The fingerprints on the receipt belonged to Bryce James—no surprise there. Tommy and I left police headquarters and headed to Englewood to pick him up while Fitz and Ben returned to Mrs. Pendleton’s apartment with a copy of the composite, even though she only saw the man from a distance and through a second-story window.
We reached the single-story brick house where Bryce lived, likely with a handful of friends with extensive rap sheets. Three patrol officers and a SWAT unit met us there just in case he was our man, which I highly doubted.
Taking them by surprise worked to our advantage, and what we found inside the house was enough to arrest everyone—four men in total. Because they were all felons and the living room alone had six guns in plain sight, everyone was taken to the Seventh District police station, except Bryce. He left with us.
He sat in interrogation room one of the police headquarters. The commanders from the three districts, as well as the headquarters commander and Sergeant Everly, watched from the observation room while Tommy and I grilled Bryce James on his whereabouts Thursday morning at 8:41 a.m.
“I was sleeping, man. What would give you any impression that I’m an early riser?”
“Who can corroborate that, Bryce?” I asked.
“My boys.”
Tommy laughed. “But weren’t your boys sleeping at that time of morning too?”
“Like I said, I don’t know shit. I’ve never been on the roof of that laundromat. Hell, I don’t even do my own wash. That’s what the old lady is for.”
“You’re going back to the pen for felony gun charges no matter what, but if you killed seven policemen and one policewoman, you’re looking at life without parole.”
“Then give me a lie detector test. I’m telling you, I wasn’t there!”
I glanced over my shoulder and nodded at the mirror behind me. Somebody on the other side would arrange that polygraph immediately so we could eliminate Bryce as the killer. We’d be back to square one, and the unidentified man wearing the hat and glasses would become our one and only suspect.
Fitz and Ben were back by five thirty. Mrs. Pendleton said the sketch could be the man she had seen, but since the composite was only a headshot, and all she saw was his clothing, glasses, and hat, she couldn’t be sure. She did say the hat was the same color.
It was after seven when the polygraph results came in—Bryce wasn’t our man, but I already knew that. He was going to be charged for having multiple weapons, and we’d move on with the case.
Everly addressed the group. “Go home, guys, and get some rest. You’ve been on the clock for damn near twelve hours. We’re about to rotate shifts, anyway, and the night crew can follow up on the tip line calls.”
I said good night to the guys and dragged myself to my car. I pulled the phone from my pocket as I took a seat behind the wheel to see how many calls, if any, I’d missed since talking to Adam Coceck. Nobody had called, but I’d forgotten to touch base with Terry Lasko.
“Damn it.”
I’d told him I couldn’t make lunch, but I said I’d call back and have dinner with him. I barely knew the man, but I understood his grief. My bleeding heart had reached out twice, and we shared our stories over a few beers. With the grief counseling he’d been attending, I was sure he wouldn’t need me as a sounding board much longer, but he seemed like a decent guy, and I was starving, anyway. I made the call to see if he was still up for dinner, and he answered on the second ring.
“Terry, it’s Jesse McCord. Sorry about the time, but it’s been a long day. Have you eaten dinner yet?”
“Nope, and as a matter of fact, I was about to pop something into the microwave.”
“Don’t do that. I need to stop at home, tend my pooch, and then I can meet wherever you like.”
“Sure. I don’t know where you live, but how about Mario’s Pizza on Halsted? Is that in the ballpark?”
“Yeah, it’s only ten minutes from me. Give me a half hour.” I hung up, pulled into my driveway, and killed the engine. I would have liked to freshen up, but with only fifteen minutes before I had to leave again, I wanted to spend it with Bandit.
“Hey, buddy, I’m home.” Bandit wagged his tail and yelped. He was definitely happy to see me, but I was going to break his heart again in a few minutes. “I promise you, boy, as soon as we catch this piece of shit and life goes back to normal, you and I are going to spend more time at Promontory Point. Would you like that, pal?” I knelt at his level and endured a few face kisses. “Come on. You need to do your business.” I opened the slider and let him out. As I waited for him to paw at the door, indicating he was done, I filled his food and water dishes.
I would have to make do with a quick splash of cold water on my face to wake up. I’d make it an early night then come home, take a hot shower, and spend time with my dog, who needed the attention desperately.
“Here you go, buddy. Enjoy your dinner, and I promise I won’t be long.” I sneaked out while Bandit ate his meal.
Mario’s Pizza had been in the neighborhood for years, and its seventies vibe brought people to their establishment time and time again. The place was well-known for its friendly atmosphere and delicious pizza pies, and at that point, I knew I could eat an entire one by myself. I entered the red-checked-tablecloth restaurant to find it busy and hoped there wasn’t a wait to be seated. I spotted Terry sitting on the bench near the hostess station and nodded as I walked toward him.
“What’s our wait time?” I was quickly losing my desire for a pizza and was almost willing to eat a vending machine sandwich.
“No wait. We’re up next. I called as soon as I got off the phone with you.”
I grinned with relief. “Great job, thanks.”
The hostess returned to her podium, glanced at her reservations list, and called out Terry’s name.
He stood and cocked his head toward her. “Looks like pizza is in our immediate future.”
We were seated in a booth against the wall, and a server brought water to our table right away.
“May I take your drink order?”
I let out a long breath and was happy to have an hour of relaxation. “I’ll have an IPA.”
“Same here.” Terry picked up the menu and studied it as I did the same. “How about individual pizzas? I’m ready for a whole one with the works.”
I chuckled. “Sounds good to me.”
The server returned minutes later and took our orders.
Terry leaned toward me with his elbows on the table and spoke in a low voice. “So that police shooting case is keeping you busy, huh?”
“You wouldn’t believe it. We even set up a task force to catch that maniac, but I can’t go into details about it.”
He scratched the stubble on his cheek. “Yeah, I get that. Crazy shit you cops have to deal with, right?”
I took a gulp of beer and nodded.
“Are you getting close to catching him?”
I rolled my neck and then shook my head. “You watch the news, don’t you?”
He said he did on occasion.
“Well, I hate to say it, but the press knows almost as much as we do. Anyway, about you, how’s that bereavement class going? Is it helping you through your loss?”
The server brought the napkin-rolled silverware to the table and filled our water glasses. Terry waited until she left before speaking.
“It does help, and I’m getting a lot closer to finding closure. I’m sure I’ll be able to get a full night’s sleep before long.”
“That’s really good to hear.” I pointed at the two large pizzas headed our way. “Looks like it’s time to chow down.”
We talked about our favorite sports teams and gobbled down our pies. It was ten o’clock when I finally tucked my car into the garage and climbed the stairs for the last time that night. When I reached the living room, Bandit was curled up in his usual spot. He wagged his tail but stayed put, which gave me time to hit that much-anticipated shower. By ten twenty, I was refreshed and in the kitchen, popping the tab on a can of beer. I took a seat in the living room and called Bandit over. Scooting across the couch, he lay his head on my lap, and I petted him behind the ears until he fell asleep. I reached out, scooped the remote off the coffee table, and hit the power button. The channel was already set to the only station I ever watched, and I always recorded the local ten o’clock news.
Everly had said he was going to air the composite sketch of the man in question on every news broadcast, but I hadn’t realized they’d be able to get it up so quickly. The image staring back at me on the TV screen included Mrs. Pendleton’s description of him being of average weight. With the tech department’s calculation of the height of objects next to the man in that hotel video and the knee-to-toe length the forensic boys had come up with, they figured the man to be around six foot tall. He was a very average individual and one who would easily blend in with the crowd. The sketch showed a man with his head covered with a plain tan ball cap. The style of his hair was completely obstructed, and he could be balding for all we knew. His only noticeable hair was an inch of brown revealed from the back below his cap. His eye color was unknown since the dark-green aviator glasses completely hid his eyes. The only feature he couldn’t hide was the dimple in his chin, unless he decided to start sporting a beard. I didn’t know how much the sketch was going to help, but I was sure the tip lines were lighting up, anyway.