Chapter 9

Hailey exhaled heavily as she closed and locked the front door. She was back safely in the apartment. She proceeded to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and guzzled half of it. As she stood there, her eyes fell on the grid calendar. The last few days had been so hectic with the Freeman case that she'd forgotten to mark off the days. She picked up the red Sharpie and did that now.

Three more days down. Time marches on.

Somehow, that trite expression did nothing to ease her loneliness. She also noted that they had now entered the fourth month of Jay's deployment. Almost half through. That should make me feel better, right? Why doesn't it?

Finishing the water, she pitched the bottle in the recycling bin in the corner and went over to sit on the couch. She turned on the TV for the late news. Maybe there's something about the wreck.

A reporter stood in the big box store parking lot. Behind her the fire had been extinguished, but emergency vehicles and personnel lingered.

"Police say a grocery store and then a liquor store in Chinatown were robbed between 11 and 11:45 this evening. Witnesses report an unmarked white van fleeing the area after exchanging gunfire with security guards at the liquor store. One guard was shot in the leg and transported to a nearby hospital in stable condition. Witnesses at this location say the driver of the charred white van behind me fled on foot before police arrived. We will bring you updates as they become available. Back to you in the studio."

A sports recap came on and Hailey turned off the TV. She massaged her forehead, then undid the messy bun and ran her hands through her hair. Should I have stayed and talked to the officers? Maybe that van wasn't following me at all. Maybe it was from the robbery. It'll be hard to know since there are literally hundreds of white vans in the greater Chicago area.

Her thoughts returned to the creepy emails. Am I being paranoid? Tonight's incident and the emails could be two totally unrelated things. She thought back over the last few months to male suspects she had arrested and/or interrogated. Any one of them might be pissed off enough to try to intimidate her. Good luck with that, asshole.

More than likely the sender was male, but she couldn't be sure. Female suspects could be equally pissed off and vindictive. Not to mention sneaky about hiding their identity.

Wish Mouse was still working with us. He could get to the bottom of it.

Thoughts of Mouse invariably led to thoughts of Jay. Is he asleep now? Is he out on a raid? Is he okay? Is he thinking of me? She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Go to bed, Hailey. There's plenty of time tomorrow to revisit this.

But one thing became clear to her: If the emails continued or any more strange things happened, she would have to loop Voight and the team in. It could be the difference between life and death.

The apartment lights went out. The man waited in the shadows to get a feel for the neighborhood. Traffic was light on the surrounding streets. A couple neighbors came out to let dogs do their business, but then scurried back inside. Overall, there was nothing to cause alarm.

After 10 minutes, the man was satisfied that the cop had retired for the night. He cranked the engine of the old Toyota and slowly drove away. Only when he reached the main street did he turn on his headlights.

"Dante, is that you?"

"No, mamá. It is a burglar," said Dante with an eyeroll. No matter how quiet he tried to be, his mamá heard every little squeak and scrape in the old house. "Why aren't you in bed?"

Mrs. Torres padded into the hall. She was clad in pajamas and a robe. "I fell asleep watching an old movie. A Clint Eastwood western."

"Ah," Dante nodded. "I know how you like those old ones." There was a beat of silence. "Thanks for letting me borrow your car."

"De nada. Your assignment tonight . . . it was successful?"

"Sí."

Mrs. Torres waited. As she expected, no more information was forthcoming. She knew better than to pry into cop business. "Very well. We both should go to bed now."

Dante leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "Sí, mamá."

Mrs. Torres turned and headed for her bedroom. Dante went in the kitchen and drank of glass of orange juice. He had taken it upon himself to keep an eye on Hailey, hopefully without her realizing it. She knew about his bike; she didn't know what kind of car his mother drove. He couldn't use the car every night. Eventually, it could attract attention from nosy neighbors. They might fear a drug or weapons deal going down.

No one asked him to do this. Not Jay. Not Voight. It just seemed like the right thing to do. In the last week, he sensed she was troubled by something more than Jay's long absence.

He thought back over the Freeman case. That was successfully wrapped up. No new cases had come in yet. She and Voight had not had any more loud "discussions." At least not while he was in earshot.

Dante yawned. I'll figure it out. Maybe I'll get her to confide in me.