Deadly deception, p.16
Deadly Deception, page 16
He jerked his head toward the rear of the building. “My boss is back there. He has the access code.”
“Thanks. His name is?”
“John Lidenski. Just follow that hallway. He’s in the storeroom.”
Frank led the way and called out the manager’s name as we walked. Once we entered, somebody answered from behind a stack of pallets.
“That’s me.” The man poked out his head. “Who are you?”
Frank explained that we were detectives and how the stock boy out front had directed us back there. “We need to see your camera footage from last night, sir. It’s a matter of great importance.”
The manager wiped his hands on his tan apron. “Sure, right this way.”
We entered a small disheveled-looking office that was opposite the storeroom. Boxes of canned goods took the place of chairs, and a folding table served as a desk. John jiggled the mouse to wake up the computer. After logging in and entering the system’s access code, he asked what time we needed.
Frank gave me a raised brow. “What time was the man dropped off?”
“At eleven forty-five last night, according to the driver. Let’s start at eleven thirty-five and go from there.”
“Not a problem.” John set the time. “Go ahead and hit Play when you’re ready. Just yell if you need something. I’ll be right across the hall.”
The only chair in the room was at the desk, so I tipped my head at Frank. “Go ahead.”
He sat and looked back at me as I stood at his side. “Ready?”
“Hold on a second.” I looked around, slid a box closer, took a seat on it, then gave Frank a nod.
He began the footage. We watched as the seconds and then minutes ticked by. The clock at the bottom of the screen read 11:42.
“Three minutes to go.”
“Give or take,” I said. “The driver’s watch or clock in the car could have been off. Wait, what’s that?” I scooted closer to the computer. “There’s a silver SUV with its blinker on headed this way.”
We watched as the vehicle pulled to the curb and stopped.
“Get ready to hit Pause,” I said while laser focused on the screen. Seconds later, the back door opened, and a man stepped out. “There he is. Pause it now!”
We stared into the face of the same man who’d met Tom Wallace in Wicker Park several days earlier.
“That’s him, one hundred percent. I have no doubt,” Frank said.
“Yep, and he doesn’t have anything on his head. The man is bald, just like the man that Cassidy saw going into the woods. We need a still shot of him so we can take it to her for an ID.”
Frank huffed with what sounded like disappointment. “But she never saw his face.”
“No she didn’t, but look what he’s wearing—a denim jacket.” I stood and headed to the door. I needed that video sent to my email address, then I’d update Lutz. I was sure we finally had enough to get a warrant for the man’s name and address from the rideshare company.
I asked for John’s help, and he happily complied. He sent the video to my in-box, then we thanked him and left. We finally got lucky and didn’t have to pound the pavement for hours while looking for a needle in a haystack. That video was our first real break, and I was confident it would get us that name and address we so desperately needed. I dialed Lutz’s phone as we walked to the cruiser.
“Did you find the last two guys at home?” he asked as soon as he answered.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter. Frank and I are just leaving a bodega at North Ashland and West North Avenue.”
“Why the heck are you there?”
“It was one of the drop-off locations, and once I realized how close it was to Wicker Park, we had to check it out.”
“And?”
“And we caught him getting out of a silver Rav4. It was the same guy we have the still shot and video of at Wicker Park with Tom. Boss, we finally have him with his head uncovered.”
“Yeah? Tell me what I want to hear.”
“We got him—and the guy was bald. I’m pretty sure that should get us the warrant we need to find out his name and where he lives.”
“Nice work, McCord, and I’ll put a rush on that warrant. We’re going to have that son of a bitch in custody before the end of the day.”
I snickered with satisfaction. “Yep, that’s the plan.”
Chapter 39
Carl sucked in a sigh of relief. He had gotten out of Wood County without incident. He still had three counties to pass through before he entered Ashland County, but even then, he’d have a good distance to go before reaching the cabin. Glancing at the van’s gas gauge, Carl saw he’d have to fill up the vehicle. He was thankful that he’d thought ahead and brought those gas cans. After noticing a dirt road to his right, he slammed on his brakes and backed up. As overgrown as the area looked, and with the path riddled with potholes, Carl was sure he could safely fill up the tank there. He turned in and drove until he found an area wide enough for him to make a Y-turn and face the road. With that done, he exited the van and opened the rear doors. He thought of tossing Allen out right there, but he’d have to unload the vehicle to get to the body.
He’ll have to wait until I reach the cabin. I’ll bury him next to the woman’s body at the tool shed.
Carl pulled out the red gas can that he’d used earlier and emptied it into the tank. Back at the driver’s side, he turned the key and watched as the indicator rose to the half-full mark.
Still not enough.
He returned to the back of the van, opened the second can, and poured all of that one into the tank. Checking one more time, he saw that the gauge was near the full mark. Satisfied, he put the empty cans in the van and closed the rear doors. Back on the road, he continued north through Marathon County with two and a half hours ahead of him before reaching safety. As long as there weren’t any more interruptions, at two o’clock, he’d pull into that long and likely overgrown driveway on his grandfather’s property.
Chapter 40
Back at the station, Lutz said the warrant should be in our hands by midafternoon.
I raked my hair in disappointment. “Why the delay?”
“Red tape, just like always.”
I sighed. “Okay, I need to print out the image of the guy exiting the rideshare vehicle and then have Cassidy take a look at it. Hopefully, by the time we’re done with that, the warrant will be here.”
Lutz gave us a nod. “Go ahead and leave.”
I emailed the footage to Todd then gave him a call. “Hey, buddy, I just emailed you a video and need you to print out the clearest photo you can of the man stepping out of the silver Rav4. I’ll be down in a few minutes to pick it up.” I hung up and tipped my chin at Frank. “Ready to go?”
“Yep, but we better call Cassidy’s grandparents first to make sure they’re home.”
“I’ll do that downstairs.”
We headed down the back staircase to our lower level, where it appeared that Todd was enhancing the still shot he’d taken from the video. While we waited, I made the call to the Carter home. The phone rang twice in my ear, then Cassidy’s grandmother, Rita, answered.
“Mrs. Carter, this is Detective McCord. I’m wondering if my partner and I can stop by in a half hour. We have a photo to show Cassidy.” I gave Frank a thumbs-up as she spoke. “Okay, thank you, and we’ll see you soon.” I joined Frank as he watched Todd do his technical magic. “Rita Carter said it’s fine to stop in.”
Minutes later, and with a crystal-clear five-by-seven-inch photo in a cardboard sleeve, I thanked Todd, and we were on our way.
We reached the Carter house shortly after noon, and George invited us in.
“It’s good to see you again, Detectives. Right this way.”
We found Cassidy waiting for us at the kitchen table. She gave us a smile of recognition when we entered the room.
Frank and I were offered chairs across from her, and her grandparents sat at her side.
I took the lead simply because I’d spent more time with Cassidy and she knew me better than she did Frank. “Cassidy, I have a picture of a man who may or may not be the same man that you saw heading into the woods.”
“You mean after he killed my family?”
I gave her a thoughtful nod. “Sorry, kiddo, but yes, that’s what I mean. I remember you saying you’d only seen him from the back, and that’s okay, but I’d like your opinion, anyway. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Rita gave Cassidy’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
I opened the cardboard sleeve, pulled out the photograph, and pushed it across the table to her. “Take your time. There’s no rush.” I watched her expression as she stared at the man.
“He’s bald and is wearing the same kind of jacket that man at my house had on.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Uh-huh.”
“I guess it’s him.”
“But you can’t tell for sure because you didn’t see his face?”
She nodded.
“Do you remember seeing anything special about the jacket?”
“No, I was too scared. After I heard the back door close, it was only a few seconds that I saw him before he disappeared into the woods.”
“Sure, and that’s okay. Do you think he seems similar to the man you saw?”
“Yes, because he’s about the same size Lucas was.”
“That’s very helpful, Cassidy. So how are you doing?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“That’s good. We’re going to spend a few minutes talking to your grandparents outside, all right?”
She gave me another nod.
“Take care, Cassidy.”
We stood, and I scooped up the photo. After walking out, Frank and I spoke to George and Rita on the porch.
“How is the investigation going, Detectives? Do you have that man in the photo in custody? Is he the killer?”
“There’s a good possibility that he is, and we’re waiting on a warrant. We’ll know more this afternoon, and we’ll definitely keep you informed.”
Rita thanked us then tipped her head toward the house. “It’s been really tough for Cassidy. The funerals are coming up in a few days, and I know she’s dreading them.”
Frank spoke up. “We’re so sorry your family is grieving and has to go through this. We do have names of counselors who are available, especially for the youth. I can send you some recommendations.”
“And we’d really appreciate that, Detective Mills,” George said.
We offered our condolences one more time, shook their hands, and left. I hoped that by the time we arrived at the precinct, our wait would be over. I wanted that man in custody as soon as humanly possible.
Chapter 41
Hours had passed, and finally, at two forty-five, Carl turned in to the gravel driveway at the cabin. He nearly missed it. Without a mailbox and considering the height of the weeds that had taken over the entrance, the driveway was difficult to see. As he made his way toward the cabin, he heard the weeds scrape against the bottom of the van. He inched ahead, and every pothole he hit jarred the vehicle. Within a few minutes, he reached the log building. After making a wide turn, Carl backed up the van as close as possible to the porch. Unloading the vehicle would be much easier by opening the rear double doors and carrying the supplies right into the cabin. He would reach Allen’s body soon enough, then he’d have to deal with burying it. In an hour or so, he’d put the shovel in the tool shed to good use, but first, he needed to start the generator and fill the refrigerator with food from the cooler.
Carl found the key on his ring of five and unlocked the front door. Inside, the cabin was cold but stuffy. He propped open the door while he brought in the supplies and aired out the building naturally—no need to open windows. He filled the generator with gas and started it. Using one of the many extension cords stored in a closet, he plugged the refrigerator into the generator and emptied the cooler of its contents. He took boxes of food, suitcases of clothes, and bags of important papers into the house. Once everything was in its place, Carl returned to the van and stared at the body lying on the floor.
Groaning his displeasure, he slammed the back doors and headed down the path to the tool shed a hundred feet away. A different key on his ring opened the padlock securing the doors. The shed, a prebuilt twelve-by-twelve-foot building, had a fish-cleaning counter against the left wall. On the opposite wall hung a variety of yard tools, and the back wall held household tools. A wheelbarrow and a gas-powered push mower filled the floor space. Carl lifted the shovel off the wall hook and walked out back behind the shed. He looked at the spot where he remembered burying the woman three years earlier. Thankfully, it appeared untouched. He stepped three feet to the right and stabbed the ground with the spade’s head. It would take several hours to dig a hole large enough to slide Allen into. The hole had to be deep enough so the wild animals wouldn’t catch a whiff of decay, dig up the bones, and possibly spread them in an area where a neighboring homeowner might see them.
He needed to complete his chore before the sun fell beneath the horizon. Tipping his wrist, he checked the time—4:07. Carl needed to step up his pace. He dug a hole five feet long and three feet wide. He was sure Allen wouldn’t mind being folded like a pretzel in his final resting place. Carl’s only concern was that the void be deep enough so the scent of decay couldn’t be detected. With the mound of dirt growing at his side, he pushed on until the hole was three feet deep. If necessary, he would lay logs over the spot, assuring that the animals would leave things be. It was creeping up on six o’clock by the time he finished digging, and daylight was disappearing fast. He pulled the wheelbarrow out of the shed and headed to the van with it. After opening the back doors and lining up the wheelbarrow, Carl grabbed Allen’s ankles and pulled. A loud thunk sounded when Allen’s body hit the metal bottom of the wheelbarrow.
Son of a bitch, he’s stiff. How the hell am I going to bend him at the knees?
Disgusted by the thought, Carl knew he would have to break Allen’s limbs to jam him into the hole. Placing the body face down on the ground, Carl grabbed a leg and bent it backward until he heard a pop. He did the same with the other leg then rolled Allen into the makeshift grave.
“The things I have to do to save my own ass.”
With the shovel in hand, he filled the hole until the mound of dirt was nearly gone. Carl stomped the grave to pack it down then shoveled the remaining dirt on top. Using the back of the shovel, he smacked the ground until it looked completely flat.
There. Now to hide it so the coyotes don’t try to dig it up.
Carl grabbed three old pallets he’d meant to use as campfire wood and placed them on top of the fresh dirt. He slapped his hands together, wiped them on his pants, and headed for the cabin. A cold beer, dinner, and a good night’s sleep were in order.
Chapter 42
After tracking down the judge hours earlier, Lutz had finally received the warrant for the rideshare company, and we rushed to their local dispatch office. Hesitating yet without a choice, they gave us the information we needed—the name and address of the person who used their credit card to order last night’s eleven thirty pickup at the intersection of West Diversey and North Mozart.
With the information in hand, we had to organize the approach and takedown, and we had to do it fast. Frank and I headed out in one cruiser, Kip and Tony in another, and Lutz said he’d meet us there. Four squad cars and as many officers set up a perimeter around the residence. The home was less than a mile from Wicker Park, and in my gut, I knew we had the right place. We parked a half block away, cordoned off the street, and moved in. With the house surrounded, I nodded to the officer holding the ram. Carl Lyndon would be in custody within seconds.
On my go, the officer swung the ram and smashed in the door. Bursting through, we shouted out that we were the Chicago police, but the house was silent. With guns drawn, we searched each room and quickly realized that the home had been vacated. I was outraged to see that the items that could have been used as evidence had been removed from the home. File cabinets had been emptied, closets and cabinets had been cleared, and we didn’t see a computer or a phone anywhere. There wasn’t even mail lying around.
“Son of a bitch, he’s gone, and everything that could have been a lead left with him.” I waved my hand above my head. “Tear this place apart. Search every nook and cranny twice.” I jerked my chin at Frank. “I need some air. I have to update Lutz, too, and tell him there’s no reason for him to come.” I stepped over the broken door and stood on the porch. Frank followed at my back and popped a piece of nicotine gum in his mouth. I hadn’t seen him smoke in weeks and was proud of his effort to quit. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I sucked in a deep breath, called our commander, and tapped Speakerphone. “Boss, it’s Jesse, and the house is empty. That snake slithered away before we got here.”
“How could he have known we were coming?”
I paced on the porch. “Maybe he didn’t. It could have been dumb luck and perfect timing on his part, but right now, I have officers going from room to room, trying to find clues as to where he went. We don’t even know what kind of vehicle he drives yet, so—”
Lutz interrupted. “Give me his name and address. I’ll pull up his driver’s license and find out, then I’ll take care of issuing a nationwide BOLO. You and Frank start talking to the neighbors. Maybe somebody in the area knows his friends, relatives, and so on. Keep me updated.”
“Will do.” I hung up and told Frank that we were tasked to interview the people in the neighborhood.
We started at the house directly to the left of the Lyndon home. Frank clacked the doorknocker, and we pulled out our badges as we waited. Seconds later, a young woman peeked out of a four-inch opening.
“Can I help you?”
Frank took the lead. “Yes, we’re Detectives Mills and McCord from the Chicago Police Department. We’re wondering how well you know your next-door neighbor, Carl Lyndon.”
