The ringing phone startled me out of my deep sleep. I swatted at my pants pocket until I felt the familiar shape. Squinting at the screen, I answered in a dry, cracked voice.
“McCord.”
Everly’s cursing on the other end filled the line. “What the hell are you two doing, sleeping on the job? There’s been another shooting!”
I sprang up and looked at the empty chair five feet away. Where the hell was Tommy? Seconds later, I heard the toilet flush, the door opened, and Tommy appeared at the living room end of the hallway.
“How is that possible?” I turned my wrist and checked the time. “I’ve been asleep for an hour or so, but Tommy is right here, and Terry’s car never left his house.”
“Then Terry is the wrong guy!”
Fully awake, I paced the room, but the right words and clear logic escaped me. I was as certain as I could be, especially now with the ammo purchase, that Terry was our guy.
“What do you want us to do, Ron?”
“Find out if he’s home. Peek in the garage, peer in the windows, do something. He either slipped through your fingers, or it could be the work of a copycat killer. And you better hope for the latter. Call me back when you find out if he’s home.”
The call ended abruptly.
“Son of a bitch, Tommy, how long were you in the bathroom?”
He raked his hair and paced alongside me. “Five minutes, tops. I swear.”
I shook my head. “Five minutes is long enough for him to back out of his garage and disappear into the night. Our necks and jobs are on the line. Grab your gun and flashlight, and let’s go.”
We erred on the side of caution and slipped out through the gate. Crossing the street right away, while we were still several houses from his, was not only wise but also the right thing to do. It would make it harder for him to see us if he was actually home. I waved Tommy across the street.
“Get the lead out, dude. Hurry up.”
Luckily, the porch light was off when we reached Terry’s house. We went directly to the garage side of the fence that wrapped the backyard. I peered over it and saw a garage window facing the side yard only five feet in. I nodded at Tommy, who was positioned at the gate, and with his arm outstretched, he reached over and lifted the latch. We both entered the side yard and continued on.
I jerked my head toward the rear of the house as Tommy and I approached the window. “There’s a light on in a room back there. I can see the ambient glow off the patio.” Pressing my face against the window glass, I looked in. The garage was so dark I couldn’t see anything. “I’ve got to use the flashlight.” I let out a slow breath and whispered, “Here goes.” I held the end of the light against the window pane. “I don’t believe it. His car is inside.”
Tommy pointed at the back of the house, and I grimaced. In my mind, the car in the garage told us what we needed to know—he was home, and either the shooter was a copycat, or Terry was never the killer and my thoughts were wrong. Why invite trouble?
“He’s home, so let’s get out of here.”
Determination overtook Tommy, and he shook his head. “We’ve come this far. I want to know if he’s really here. He could have slipped out and taken a taxi somewhere to throw us off his trail.”
I whispered under my breath. “That’s if he knew we were surveilling him, which he didn’t.”
Tommy continued on and rounded the back of the house. I followed since he was going to look for Terry inside, whether I agreed to join him or not.
A light came from behind the blinds in a room we couldn’t identify. I had my doubts that it was the kitchen, but it could possibly be a family room like Tommy had mentioned earlier. I pressed my ear against the glass and heard what sounded like a TV playing.
“He’s probably asleep on the couch. Now let’s go before we’re the next cops in his sights.”
Back at the house, I updated Everly. He told me I was on Speakerphone, and what sounded like a roomful of people listened in.
“What did you find out, Jesse?”
“Terry Lasko never left his house, Ron. His car is in the garage, and the lights and TV are on in what’s likely a family room at the back of the house.”
“So tonight’s shooting was either done by a copycat or the real killer, which isn’t Terry after all.”
Tommy chimed in. “Then why did he drive nearly a half hour from his house to buy .223 ammo for a gun he doesn’t own?”
The room and phone lines went silent.
“Ron, what exactly happened tonight?” I asked.
“A shooter mowed down an EMT that had ended his shift and was walking through the parking lot to his car.”
“Where?”
“South Wabash, near McCormick Place. It was a private ambulance service.”
“So a 911 call didn’t come in, and he gunned down one person in a parking lot? That doesn’t sound like the fanfare our killer seems to enjoy.”
“You may be right.”
I recognized the voice belonging to my commander, Bob Lutz. “Sir.”
“Jesse.”
Everly spoke up again. “Okay, sorry for the outburst earlier. District One will keep us posted on that shooting. Maybe it was a personal issue and just a coincidence that the man was an EMT.”
I peered out the break in the blinds and gave Terry’s house another look. “Could have been an armed robbery gone bad and totally unrelated to our case. By the way, do we know what kind of gun was used, or hasn’t Lawry arrived on scene yet?”
“That information hasn’t come in, but we’ll know more in the morning.”
I hung up and grabbed a beer out of the cooler. I was frustrated. Now another killer was muddying up our investigation, and we still didn’t have anything pointing a definitive finger at Terry.
“If he has a job outside his home, he’ll be leaving in the morning, won’t he?” Tommy asked.
“You’d think so, and if he does, you follow him while I have a chat with the neighbors.”