Chapter 15
Hailey leaned against the kitchen island as she waited for the coffee maker to do its thing. Her eyes automatically drifted to the grid calendar on the fridge and the rows of red "Xs." They had entered the sixth month of Jay's deployment.
Only two more to go. Sixty days. We're almost there.
When the coffee was ready, Hailey filled her mug and slid onto a bar stool. She dropped cold cereal into a yogurt box because she'd forgotten to buy milk this week.
What happens when Jay returns? Will he re-claim his desk across from me? Do we go back to business as usual with Voight? Do we even want to?
In Jay's absence, she and Voight had worked well together. He sought her opinion in every situation and even when he decided another plan was better, he still respected her insights.
The questions were endless, but she had no answers. Nor time to consider them. Her phone dinged with a text from Dante: Be there in 10. He'd recently purchased an old truck and was driving them to work. It'll give you a break, he said.
She had no idea what he thought of her "crossing the line" confession that night at the bar. He'd acknowledged it with a quiet nod and said no more. But she was sure his brain was working overtime to determine which "line."
When the time is right, he'll probe some more.
She spooned up the last bit of yogurt, tossed the container and went to brush her teeth.
Dante's mind was also full of questions this morning.
When is our coma victim going to wake up? What if she doesn't?
Where's the missing girl? Is she still alive?
Then his brain switched to the equally troubling personal questions:
Should I get my own apartment? Would mamá be okay there by herself?
Everybody knew he was a cop and the neighbors generally looked out for each other.
Then there was the conversation with his mother at breakfast:
"You haven't mentioned Celia lately. Is everything okay? She seems like a nice girl."
Dante frowned. "Mamá, she was cheating on me. Besides, work keeps me plenty busy."
Mrs. Torres nodded. "You're spending a lot of time with that woman from work."
That woman from work. Dante sighed. "Hailey, uh, Detective Upton, is like my second boss, after Sergeant Voight. She's my training officer. Don't you want me to succeed in this job?"
"Of course, Dante." Mrs. Torres pursed her lips. "Is she pretty? Maybe you should bring her to dinner sometime."
"That's neither here nor there, mamá." He put on his jacket and kissed her cheek. "I need to go. Have a good day."
As he went out the door, he knew this discussion was not over. His mother meant well, but didn't always know when to quit.
It was barely noon and Sergei Zhurov was knocking back his third beer at this dive bar. His usual watering hole wasn't open yet and anyway, he wanted to sulk in the anonymity of this place.
He thought when he got out of prison his life would improve. Boy, was he wrong. His expensive lawyer said a new trial date would probably be set soon and the case wasn't looking good for Sergei. His ex-wife was making noises about more alimony. Hell, she's already bled me dry.
Then his cousin Dimitri threw him a birthday party, complete with hookers from his escort service. It sounded like a good idea until the girls decided they didn't want to play ball. Did they think they were there to serve punch and cookies? There was screaming, kicking and shoving as some guys forced them into the back bedrooms.
Now one was dead, one was in a coma and one was missing. If that wasn't bad enough, he'd had to listen to Dimitri complain over and over and over about his accountant ripping him off and vanishing.
"He took all my files, all the records, everything! I'm ruined," Dimitri had shouted when he found out. Then there was the sound of glass breaking amid a lot of Russian curse words. "What am I gonna do?"
Sergei didn't know and didn't care. He had his own problems. There is one thing I can do.
He signaled the bartender for another beer and opened his laptop.
"Please tell me we have something, anything, some crumb I can give the mayor this morning about this case," said Voight as he tapped the white board.
"Afraid not, boss," said Adam. The others nodded in agreement.
Tension radiated off Voight. "Fine. Then we go back to the beginning. Review every shred of evidence we have, no matter how small, and see what we're missing. I'm tired of the mayor and the Russian embassy crawling up my ass."
Hailey turned to Dante. "Let's hit up Brad again. Maybe we can squeeze something else out of him."
When they rolled into Windy City Dates, the same young woman was at the desk. She frowned when she saw them.
"Remember us?" asked Hailey, flashing her shield. "We need to talk to Brad again."
"You and a lot of other people," she said.
Hailey did not like her attitude. "Excuse me?"
The woman chewed her lip and looked around anxiously. "He's gone."
"What do you mean?" asked Dante.
"Two days after you were here the first time, he went to lunch and never came back. Nobody can get in touch with him and let me tell you, the boss is pretty hot about it." She pointed to the shattered front window now covered with plywood.
"Did anyone file a missing person's report?" asked Hailey.
"Don't know. Nobody's talking about it," shrugged the woman.
"We need his address and contact information," said Dante.
"Sure." She scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it over. "Could you do one of those welfare checks or whatever?" she asked. "I'm worried about Brad. He's a nice guy."
Maybe when he's not being an asshole, thought Hailey.
"We'll look into it," said Dante.
The building super let them into Brad's apartment. "I haven't seen him for several days. Figured he went to Vegas," said the man. "He likes to gamble."
"Does anyone else live here?" asked Hailey.
"Nope. Only Mr. Smithson."
"Okay, we'll take it from here," said Dante.
The super went to the elevator and pushed the down button. Hailey and Dante began searching room by room. When they finished, they stood in the living room and compared notes.
"One shirt and pair of shoes in the closet; dirty clothes in the hamper," said Dante. "And dresser drawers are cleaned out."
"Fridge is empty and no electronics lying around," said Hailey. "We need to run his financials to see what's going on there."
Dante pointed to a large abstract painting hanging over the couch. "What about that?"
"No clue is it's real or fake. If it is real, it would be difficult to transport if you're on the run."
"Maybe there's a safe behind it," said Dante. He and Hailey exchanged a look.
"Let's do it," said Hailey.
Dante took the left side and Hailey took the right side. They lifted it off the wall and set it on the leather couch. A square in-wall safe stared back at them.
Dante grinned. "Sure would love to know what's in there." He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture.
Hailey nodded.
Voight called at that moment and wanted them back at the district. "There's been a development," she told him. "We'll be there in 30 minutes."
Brad Smithson's lack of banking and phone activity suggested he was either in the wind . . . or dead. Since he had ripped off the Russian mafia, it could very well be the latter.
It was 8:30 pm and Dante and Hailey were headed home. "Don't sit in my parking lot tonight. Unless there's some earth-shattering emergency, I am in for the night."
"I wasn't planning to," said Dante.
Hailey turned to stare at him. "You've dropped me?"
"I still got your back. But tonight I'm looking at an apartment my buddy Ray told me about."
"Okay. So, you're moving out of your mom's house?"
"Yeah. She's like, I don't know, too much in my business lately."
Hailey gave him a sympathetic smile. "You mean your personal life?"
Dante chuckled. "Yeah."
"Well, I hope the apartment works out. See you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Hailey. But I am waiting until you get inside and lock the door."
"Copy that."
Brad Smithson sat in the fleabag motel room with the TV turned down low and a pizza box on the bed. He picked up the last slice and ate it slowly while studying the business card in his left hand.
I gotta do this. He threw the slice down and picked up the burner phone.