Set the Night on Fire (25 page)

S
omething was wrong. The babies weren’t due for six weeks. Alix shouldn’t be going into labor. And while Casey knew nothing about childbirth, he didn’t think it was supposed to be this painful so soon. But Alix kept crying and complaining of sharp pains. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, and she was bleeding.

They debated calling an ambulance, then decided to take her to the ER themselves. While Rain went downstairs to hail a cab, Casey dragged the mattress Billy had used out of the closet. When Rain came back up, they put Alix on it and slid it carefully down the stairs like a toboggan. The cab driver helped get her inside. They left the mattress on the sidewalk.

The closest hospital was Fullerton, but Casey told the driver to head to Northwestern. By the time they arrived, Alix was barely conscious. The ER attendants rushed her inside. Casey and Rain went to the waiting room.

Twenty minutes later, a young man in surgical scrubs came into the waiting room. “Who’s here for Alixandra Kerr?”

Both Casey and Rain jumped up. The man spoke to Casey. “Are you her husband?”

“Why?”

“I’m the resident on duty. We took her up to the OR. She’s presenting with placenta previa.”

“What’s that?”

“The placenta, which usually attaches itself to the inside of the uterus along the side or back wall, is attached over her cervical opening instead. It wasn’t a problem until she went into labor. It’s preventing the fetus—in this case, fetuses—from passing into the birth canal. But now it’s starting to rupture, which is why she has such severe pain.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Usually, we’d do an emergency Caesarean, but she’s hemorrhaging badly, and she’s in shock. The doctor isn’t sure her body can take it.”

Casey’s skin felt damp. “What happens if you don’t?”

“They could all die. The fetuses . . . and the mother.” The intern paused. “The fetuses are still quite immature.”

Rain grabbed Casey’s hand. He barely felt it.

“The surgeon wants you to know that we’re going to do our best. You’re her husband right?”

Casey felt Rain watching him, reading his thoughts. He took a breath. “Yes.”

“Well, you might want to call another family member. Someone should be here. In case.” 

* *

By six o’clock that evening the babies and Alix were in intensive care, and the doctors were cautiously optimistic. The babies, still quite small and premature, would have to remain in the hospital for a month at least, but they were breathing on their own, which everyone considered a good sign. Alix was young and strong and would bounce back quickly.

Casey came to the hospital every day, sometimes twice a day, to check on Alix and the twins. He hung around the nursery so much that the nursing staff taught him how to give the babies a bottle and burp them.

Alix was released ten days later. She was still weak but forced herself to come back to the hospital every day to feed the twins. After the fifth day she returned to the apartment exhausted.

“This is more than I can handle,” she said. “I need help.”

“I’m here,” Casey said.

“I know.” Alix gave him a sad smile. “And I’ll always be grateful to you, Casey. But you have your whole life ahead of you. You can’t help me forever.”

Casey kept his mouth shut. She should only know.

“It shouldn’t be you, anyway.”

He sighed. “Alix,” he said gently. “Stop dreaming. Dar’s gone.”

“I don’t know about that.” Her smile grew hopeful. “If I put it out there in the universe, it could happen. If I believe hard enough.”

* *

A few weeks later, on the night of June 2
^nd
, the doorbell rang. It was past eleven, and Alix was already in bed. Rain was out with her latest boyfriend. When Casey opened the door, he stepped back in surprise. It was Dar. Looking haggard, disheveled, and drawn.

“What are you doing here, man?”

“I want to see them.”

“They’re not here.”

“Why not?”

“They were premature. They’re still in the hospital.”

“Is Alix okay?”

“She’s fine. She’s asleep.”

Dar nodded and turned toward the door of the room he and Alix had shared.

“Dar, the FBI was here. They’re looking for you. All over Chicago. You need to split. Right away.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Casey.”

Casey spread his palms. “Dar . . . ”

“I know you’re in love with her. I know you want her for yourself, okay? But don’t tell me I can’t see my children. Or their mother. Ever.”

Casey threw up his hands. “Fine. You’re on your own, Dar. I’m out of here.”

He grabbed a jacket, opened the door, and clattered down the stairs. When he got back an hour later, everything in the apartment was quiet. He thought about looking in on Alix, but he didn’t want to know if Dar was still there. He went to bed.

O
n the morning of June 3
^rd
—a warm, summery day that made people think about ditching work and heading up to Wrigley Field—Chicago woke up to the news that a bomb had exploded in the early morning hours at Kerr’s department store on State Street. Most of the devastation occurred on the first floor. The ceiling of the lobby collapsed, columns leaned at strange angles, glass counters shattered. A blackish residue of soot covered everything, and clumps of dark matter were splattered on the walls. Fortunately, the store was thought to be empty, and there appeared to be no injuries.

According to the news reports, teams of investigators from the Chicago Police Department’s Bomb and Arson squad, the FBI, and the ATF moved in immediately, setting up huge arc lights so they could work. By daylight they’d found pieces of metal near the loading dock that turned out to have come from the engine mount of a vehicle. An hour later, the parts were traced to a VW van that had been stolen three days before in Madison, Wisconsin. They hadn’t found the VIN from the door frame, but the number was duplicated on the engine mount.

Investigators set up a perimeter so they could continue working without interference. Extra shifts of police were called in to control the mass of people who thronged to downtown to bear witness to a small piece of history. Hot dog and ice-cream vendors wound through the crowd.

After most of the debris was hauled away, investigators discovered a shallow crater in the alley next to the loading dock, evidence the blast had occurred there. A residue of organic material was found on the exterior walls, raising the possibility that an agricultural fertilizer may have been the explosive.

A reward of one hundred thousand dollars was offered for information leading to the arrest of the offenders.

* *

Rain heard about the bomb on her way to
The Seed
later that morning. She’d spent the night at her boyfriend’s but rushed back to the apartment. It was quiet inside; Casey and Alix must still be asleep. She woke Casey. “We have to go to Bobby’s.”

“Why?” Casey asked sleepily.

“A bomb went off at Kerr’s department store last night.”

Casey sat up.

“It’s bad, Casey,” Rain said. “They totaled the store. I’ll wake Alix.”

“Okay.” He got out of bed and threw on some clothes.

Rain came back a moment later. “Where’s Alix?”

“What do you mean?

“She’s not in her room. Did she go to the hospital to feed the babies?”

Casey ran a hand through his hair. “I . . . I don’t know.”

Rain planted a hand on her hip. “Earth to Casey. What did she tell you before she went to bed?”

A queasy feeling spread through Casey’s gut.

“What’s wrong?”

He grimaced. “Dar was here last night.”

Rain’s eyes grew as wide as plates. “What?”

“Around eleven. He said he wanted to see the twins. Then he went into her room. I . . . I didn’t want to hang around, so I went out for a beer.”

“What happened when you got back?”

“I don’t know.” He couldn’t meet Rain’s eyes. “I went straight to bed.”

“So you don’t know if she—or Dar—was still here.”

“I . . . I guess not.”

“Oh shit, Casey. I don’t like this.” Rain blew out a breath. “Finish dressing. Fast. We gotta go.”

As soon as they got to Bobby’s, Rain and Casey glued themselves to the TV. Coverage was continuous, and Bobby closed the head shop so he could watch with them. He even brought breakfast in from the diner on Wells.

The TV commentators reported that Sebastian Kerr was on his way to Chicago to personally assist in the clean-up and investigation. By afternoon the experts on TV began to speculate that the bomb was made from ANFO, a mixture of ammonium nitrate and fuel oil, long used by farmers instead of dynamite to blow up stumps and clear ponds. One man said the enormity of the blast indicated that as much as twenty-five hundred pounds of fertilizer could have been used. Someone else said an additional element could have been mixed in to strengthen the blast—nitromethane, for example. All the materials were cheap—fifty pounds of ammonium nitrate only cost a couple of dollars—and widely available.

Most of the bomb, the theory went, was assembled in barrels, then driven to Chicago in the stolen van. The van was parked near the loading dock of the store, probably sometime after midnight. Once it was in place, the nitromethane was added. Then the detonator, blasting cap, and primacord were rigged up.

Casey and Rain exchanged glances. Rain beckoned him into the kitchen.

“The FBI,” she whispered. “That’s what they were talking about, remember?”

Casey nodded.

“I don’t like where this is going, Casey. Do you think Dar and Payton and Teddy . . . ”

“No,” Casey cut her off. “I can’t believe that. Alix would never approve of it, either.”

“Well then, where the fuck is she?” Rain asked.

Casey didn’t have an answer.

They went back into the living room. The anchorman on TV was interviewing a Bomb and Arson official when the station interrupted with a special bulletin. The news show cut to a reporter on the scene looking somber. “There has been a grisly discovery among the debris at Kerr’s department store. It was thought at first that the blast, which occurred between midnight and two o’clock this morning, did not cause any injuries. Sadly, it is now clear that this was not the case. The bodies of two men were found near the guard’s station in the lobby. A third individual was found near the loading dock. It appears to be a female. She has been transported to Northwestern Memorial hospital in critical condition.”

Casey’s throat went dry. “Do you think . . . ”

“We better find out,” Rain said.

As they tore out of Bobby’s, Casey heard the announcer grimly say, “It would seem, ladies and gentlemen, that what was a frightening destruction of property is now—at least—a double homicide.”

* *

Neither Rain nor Casey said a word on the way to the hospital. Rain bought a copy of the
Daily News
and read it in the cab. It was the only time Casey had ever seen her read an establishment paper.

“What do you think?” Casey asked.

“The same thing as you,” Rain said from behind the paper.

“It had to be an accident. Dar would never kill anyone.”

Rain put the paper down. “What planet are you from?”

“Where do you think they got it?” Casey asked.

“There are plenty of places near Madison.”

Casey thought about it. “It must have been when Payton and Teddy made that trip up to Wisconsin. Remember? The one where they wanted Dar to go with them?”

Rain put a finger to her lips. And motioned to the cab driver.

Casey stopped talking.

A minute later, though, she whispered, “Why the fuck did they make Kerr’s the target? There are a lot of other places they could have chosen to make a statement.”

Casey looked at her sideways. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“She would never have let them.” Rain tightened her lips.

“What makes you think she had a choice?”

* *

When they got to the ER, they discovered that the unidentified woman from the bomb site had been taken into surgery. They approached a uniformed nurse behind the desk. Rain cleared her throat.

“Look, we think . . . well, we may have an idea who the woman is.”

The nurse cocked her head. “Who?”

Rain swallowed. “Our roommate. Alix Kerr.”

The woman did a double take at the name, then picked up her phone.

Rain went to a seat and continued thumbing through the newspaper, but Casey knew she wasn’t reading. He started to pace.

A few minutes later two men, one beefy, one skinny, hurried into the waiting room. After checking with the nurse, they came over. One held up a badge. “I’m Detective Rizzo, Chicago police. Tell me why you think the woman is Alixandra Kerr.”

Casey watched the cops study him. He was wearing jeans and his sleeveless vest. Rain was in a granny dress. They clearly looked like hippies. Hippies and cops didn’t mix. Casey wasn’t surprised by his next statement.

“Listen, we’re not playing games. If you don’t play ball, we can charge you with obstruction of justice.”

Casey and Rain were taken to an empty room where they told the police everything, including their visit from the FBI. After repeating the chronology several times, Casey asked, “How is she? Can we see her? Is she going to be all right?”

The detectives looked startled. “I thought you knew,” Rizzo said. “The victim died in surgery. She’s gone.”