Terry was home by eleven o’clock and slipped into the house through the rear door of the garage. Paying a private driver to take him to and from his destination had worked perfectly and would throw suspicion elsewhere, and now the .22 was back on the end table, just like it had been ninety minutes earlier. The shooting of a lone EMT, and using a different gun, would put doubt where doubt was needed—in the mind of Detective Jesse McCord.
Maybe it’s time to move to a new city. I can continue to work remotely. This house is a rental, anyway, and now I have no family left in Chicago. Jesse McCord sniffing around will definitely throw a wrench in my plans unless I take him out too. Tomorrow, I’ll find out what kind of cars the two detectives drive. I’ll either ditch them the first chance I get so I can go about my business without being tailed, or I’ll draw them in and put them both down once and for all.
With plenty to think about, Terry made himself a gin and tonic, carried it to the bedroom, and placed it on the nightstand while he thought about his next move.
I already know quite a bit about Jesse’s tragic family background and now even where he lives, but what about that other detective? What name did Jesse yell out? Oh yeah, Tommy. Guess it’s time to find out who Detective Tommy actually is.
After a lengthy online search of Chicago’s detectives by districts, Terry finally found it—Tommy Sanders, a longtime detective from the Seventh District.
Now, to dig deeper into Tommy’s personal life. I’m sure I can find something to use as leverage if need be.
Terry glanced at the wind-up alarm clock on the nightstand next to his empty glass. More than two hours later, all that remained was a half inch of water that had once been ice cubes.
Got it. I have everything I need to jack up law enforcement and the emergency rescue services. They’ll change their policy in a hurry or die while thinking about it.