Hot Trick (A Detective Shelley Caldwell Novel) (15 page)

“I almost saved him,” I told Norelli after he arrived on the scene right behind the case supervisor and CSI team.

I’d parked myself in the Winter Garden, watching the medics zip up one of the black body bags. I couldn’t bear to go closer again, but neither could I take my gaze from the proceedings. I should have stopped this from happening. I should have done something different. I should have—
would have
—had I known.

“I did keep him from going off the roof. He was trying to help me…”

“Hey, you can’t blame yourself. You were doing your job. This wasn’t your fault.”

Consolation from Norelli. Great. I swallowed hard, feeling like a pitiful excuse for a cop. I was having a hard time convincing myself that he was right, that it wasn’t my fault.

Why couldn’t I believe it?

“Start from the beginning,” he said.

“I told you I got a tip and was going to stake out the place.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going to do it from the roof.”

“Plans go awry,” I said, as if I hadn’t meant to be on that roof all along. “I was up there, checking things out and one of the security guards must have locked the door.” That much was true.

“Why didn’t you call someone?”

“Do you always get a signal when you want one?” I asked evasively.

“But you called in backup afterward.”

“Because then my phone was working.” So far, no lies. Not exactly. Just the part of the truth a single-minded cop could accept. No way was Norelli getting on the supernatural bandwagon. “Besides, a security guard showed up just before the victim tackled our local gangbanger from behind.”

“So there’s a witness to back up your story. Good. That’ll simplify things.”

I hoped. “He wasn’t working alone. Tattoo Boy was up there too.”

“What did he do? Fly away?”

For a moment words stuck in my throat. That’s exactly what I’d imagined had happened. Again, a fact I couldn’t share with Norelli.

“He must have rappelled down—you know, used ropes like a mountain climber.” I didn’t know for sure that wasn’t true. “The same way they got up on the roof. I found the rigging on the El side of the building.” I wondered if perhaps he’d merely dropped as far as the rapid transit elevated structure then disappeared on a train.

“Do we have an ID on the victim?” Norelli asked.

I could hardly breathe when I said, “Alan Forrest.”

“Forrest. Now why does that sound familiar?”

“Before they realized I was there, Tattoo Boy and his buddy were a little talky. Apparently the victim’s brother is a prosecutor.”

“As in Matthew Forrest?” Norelli sounded nearly as shocked as I’d felt when I’d figured it out.

“As far as I know, he would be the one.”

“Matthew Forrest was the prosecutor on the—”

“Hernandez case,” I finished for him. “Which means the two murders are connected. First the sister of the judge is murdered. Followed by the brother of the prosecutor.”

Who was next? I wondered, already convinced the murders weren’t going to stop here.

Norelli swore under his breath. “Both related to one case gone bad. The Martin woman’s death was similar to Sebastian’s escape, but now the Forrest guy gets it in the same location as the latest performance. Talk about an escalating heater.”

“The pressure is going to be on us to solve this, all right, and before it happens again.”

“On me, you mean,” Norelli clarified. “They’re probably gonna stick you at a desk doing paperwork until you get clearance.”

“They can’t do that. I have a witness.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see.” Norelli was pacing as though that made him think more clearly. “A murderer who hates Sebastian has an agenda that includes nailing him.”

If Sebastian wasn’t behind it all. I hadn’t thought so before, but now I wasn’t so sure.

“Right, a copycat,” I said absently.

“That Edmund Fox.”

“Edmund Fox was here tonight. I saw him.”

“How did he even know about the event?”

“Interesting question. Here’s another one—does he have an in with someone close to Sebastian?”

“You get back to the station and start that paperwork. I’ll take over here.”

Great. Paperwork. Every cop’s favorite activity. There was going to be a lot of paperwork involved in this one. My report would include every connection I could think of.

Well, every one I could mention without being turned back into a rubber-gun officer.

I didn’t want to leave the murder scene, but I didn’t have a choice. The two cases were connected, which meant Norelli was rightfully in charge. I couldn’t let myself be taken off the case, though. I had to get that clearance and fast.

On the drive back to the office, I let my mind wander over the sequence of events and the possible suspects. The location was damning…still, I didn’t want to think Sebastian was the murderer.

But he was a magician. A real one. At least I thought so. I couldn’t help but hold out hope that I was wrong and the world hadn’t gone crazy on me.

If not…why would a self-professed banshee tell me about the murders?

Once I finished the reams of paperwork ahead of me, Casey Brogan and I needed to talk. We were going to become best buds until this case was solved to my satisfaction. If I found out he’d been jamming me up, I’d have his butt in a sling so fast it would make his little banshee head swim.

I was just finishing up the report when Norelli walked into the office and stopped at my desk.

“Bobby Rafferty wants to see us both. Now.”

“Before dawn? How did he even get a bead on what’s going on?”

“When you’re a judge with clout, you get whatever you want.”

I supposed that was true.

So I soon found myself riding shotgun for Norelli again.

“I gave Forrest’s family the bad news,” he said. “My least favorite part of the job. Jeez, his wife collapsed. And he had three little kids…” Norelli cursed under his breath.

“That had to be tough. I assume she had no clue that he was in trouble?”

“Nope. She thought he was working late and went to bed. I got a team ready to knock on doors and question the neighbors as soon as the sun comes up. I’ll get back to Mrs. Forrest later when the sedative they had to give her wears off.”

A bubble of guilt that I couldn’t save the widow this grief settled in my chest. If only I had nailed the bastard after the first murder…

Judge Bobby Rafferty lived on the northwest side of Chicago, across from the forest preserves. His home was a neat two-story brick set back on a double lot. Though he had a garage, two cars sat in the drive.

One of them was Mom’s.

Great. What the heck was she doing here?

I put on my game face and entered the house behind Norelli. If he thought anything of Mom sitting in the judge’s masculine leather and dark wood living room, a mug of coffee in her hand, he didn’t react.

The judge gave me a once over and I returned the favor. Rafferty was an attractive man for someone who looked to be approaching sixty, fit, tall and broad-shouldered. The silver wings in his dark hair and the few lines seaming his face made him look distinguished rather than old.

Norelli made the introductions. “Judge Rafferty. I’m Detective Mike Norelli and this is Detective Shelley Caldwell.”

“I’m acquainted with Detective Caldwell,” Rafferty said.

Though I didn’t like the tone of his voice, I tried not to show it. “Judge.” I nodded at him and then at Mom. “Commander.”

“Detective.”

Mom’s voice was clipped, her expression worried, making my gut cramp. I felt like I’d swallowed a rock.

“Take a seat,” Rafferty commanded, and as we did so, he said, “I hear there’s an interesting development related to my sister’s murder.”

Though the judge was looking at me, Norelli took the lead. “Yes, sir. Another victim connected to a Sebastian Cole escape. The brother of the prosecuting attorney on the Rivera murder, so the two murders are tied together.”

Rafferty never took his eyes off me. “I understand you had prior knowledge that this was going to happen.”

“I got information from an informant, yes,” I admitted. “Not who, just where and when. Well, approximately. The information was vague.”

“But you acted on it. Why?”

I could feel my pulse beating in my throat. “Because this wasn’t the first head’s up the guy gave me.” I took a big breath. “He gave me information about the first murder as well.”

Rafferty’s voice went cold. “You’re talking about my sister’s death?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you act on it?”

The tension in the room became palpable. All eyes were on me. Great. I’d learned to juggle fast but I hadn’t been under such close scrutiny before. Well, except from Mom. Her eagle eye was never off me, no matter how good my work was.

“Not enough information,” I told him. “And I didn’t know this guy. He came out of nowhere, approached me in the parking lot. I thought he was one of the full moon crazies.”

“Why?”

Seconds ticked by before I answered. “He had nothing to support his story. He simply claimed to be a banshee who could predict deaths.”

“A banshee,” Rafferty echoed. “I suppose that’s a good enough job description for an informant who correctly warns you someone is about to die!”

My pulse surged. The judge blamed me? Mom too? I didn’t dare look at her. As long as Rafferty had eyes on me, I wouldn’t look away. I had no reason to. I was a good cop, a good detective. I would do whatever it took to nail an offender. But I wasn’t psychic.

Okay, maybe a little, just not in a way that would help me stop a murder before it happened. I’d tried that hours ago and look where it had gotten me. The victim still died, even if not exactly the way his murderers had intended.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Judge. I want you to know that as a homicide detective, I take murder very personally. Unfortunately, I couldn’t have stopped your sister from dying. All my informant told me was that someone was tied up in a trunk and that he saw water.”

“Did you try to get anything more from him?”

“I did but he was so very vague. There was no way I could have known where the murder would happen.”

“But obviously you got that much the second time.”

“Just a reference to tall buildings and winged creatures. When I learned that Sebastian was performing an escape at the library, I realized the winged creatures had to be the owls on the roof.”

“So why didn’t you call for backup?”

“I did. I had them looking for a suspicious security guard. They never found him. And Sebastian’s escape went off without a hitch.”

“But when everyone else left, you stayed behind.”

“I just had this feeling…”

Rafferty finally dropped his gaze and I felt like a balloon with the air let out until he said, “You know, Internal Affairs should take you off the case.”

The pressure rebuilt and doubled. I didn’t agree but I bit my tongue. No use reasoning with grief.

I glanced at Mom, who wore her game face. She hadn’t said a word yet. No doubt her opinion was right there with her friend, the judge.

“I’m going to make certain you remain on the case,” Rafferty said, surprising me. “Obviously you have a source who can help lead us to the murderer.” He looked from me to Norelli. “I want this solved, Detectives.”

Brought back into the loop, Norelli said, “That’s what I’m planning to do, Judge. The bastard who got to your sister isn’t going to walk on my watch.”

Nice. He’d managed to squeeze me out. I took the crap and he was looking for the credit.

“This is one case that had better get solved,” Rafferty threatened. “Because if it doesn’t, you’ll be finished with the CPD.”

His gaze bored into me when he said the last.

No pressure…

Rafferty turned to Norelli. “I understand Julie’s murder is actually your case.” When Norelli nodded, the judge said, “I want you to run me through everything you know so far. Let’s go into the kitchen. I need a cup of coffee.”

Norelli went, leaving me with Mom. I wanted to ask what she was doing here, but I wasn’t going to be the first to break the silence between us. The seconds ticked away and for a moment, I forgot to breathe. I loved my mother and knew she loved me, but she held me to higher standards than any copper on the force.

Finally, she murmured, “So it’s a banshee, is it?”

Of all the things she could have said, that wouldn’t have been my first guess. “Casey Brogan. That’s what he called himself.”

“Brogan.” Mom frowned. “The name’s familiar. Do you believe him?”

Whoa. She wasn’t telling me I was crazy. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re even more like your father than I ever guessed.”

“I’m like Dad?” Silke never stopped telling me how much I was like Mom. “Brogan said Dad would have believed him.”

“What?”

“He came to me because he said I was a sensitive.”

Mom shook her head. “I hoped it was just your sister…”

Hoped? “Silke’s not like any of us,” I said, digesting her acceptance of banshees and sensitives. “She’s her own person.”

“You were young when your father died, so you don’t remember. Frank wasn’t very pragmatic for an officer of the law. He believed in things we couldn’t see, and I don’t simply mean things related to religion.” Mom sighed. “It’s what got him killed.”

My pulse jumped. “But he was killed on the job.”

“Exactly. Frank was chasing some fairy-tale lead, some creature he claimed was both man and beast, and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like you did tonight. What were you thinking, Shelley? How could you have gone on that roof and waited for murderers alone?”

“I was trying to save a life and I didn’t think anyone would believe my explanation.”

“Don’t be like your father—”

“Dad was a good cop!”

“Who died on the job because he wasn’t thinking straight.” Mom took a big breath. “You’ve always been so level-headed. Don’t let the dark side touch you like it did your father. Murder is a human vice of the blackest kind. Keep that in mind and don’t go chasing what you can’t see. I can’t lose another person I love to the job.”

I absorbed what she’d just told me. My father chasing a suspect who wasn’t exactly human. Dying in the process. And then there was her easy acceptance of Casey Brogan. She sounded like she believed what most people would say was unbelievable. My District Commander mother. Too much to take in.

“You’re not going to lose me,” I assured her.

Another round of silence.

Uncomfortable, I wished Rafferty and Norelli would come back into the room.

“Your father was psychic too, you know,” Mom said. “It’s not a twin thing, it’s a Caldwell thing. And your father’s death is why I discouraged you from developing it.”

I gaped at her. Of course Mom knew about Silke’s and my silent communication. She’d caught us at it often enough when we were kids. And tried talking us out of it every time. But she’d never, ever before told us we’d inherited the ability from Dad’s side of the family.

Had Brogan known the Caldwells were psychic? Damn, why hadn’t I been able to get the truth from the snitch? I wanted to squeeze it out of him by his scrawny neck.

The men chose that moment to return.

“Don’t worry, Judge,” Norelli said, shaking his hand. “We won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t.”

Rafferty nodded and opened the door. No handshake for me. No expression of faith. Just that look that made me feel like crud he’d scraped off his shoe.

He had to blame someone, I guess, and until we’d nailed the murderer, I was it.