Fractured Page 11

  “My cousins are doing some work for my parents and last time they messed it up.”

  Why wasn’t he honest with Jonas? He’d known him forever and trusted him. But still he didn’t want to divulge what he’d been doing behind Isabella’s back. Had this job screwed him up so much he couldn’t even trust his own partner, or did he just not want to admit what he’d been up to?

  * * *

  “Ms. Sanchez, I’m calling for Special Agent Malone. Your apartment has been processed by the crime scene unit and we’ve sent a crew in to clean things up. You are free to move back in if you’d like.”

  Isabella wasn’t surprised Malone would have somebody else do the grunt work. “Tell Special Agent Malone it’s about time.” She didn’t try to hide her annoyance as she closed the phone.

  Didn’t matter, she was going to be able to move back into her place. A part of her was happy to be free to do what she wanted, but another part wasn’t altogether comfortable with the idea, even though she’d been pushing hard for it to happen. Staying with Landry hadn’t been that bad. In fact, she’d kind of enjoyed it, even if she’d never admit that to him. Having somebody to talk to had been a good diversion.

  Then again, he was bossy and over-the-top controlling, especially now that she was kind of a gimp. But he was cute and fun to be around.

  She shouldn’t think like that. Victory was hers. She could do what she wanted when she wanted without having to answer a million questions first.

  She pulled to the curb in front of her apartment and got out. Part of her wanted to call Landry and let him know. The other part knew he’d try to talk her out of staying there. Judging by the shakiness in her fingertips, she might cave too easily.

  She removed the crime scene tape from the front door, but didn’t feel the sense of victory she’d anticipated. Tentatively, she inserted the key and turned the knob. The door squeaked open and she slipped inside, walking up the steps to the second floor. Remembering the last time she’d come up this way was the hard part.

  As promised, Landry’s cousins or uncles or some relative had replaced the door leading to her apartment. It had been freshly painted and varnished. She drew in a deep breath and tried to steady the well of emotion that crawled up her skin. Instead, she focused on unlocking the door and going inside.

  The smell hit her first. Gone was any trace of her lemon-scented furniture polish, or even the oranges that she kept in a basket on the table. Instead, it smelled as if the Fed clean-up crew had used a strong antiseptic to obliterate the blood stains and bodily evidence.

  Revulsion shot through her as she tried to make peace with the violation. She made tentative steps down the hall from the kitchen into the spare bedroom in back. Nothing appeared disturbed, but she glanced around in case Malone had gotten nosy.

  Next she went into the living room, choosing to skip over her bedroom for the time being. The antiseptic smell permeated the living room as well. Normally the fragrance didn’t bother her, but today the odor seemed especially pungent.

  She glanced around the sparsely furnished room, noting the slight changes the cleaners had made. It was nothing vital: her red leather chair had been moved over to the left a few inches, the couch had been put back too close to the wall. She moved them back to their rightful positions before continuing on.

  Exhaustion seemed to overpower her as she retraced her steps to the bedroom. As much as she fought the idea of re-visiting the scene that had burned itself into her brain forever, she needed to do this.

  Funny how she could stomach a messy crime scene without losing her lunch but the stench of the cleaning solution—some kind of concoction of bleach and other disinfectants—made her fight hard to keep the food in her stomach. For the first time she reconsidered her foolhardy decision to do this alone, even though she still rebelled at the idea she needed anyone’s help.

  Reaching inside her pocket, she touched at the handkerchief. Her grandfather had done nothing but offer her support, guidance and love. That’s where her allegiance had always been.

  But still questions about her father’s life and death lingered. She felt like she was trying to fight her way out of a paper bag, not knowing how to accomplish the task, or even if she wanted to. There had to be a reason why he re-entered her life, but did she want to know what it was? Why did she keep having these recurring dreams about him? She didn’t believe in ghosts but she had a niggling sensation he was trying to tell her something, or at least help her to remember.

  As much as she detested the idea of getting close to the actual place where her father’s body had landed, she went to the window and cracked it open. Something had to break through this traitorous feeling setting root in her gut.

  She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath enjoying the cool fall air as it filtered inside. The plain white sheer curtains fluttered in the breeze as the room’s atmosphere went from stifling to tolerable.

  With a new focus in mind, she turned to examine the room’s contents. The sheets on the bed had been stripped but otherwise looked undisturbed. The rug that had been over the hardwood floors had been removed. Tentatively, she glanced toward the desk. Despite logic to the contrary, the indelible image of her father’s body lying crumpled on the floor had burned itself into her mind. She closed her eyes and willed away the image.

  She brushed aside the overwhelming feelings and went back into the hall. For the first time in a few minutes she was able to breathe and she sucked in a deep cleansing breath.

  Exhausted, she went into the spare room and plunked down on the bed. Thoughts tumbled through her mind while tears formed in her eyes. Her life seemed to be falling apart one bit at a time and she felt powerless to stop it. She lay back in the bed and closed her eyes, hoping the key to getting her life back on track would come to her if she concentrated long enough.

  Instead, the opposite happened. Taking those painkillers was probably a mistake. But at the time, her arm was throbbing. Now she felt exhausted from the ordeal, which didn’t amount to much beyond what she normally did on a day-to-day basis. But she guessed being the victim gave her a whole different perspective.

  After all that time of not knowing her father, he’d re-entered her life along with a whole host of problems she hadn’t counted on. But there had to be a reason for him to do that. Why did he take the risk, assuming he’d left the protection of the Feds to do so?

  Sure his cellmate told her he’d kept tabs on her over the years, but to actually come here upped curiosity to a whole other level. She tried to think of it like she would any other case.

  Solving crimes was her forte. Other detectives would run their cases by her for advice all the time. But somehow it was like she had a block preventing her from seeing the truth of what happened in her own situation.

  As much as she wanted to get up, the lure to stay right there was strong. A swell of emotion curled inside bringing tears to her eyes once again. She didn’t know how or why her life had gone so off-course, but she vowed at that moment to get herself and everything else on track.

  Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep. Weird dreams invaded her thoughts. Not surprising, her father once again took center stage. He was talking to her, but she couldn’t decipher what he was trying to say. It was almost as if he was speaking in a foreign language. He looked frightened but she didn’t know why. She felt like an outsider, unwilling or unable to help him.

  The sad part was that she wasn’t so sure she wanted to help him. Her cop instincts warred with any daughterly leanings she might possess. He was trying to show her something. But what?

  In the dream, he held out Teddy B imploring her to come with him. Her chest constricted. She’d loved that silly bear. Maybe because it reminded her of the elusive father she didn’t know. Maybe for the simple reason that she was a child and kids get attached to stuffed animals all the time.

  Her grandfather entered the dream, bringing with him the sense of love and overriding commitment. When her mother died, he�
�d stepped up to the plate and had taken over Isabella’s care twenty-four/seven without a hint of hesitation. Even before that time, he’d been a constant in her life.

  He’d seen her off to school each day and helped her with homework. And he loved to cook. Being a combination of Italian and Mexican himself, she never knew each day whether they would have lasagna or tamales for dinner.

  In the dream she saw him as clearly and plainly as if he were alive. Even though she was asleep, the hug he gave her felt tangible.

  Then her phone rang, waking her abruptly. With shaky fingers, she answered. “Sanchez.” She shook her head to clear her thoughts and rid herself of the sensations conjured up by the dream.

  “Hey there. What are you up to?”

  “I’m in my apartment, Landry. It got sprung from Malone’s evil clutches.”

  “I should be there with you.”

  “I’m fine. It’s my place, after all.” But somehow it didn’t feel like her place any more.

  “I’ll come by after shift and stay with you.”

  She sat up and the room spun for a few seconds. Those painkillers made her stupid. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m going to let you go.” Afraid she might give in if the call lasted too long, she closed up her phone.

  She rubbed her eyes and tried to clear her head. She needed to think. She drew up and crossed her legs, resting her arm on her knees. What had her father been trying to tell her in the dream? Or more plausible, what had her subconscious mind been trying to tell her?

  Closing her eyes she tried to re-create the last few moments of her dream before she awoke. She still couldn’t make any sense of what he’d said or he was trying to say. Then, it hit her.

  Teddy B.

  Maybe she’d conjured up the idea because she and Landry were discussing it earlier. It seemed logical that she’d dream about it. It was her last real memory of seeing her father alive.

  Still curiosity nagged her. Where would her grandfather have put it? Would he have thrown it out?

  Somehow she didn’t think so. No doubt he was angry when her father got convicted of murder, but surely he wouldn’t have gotten rid of it since it was her favorite toy. She had clung to that bear in the months that followed her mother’s death. It had been her lifeline, her best friend, her companion when she felt abandoned.

  At the time her grandfather had been wracked with grief. While he tried to be there for her, she could see the spark missing from his eyes. Even at a young age, she felt the difference, although until this moment hadn’t examined the sequence of events.

  Before she had a chance to think anything through, her phone rang again. No doubt it had to be Landry trying to talk her into coming over. He’d never give up after only one try.

  “Landry, don’t you have any work to do?”

  Except it wasn’t Landry on the phone. “I know where you can find Lou.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Who is this?” Tingles formed along her spine while her stomach suddenly went a little queasy.

  Not surprisingly, the caller ignored her question. “Take the Orange line south to Midway Airport. I’ll meet you there at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow. Make sure you come alone or it isn’t going to happen.”

  “But how will I-” She didn’t bother to finish her thought. He’d already hung up. She glanced at the caller ID, but the number had been blocked.

  This kind of stuff only happens on TV. Even then only a stupid person would comply with a request like that without some kind of back-up plan. She wasn’t by any means stupid, and she wasn’t going in there defenseless.

  With tomorrow being Saturday, she had a much bigger problem. How could she shake Landry? After ten years on the force, he’d earned the Monday through Friday gig. No doubt if she told him about the call, he’d insist on coming with her. If she refused, he’d show up anyway.

  She really only had one choice to make if she wanted to keep him away: She couldn’t tell him. Then again, that might be foolhardy. But she could wait until she was on the way there to let him know where she’d be. Just in case.

  * * *

  Landry had been waiting for Isabella to call him back all night, but she hadn’t. Sooner or later he’d have to give in and call her, but for once he wished she’d take the initiative.

  On their dinner break Jonas munched on the fried catfish, while Landry had ordered the perch. They both sat in companionable silence until Jonas’s phone rang.

  He pushed back from the table. “I’ve gotta get this.” Without another word, he walked outside. Normally Jonas wouldn’t leave for a simple phone call. Landry figured it was about his kid. Between the worries and the financial expense, as well as what they saw on the streets from people engaged in a druggie lifestyle, Jonas had to be going crazy.

  With Jonas out of earshot, Landry figured it would give him the opportunity to make his case one more time to Isabella. “How you doing?”

  “All right.” Her voice sounded shaky. “It’s weird being back at the apartment, but I’m managing so far.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to spend the night?”

  “No.” Her answer came back quick. “I have to get used to this sooner or later. I might as well jump right into the fire.”

  If he could get inside maybe she’d agree to let him stay. “Your medication’s still at my place. Do you want me to bring it by when I get off?”

  “Nope, I’m going to cold turkey it. Besides, that stuff makes me stupid. I need a clear head. I’ve got some over-the-counter pills. I’ll take them.”

  “Jonas and I ran across the Kings and the Aces on a street corner being friendly with each other and making like they were signing some kind of peace treaty. I know you haven’t been cleared to get back on the job yet, but have you heard anything about some kind of truce?”

  “Last time I talked to Matthews it was the day my fath…Mr. Samuels…was killed. He didn’t mention anything about a truce. If there is one and it wasn’t coerced by the superintendent, it can’t be a good thing for us. They’ve got to be up to something. And I’ve got to think it involves a whole lot of money and or power.”

  “Jonas and I will keep an eye on it, and I’ll mention it to your sergeant.” He hesitated for a second, uncertain if he should even bring up the subject. “I also asked them about Ramirez, but they claimed he left town. What do you make of that?”

  “I’m not sure, but I’ll touch base with Matthews to see if he’s heard anything.”

  “Can I help you with any legwork tomorrow? I’ll be off.”

  “No, I’m good.” Again, she answered a little too quickly for comfort. “This is my mess, not yours.”

  He knew he couldn’t push her. If he did, she’d only get her back up. Instead he thought it would be best to see if he could figure out what she was thinking so he could determine what she’d do next. “You should ask to see those videos from Stateville. If they claim you were there, you have a right to scrutinize them.”

  “It seems like a moot point now as this thing plays out. If they really did spring my dad, why would they care if I came to visit him?”

  “True. But it would give you a clue as to how deep they went with this. Did they doctor up the tape, or did they go so far as to have somebody impersonate you? Or is it just a case of mistaken identity?”

  “It still doesn’t make any kind of sense to me.”

  “Doesn’t it make you curious? I sure am, and I’m not the one being set up.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I’ll put it on my to-do list.” She hesitated for a few seconds as if trying to decide what to do next. “How about if I give you a call tomorrow afternoon after you wake up? You can take me to lunch and help me figure out a way to confront Malone without strangling him with my bare hands.”

  He chuckled. “Sounds like it might take all my brainpower to figure that one out.”

  “You’re a smart guy. I’m pretty sure you’re up to the task.”

  “Good night, Isabella. Call me if you need me.
” He hated to let her go but knew he had to. As soon as he hung up, he called Malone. “Tell whoever you’ve got watching her to keep a close eye out. She’s definitely up to something.”

  * * *

  Alone in her apartment, Isabella sat in the living room with her notepad and tried to develop a timeline for what and how everything happened. Some things she knew. Some things she had to approximate, like her father’s departure from Stateville. According to his cellmate, Angus, her dad’s faked death had occurred two weeks earlier than he’d actually died. She had to assume the Feds had broken him out on the same day as the fake stabbing.

  The only logical explanation was that he had some information the Feds desperately needed. It must have to do with somebody inside the prison, or somebody who had connections inside the prison, or they wouldn’t have developed the elaborate ruse and faked his death. Could she assume that they had planned to put her father into some kind of witness protection program? Or had the Feds planned to simply transfer him to another prison in the middle of nowhere? And what was he doing for the two weeks between the time he left Stateville and the night he ended up dead in her apartment?

  He was dying. How did that play into the scenario? Or did it? Was it a red herring of some sort, or was it the impetus for him to come clean?

  Geez. This whole thing was getting more and more complicated.

  In fact, the more she thought about it, they had to have somebody pose as her and visit with her father to pull this off. They wanted somebody on the inside to know she’d been there.

  But why?

  Who would care? Who even knew her? Sure she was Chicago PD, but more than likely that meant diddly-squat to the guys inside.

  Maybe the place to start would be a list of the current inmates. She should be able to ascertain that information fairly easily. As soon as she was cleared for duty, she’d run that list herself.

  She glanced down at her arm. Big frickin’ problem. There’d be more paperwork to complete before she could get the medical okay to be back on the job. No doubt she’d have to jump through a few hoops to get clearance.