For the second time that day, I walked into the house at an odd hour. Bandit woke from his nap and cocked his head to the left when he saw me.
“I know, right? This job could be a little more predictable for my liking too.”
I opened the slider and let Bandit out while I changed into the kind of casual clothes people from that neighborhood probably wore. Even though Lutz thought the shooter moved from location to location and likely wasn’t watching the first crime scene anymore, we could never be too careful. The killer had already proven he meant business when he took the lives of six good cops.
A quick sandwich would hold me over, and I’d eat it as I drove. I made a cup of instant coffee—used only in emergencies—and poured it into a travel mug. I had only fifteen minutes at home before it was time to turn around and head back to the station. With my band T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans on, I grabbed my Chicago Cubs ball cap, brought Bandit in the house, and reached for my sandwich and coffee. I was out the door in twelve minutes.
Back at the Wentworth station, ten of us sat at the conference room table with Lutz at the head. In attendance were every day shift detective—Mills, Murray, Adams, Potter, Johnson, and myself—and from the night shift, Roberts, King, and Gaines. Phelps was on vacation.
At his back, Lutz had an enlarged map of the crime scene neighborhood printed out and pinned to the corkboard. It looked like the aerial view went out a good eight blocks in every direction, and the map came in handy as we planned which buildings we would focus on south to southeast of the crime scene.
Henry wiped the banana-nut muffin crumbs off his mouth with the napkin then stood. He walked to the map. “We need to search the taller buildings on East Forty-Eighth Street and East Forty-Eighth Place that have windows or balconies facing north to northwest.”
Mills counted the windows in the two-block area. “Between the second- and third-floor apartments in all those buildings, it looks to be around sixty to seventy units.”
I nodded. “That’s doable with all of us pitching in. Take note if anyone seems unusually nervous or uncooperative, and we’ll follow up with warrants for their apartments later.”
“None of us should work alone, but we have an odd number of men,” Murray said.
I looked at Tony. “Why don’t you pitch in here at the station? You’ve got kids, a wife, and that big home to take care of, not to mention, you’d have Bandit if anything were to happen to me.”
“But—”
“He’s right, Tony, and I’d appreciate your help here,” Lutz said.
Frank pushed back his chair and stood. “Then it’s settled. Let’s head out.”
I lifted my hand. “Hold up a second, honcho. We need to pick up the evidence bags, swabs, fingerprint-dusting kits, and tape from Forensics before we leave. Everyone double up with your partner, choose whose vehicles you’re taking, and meet outside in ten minutes. Frank and I will head to Forensics and get the supplies.”
In the parking lot ten minutes later, Mills passed out the kits from Forensics, and I studied the most logical places to leave our cars. Street parking in Chicago was particularly hard to find, but most apartment buildings had extra spaces reserved for the handicapped. Usually there were more spots than needed, and we would only be using four.
I spoke up when it was time to go. “Mills and I, and Johnson and Potter, will park on the east side of the buildings along that block, and Murray and Roberts, and Gaines and King, will find parking spots on the west side. We’ll start on the second floor and work our way up to the roofs and then move on to the next buildings until we meet in the center. Any questions?”
Everyone shook their heads.
“I shouldn’t have to ask, but you all have your vests on under your clothes and your badges and sidearms concealed, right?”
They said they did.
“Okay, then let’s head out.”
We arrived at East Forty-Eighth Street ten minutes later, and by using our cell phones only, kept in constant communication with the other group of four that was starting on the west end of the street. The buildings were all two-story units, and there were six of them. We’d search every building from top to bottom, but luckily, the only interviews we had to conduct—which would take most of our time—were with tenants who had street-facing windows.
I gathered Mills, Potter, and Johnson at my side before we entered the building farthest to the east.
“When we enter, we’ll go directly to the second floor and split up there. Frank and I will take the left units, and you guys take the right. We’ll meet in the middle, clear the roof, and then work our way down every hallway and staircase to the basement. That’ll be the last thing we clear before discreetly checking the perimeter of the building and then moving on to the next. Remember to write down the name and apartment number of any tenant that seems off. They’ll need an in-depth interview or possibly a warrant issued before we check their residence. Also, write down the apartment number where nobody answers, and we’ll try them again later.”
At the top of the stairs, we split off. I gave Henry and Shawn a thumbs-up gesture before Frank and I turned left and made our way to the end of the hallway. We started at the last apartment on the second floor, 216, and I gave the door two hard knocks. When we heard footsteps approaching from behind the door, Mills said he would start the interview.
He palmed his badge and was ready to expose it as the doorknob turned. A face—only four inches of it—looked at us from behind the chain lock. A woman who appeared to be in her forties sized us up and asked what we wanted.
Frank took over. “Ma’am, we’re Detectives Mills and McCord with the Violent Crimes Unit of the Chicago PD. We’re investigating the homicide of those four patrol officers that were gunned down last night.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“Maybe not, but you surely heard the gunshots, right? From your apartment’s street-side window, you’d be able to see those slain officers on the ground after they were shot.”
She shrugged. “I don’t like to get in other people’s business.”
Mills frowned. “And that’s understandable, but we’ll be talking to everyone whose apartment faces the street, not just you. Everything that we learn from witnesses is held in strict confidence.”
She stuck her hand through the opening. “Let me see that badge again.”
Frank complied but held it firmly while she took a closer look.
“Okay, come in.”
Inside her apartment, we learned that Maria Galvez did indeed hear the four gunshots that rang out through the neighborhood last night. “I didn’t call the cops because I knew plenty of other people would.”
“And you’re positive it was only four shots, not five or six?”
“Only four, and it sounded like they were very close, almost like they came from above me. Last night was warm and my window was open.”
My mind flashed back to when I sat on my deck the evening before. It was a perfect night to be outside or to have fresh air wafting in. I returned to the moment. “Really, like the shots came from the roof?”
“Maybe.”
I jotted down that important bit of information. “Did you look out the window, Maria? It’s human nature to be curious.”
She hesitated for a few seconds before continuing. “I turned off my lights and then peeked out. I didn’t want anybody to see me.” She gave us a worried look. “Just in case he was out there.”
I nodded. “Tell us what you saw when you looked out.”
“The lighting in the neighborhood isn’t the best, but I could make out the shapes of the officers on the ground. I even heard groaning. I’m sure some of them were still alive.”
I winced at the thought and included that comment in my notes. “Did you see a person run from the area or notice anyone outside at all?”
She shook her head emphatically. “Nope, not a soul, except for the officers on the ground.”
“Anything else you can remember? Did you hear movement on the roof?”
“No, can’t say that I did.”
I sighed. “Okay, we’re going to check it out, though, and we appreciate your input.” I handed her my card. “If you think of anything else, please call.”
She followed us to the door and said goodbye. I heard the chain slide into the lock after she closed the door behind us.
Frank popped a stick of nicotine gum in his mouth, pocketed the wrapper, then jerked his chin upward. “Should we check the roof now just to see?”
I continued down the hall. “Nothing’s going to change up there in an hour’s time. Let’s clear this floor, meet up with the others, and then we’ll do a thorough search together.”
Knocking on the next door, we heard a male voice eventually call out.
“Who’s there?”
“It’s the Chicago police, sir. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
The door cracked open, and an elderly man stared out at us. “Did I do something wrong?”
I flashed my badge and made the introductions, “Sir, we’d like to ask you about the shooting that occurred last night.”
“Shooting?”
“Yes, around nine o’clock. We were wondering if you saw anything and anyone that appeared suspicious.”
“A shooting last night?”
Mills gave me a sideways glance. “Yes, right across the street. Do you remember what you were doing at that time?”
“Sleeping. My hearing aids come out before bed, and I sleep like a baby.”
We thanked him for his time and continued to the next door.