-and-pepper hair. Fifty, maybe. Sleazy.”
Bacon. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I’m going to send a patrol car to hold him at the door in case he leaves before I get there. Thanks.” He ran to Spinnelli’s office. “We have a lead on Bacon.”
Spinnelli looked up, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe we’re finally catching a break here. Go. I’ll call Tess and tell her to start on the files.”
Aidan found Murphy outside the station’s front door taking his last puff. “Come on.”
Wednesday, March 15, 8:55 A.M.
“Goddammit to hell.” Murphy’s oath was savage.
Aidan closed his eyes and fought to get a grip on his own temper. They were five fucking minutes too late. David Bacon was gone, taking his CD with him.
“I’m sorry.” Lynne Pope looked devastated. “I tried to keep him here. I should have called 911.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”
Murphy forced a smile. “You tried and we appreciate it. Did he say anything before he left? Anything that would let us know how to find him?”
“No. He got fidgety. It was almost like he had radar or something. He started sweating, then jumped up and said he’d be in touch. I called security, but he ran.”
“How did he originally contact you, Miss Pope?” Aidan asked, trying not to think about that slimy bastard running around with a CD of Tess.
“He called the switchboard after the broadcast last night. He said he had more information on Dr. Ciccotelli’s unethical practices. I met him this morning and he showed me the CD. Said she was a local celebrity now and he wanted fifty grand.”
“You could have bought it,” Aidan said, studying her angry face. “Why didn’t you?”
“I hear cops say they don’t like coincidences,” she said tightly. “Well, neither do I. Nor do I like being made to look like a fool on camera. I could see the shock in her eyes yesterday, Detective. She’s a pawn in whatever the hell’s going on here. I won’t be.”
Aidan gave her his card. “She’d want me to thank you. Call me if he comes back.”
Outside Pope’s office, Murphy hurried toward the elevator. “Parole Office just opened. Let’s get an address for our peeping Tom.” He hit the button harder than necessary. “Then we’ll get a warrant. Somewhere, something’s got to give.”
Wednesday, March 15, 9:45 A.M.
“What a mess.”
Tess glanced over at Vito who stood outside the vault surveying the ruin. Next to him stood a uniformed officer sent by Spinnelli to supervise the cleanup, but Aidan had told her the real reason for Officer Nolan’s presence and it made her feel that much safer. Clayborn would have to get through both Nolan and Vito to attack her. And if he did manage to get her alone, Tess had Aidan’s gun in the purse his mother had brought her the night before. “Thank you, Vito. I wouldn’t have noticed on my own.”
“Be nice to me, kid. I’m on my vacation here.” His tone was light, but his face was tight as his eyes paused on the bloodstained paper still on the vault floor.
Tess’s heart stuttered painfully. Harrison’s blood. She pulled on a pair of plastic gloves and gathered the ruined documents. “I don’t think these will be of any use, Officer Nolan. I’ll put them in a bag and you can enter them as evidence.”
Nolan gave her a curt nod. “That will be fine, Doctor.”
He didn’t like her, Tess knew. She’d spent so many hours with Aidan and Jack and Murphy and Marc Spinnelli that she’d almost forgotten the rest of the police force still hated her guts. She and Vito worked steadily for nearly an hour before Amy’s voice interrupted them. It was a good time for a break.
“Tess?” Amy’s face lit up. “Vito! My God, it’s good to see you.”
He smiled back. “You’re looking good, Amy.”
“When did you get into town?”
“Last night. I was worried about Tess.”
Amy glared. “As were we all. Somebody forgot to call to say she was okay.”
“I said I was sorry,” Tess muttered. “So did you come to harass me or what?”
“I came to see if you were all right.” Amy’s expression softened. “So are you?”
“I’ve been better.” Her visit with Flo Ernst had not gone well. Still wildly grieving, she’d been given a sedative by her doctor. One of the Ernst sons frostily advised her to come back after the funeral, which would be Saturday. Respecting their grief, she’d pushed aside the hurt and left saying no more. “But I suppose I’ve been worse.” Amy would know better than anyone else, having stood by her through all those times, too.
“I know, honey,” Amy said softly. “And you’ll get through this like you got through everything else.” She looked around. “Where’s Denise?”
“In Harrison’s office.” Tess glanced at the closed door, in her mind seeing the broken furniture, the blood on the corner of his desk. “She’s cleaning. I couldn’t.”
Amy smoothed a hand over Tess’s hair. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be a superwoman every day.”
“Dr. Ciccotelli?” A young man wearing the jacket bearing a local courier’s name poked his head in the door. “I have a package.” He stepped in, bicycle helmet under his arm, a flat cardboard envelope in one hand. “You have to sign for it.”
Frowning, Tess did, but Vito stepped up to take the package first. “Let me check this,” he said, pocketing the receipt. He felt the envelope. “It’s a CD. Were you expecting a delivery?”
She looked at the label. “From Smith Enterprises? No. But I’m always getting samples of textbooks on CDs from companies wanting reviews. Should I open it?”
“I will. Stand back.” Stepping to the far corner of the reception area he opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper and a CD. And paled. “Call Reagan. Now.”
“What is it?” Tess walked over and frowned when he turned the paper over, hiding it. “Dammit, Vito, let me see it.”
She took the page, not sure what she was expecting. Not expecting what she saw.
Frozen, she stared at . . . herself. Full color. Fully nude. A typed line under the picture read “Deposit $100,000 to the account below or the enclosed video will be sold to the media for wide-scale distribution. You have until midnight tonight.” Mechanically she handed the page back to Vito, carefully turned on her heel, marched out into the hall where she dropped to her knees and threw up.
Wednesday, March 15, 11:15 A.M.
Aidan was out of the elevator before the doors fully opened, running down the hall to where a uniform stood outside her door. “Where is it?” Aidan demanded.
The uniform, whose name was Nolan, pointed to the edge of the receptionist’s desk. “It’s there. Delivery guy dropped it by. Made her sign for it and everything.”
“Thanks for giving dispatch the company’s name,” Murphy said. “We were able to send a patrol car to catch up with him when he made his next delivery.”
The delivery man waited for them downtown. Neither Aidan nor Murphy expected any more out of him than they’d gotten from the delivery service. The package had been dropped off with a money order that morning. The clerk’s description loosely fit Bacon, but it could easily be applied to half the middle-aged men in Chicago.
“The delivery guy looked like a college kid,” Nolan said. “I doubt he knew what he had. He would have kept it for himself if he did.” Uneasily he looked over his shoulder. “She was totally cooperative about the papers in the vault. I didn’t expect that.”
Murphy looked inside the office. “Who’s been here this morning?”
“Her brother, the receptionist, and her lawyer friend. She got pale and shocky when she saw the CD and her brother wanted to call 911 but she wouldn’t let him. The lawyer called their doctor friend who wanted to give her something to calm her down, but she refused. A maintenance person came up to clean the carpet. That’s it.”
Aidan gave him a brief nod. “Thanks.” Inside, Vito stood on the far side of the receptionist’s desk. His arms were tightly locked across his chest and a muscle twitched in his cheek as he stared into Tess’s office where she sat on the tattered remnants of a sofa looking shell-shocked. Equally horrified, Amy Miller and Jon Carter sat on either side of her, while a young woman hovered in the open doorway to Ernst’s office, clearly uneasy. She would be Denise Masterson, Aidan thought, remembering his search of Tess’s practice and its employees.
“Do you have any idea how much I want to kill him?” Vito murmured without taking his eyes from Tess.
Aidan exhaled quietly. “Yeah. I do.”
Vito’s head whipped around, unholy fury burning in his dark eyes. “You knew?”
“Not until this morning. We didn’t know he’d sent her a copy.”
Vito’s eyes slid closed. “Copy. Then there are more.”
Murphy cleared his throat. “How close are you to getting those papers in boxes?”
Vito’s eyes opened and he blinked, as if just realizing Murphy was there.
“This is my partner, Todd Murphy,” Aidan said quietly.
“We’d just gotten started. Get your LT to send somebody to finish the job.” Vito’s jaw cocked belligerently. “I’m taking her home.”
“She can’t go back to her apartment,” Murphy said, his voice nonconfrontational.
Vito gritted his teeth. “I don’t mean that mausoleum on Michigan Avenue. I’m taking her home. We’ll be on the next flight to Philly.”
“No.” Tess pushed off the sofa, pausing as if testing the ability of her legs to hold her up. Amy Miller and Jon Carter both stood up behind her, ready to catch her if they didn’t. Tess gently pushed Amy’s hands away. “I’m fine, Amy.” She walked across her office and stood next to Vito, Amy and Jon flanking her from behind. “And I’m not going anywhere, Vito.” Her face was pale but her eyes were clear. She lifted her chin and met Aidan’s eyes and pride welled within him. “This isn’t the same guy.”
Aidan knew it, but wanted to hear why she thought so. “Why not?”
“This lacks the coldness, the preparation of the other attacks. This feels more . . . opportunistic in nature. Like one of his flunkies chewed the end of his leash and ran away.” She shrugged. “The other attacks were intended to terrify, to subjugate. To exploit sick, vulnerable people until they break. Ultimately the worst this could do is embarrass me. And that’s only if I let it. Which I have decided I won’t.”
“We’ll find him, Tess,” Aidan said.
“Of course you will. He’s the only link to the person who’s killed four people. I’m just a piece of this. They should be your focus. I’m okay, Aidan. I wasn’t at first, but I am now. Go do your job.” Her bravado wilted when he picked up the package that sat on the edge of Denise’s desk. “Do you have to take that?”
“It’s evidence, honey. But I promise nobody will look at it that doesn’t have to.” Aidan looked up at Vito. “Are you going back to Philly?”
“You caught the sonofabitch that did this yet?” Still angry, Vito swept his hand wide indicating the ruined office.
Clayborn was still at large. “No, not yet.”
“Then I’m staying.”
“Then have dinner with us tonight. We can talk more. I’ll call you later, Tess.” So busy was he with his own thoughts that he was climbing in the passenger side of Murphy’s car before he realized his partner hadn’t said a word in a long time. “What?”
“Nothing.” But Murphy’s lips twitched.
“What?”
Murphy glanced over before pulling into traffic. “You called her ‘honey.’”
Aidan rolled his eyes. Busted. “So?”
“And she’s cooked for you.”
Oh yeah. Memories of the morning flooded back and he shifted in his seat. “Just drive, will you?” He looked at his notepad. “Bacon’s mother’s house is off Cicero.” They’d already been to the address Bacon had left with his parole officer, an overworked man who hadn’t taken the time to check the fact that the “apartment” was really a pet store in a strip mall.
“What if we don’t find him in time?” Murphy asked, all levity gone from his voice. “If one copy of that CD gets out, we can’t guarantee Tess it won’t be broadcast somewhere. Today or ten years from now. She’ll have to live with that. Can you?”
Aidan wasn’t sure and that bothered him. “I’m just having dinner with her, Murphy.”
Murphy opened his mouth as if he’d say more, then shrugged. “Okay.”
Wednesday, March 15, 11:55 A.M.
David Bacon was an innocent man harassed by the police.
It had to be true. Bacon’s mother said so from the other side of her screen door. A sour old woman in her seventies, her ragged black hair sported a wide, white stripe down the part and her thin lips were painted bright red. Through the screen door Aidan was struck with the odor of mothballs and cats.
“We’re not here to harass him,” Murphy assured her. “Can we come in?”
“He’s not here,” she snapped, holding her body rigid. “And no you may not come in.”
“We just came from the address he gave his parole officer, Mrs. Bacon,” Aidan said quietly, his eyes searching what he could see of her living room through the screen. “It’s a pet store in a strip mall. Right there, that’s a violation of his parole.”
She paled, leaving two spots of bright rouge on her cheeks. “You can’t send him back to prison. It would kill him.”
No, that pleasure should be mine. And Vito Ciccotelli’s. “Where is he, Mrs. Bacon? Is he living here with you?”
“No, I swear. He moved out.” Hurting her feelings in the process, Aidan could see. “He said he needed space. I don’t know where he is. Please leave now.”
Aidan and Murphy exchanged a glance and Murphy nodded. “I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us, Mrs. Bacon,” Murphy said.
Her mouth dropped open. “I’m under arrest?”
“No, ma’am.” Murphy’s voice was deceptively kind. “We’d just like you to come along and answer some questions since your son isn’t available to do so.”
And so she couldn’t call and warn him the cops were on his tail.
Her thin red lips trembled. “But I can’t.” Weakly she gestured backward. “My cats. Who will take care of them?”
“You shouldn’t be gone long, ma’am,” Aidan said. “You can leave them some food and water if you like, but we’ll need to escort you while you do.”
They followed her through her kitchen into the laundry room where she proceeded to fill four small bowls with cat food. The odor was worse in the laundry room, the enormous litter box overflowing.
I think I’m going to pass out, Aidan thought. Holding his breath, his eyes swept the small room, coming to rest on Mrs. Bacon’s laundry basket on top of the dryer. Folded neat as a pin were several short-sleeved polo shirts. Men’s polo shirts. Sewn above the heart was the logo for WIRES-N-WIDGETS, a local chain of stores offering a wide selection of electronic gadgets. Gently Aidan cleared his throat. Murphy followed his gaze, his lips curving.
“Let’s get you a coat, ma’am,” Murphy said. “It’s cold outside.”
Wednesday, March 15, 12:15 P.M.
“More coffee?” the waitress asked from behind the counter. It was an upscale little diner done in a nouveau forties style that brought scenes from the classic old movies to mind. Situated near the Art Institute, it drew an eclectic crowd of businesspeople and academics and was alive with discussion. Nobody paid any attention to a person sitting alone nursing a cup of coffee on a cold afternoon.
Normally this was a place to sit and reflect. Today it was a place to brood.
“Please, but just halfway. Thanks.” Something had gone wrong. A loose thread left unsnipped had raveled, threatening the whole plan. A camera in Ciccotelli’s bathroom. Who would have considered it? I should have. I should have checked. I should have killed him. But that kind of killing required disposing of a body and that left more ends unsnipped. Using Bacon had been a calculated risk. Sometimes risks went wrong.
Now there were films out there whose content was . . . uncontrolled. How soon before he tries blackmailing me? That thread would have to be snipped. Right away.
The coffee left a bitter taste, but no less bitter than the knowledge that once again Ciccotelli had landed on her feet. The cops had formed a protective wall around her. She’d spent the night with Reagan. Slut. Don’t tease me, Aidan. You made me remember what it felt like to be wanted, Aidan. It was enough to make a person gag.
Reagan was interested. That would have to be nipped in the bud as well. And I know the very way to do it. But first things first. Bacon needed to be dealt with. Snuffing that sick sonofabitch would be satisfying.
But even more satisfying would be Ciccotelli’s reaction to her latest loss.
He’d suffered so, moaning for help. Moaning for Ethel. Begging for mercy, for answers. Why? He’d been so pitiful, his cries stirring the Blades to more violence. The gang boys had done well. His wounds would show a sustained beating, but nothing traceable. Some might call their arrangement blackmail. I prefer to think of it as a business proposition that benefited both sides. The day suddenly seemed less dismal. No more brooding. There was work to be done.
“Check, please.”