Chapter 16
Hailey threw a load of clothes in the washer and went to heat up some leftover Thai food. Then she sorted through the mail until the microwave dinged. She set the food on the coffee table and found a Jim Carrey movie to watch. She and Jay had seen it at least half a dozen times, but it still made her laugh. And she definitely needed a good laugh tonight.
Their current case was going nowhere and everyone was tired and on edge. Their best, and only lead, had vanished. For all they knew, Brad Smithson could be in Alaska or Aruba. Or anywhere in between. He could certainly afford to buy a new identity with the stolen mob money.
She finished her dinner and was reaching for the phone to check e-mail when it suddenly rang. She was so startled that she pulled her hand back. But when she saw Jay's name, she quickly grabbed it.
"Jay . . . wow."
"Are you okay, Hails? You sound winded."
"Yeah, fine. But better now that I'm hearing your voice."
"You took the words right out of my mouth," said Jay. They both were quiet for a moment. "How is everything?"
Hailey sighed. Now that's a loaded question. How much should I really tell him?
"Not great. Our only suspect in this complicated case did a disappearing act and the mayor and Russian embassy are all over us about it."
"Russian embassy? Okay, sounds intense. Talk me through it. Like we always do."
"Sure." She gave him an abbreviated version, purposely omitting the off-book surveillance. It would only worry him and earn her one of Jay's "safety" lectures.
"What about Torres? Is he adjusting?"
"Dante's good. He's been a lot of help. Like I told Voight, he has good instincts. However, he can be overprotective at times."
"I taught him well," laughed Jay.
Before Hailey could respond, there was a loud noise in the background. Her heart leapt to her throat. "What was that?"
"Probably one drug lord blowing up a rival's warehouse," said Jay. "That's been happening a lot lately. We're going outside the wire soon on a scouting mission."
Hailey squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, Jay. Please, please, please be careful. The men you work with . . . they have your back?"
"Yeah. They're a pretty good lot. They're just sick of the violence and want these damn drug cartels gone. All the people here want is to live in peace and raise their kids."
"Of course."
Another explosion rocked the ground and lit up the night sky. "Shit. That was a lot closer," said Jay. "I need to go. I'll call again as soon as I can. Love you, Hails."
"Love you, too. Come back to me," said Hailey just before the line went dead. She stared at the phone while the tears rolled down her cheeks. After a couple minutes, she sniffed loudly and got her emotions under control. She noticed her tattoo and ran her fingers over it lightly. Come back to me, Jay. Then she went to wash her face and prepare for bed.
Brad paced around the small motel room with the burner phone in his hand. Come on, man. What are you waiting for? Make the stupid call. He kept turning his situation over and over in his mind. If the Bratva find me, I'll be tortured and die a slow, painful death. But maybe, just maybe, if I go to the cops, I can make a deal with them in exchange for protection. After all, I have some valuable information.
There was the sound of furniture being overturned or thrown around in the room next door. A man and woman started screaming. Brad flinched and sat down heavily on the bed.
It was after midnight. I hope blondie's still awake. He punched in the number.
12:25 A.M.
Hailey was almost asleep when the phone rang. She did not recognize the number, but it could be one of her or Jay's CIs. They were always ditching one burner and buying a new one.
Or it could be Sergei Zhurov. What if he somehow got this number? She sat up on the side of the bed and steeled herself to deal with whatever it was.
"Upton," she said curtly.
"Uh, it's Brad. Brad Smithson, Detective. You gave me your card."
"I remember."
"I, uh, I'm ready to talk. I have information."
A door opened and the argument next door spilled into the hall. More yelling ensued and then two shots were fired. It sounded really loud in the small hallway. Then footsteps ran toward the elevator.
"Oh God. I have to get out of this place," moaned Brad.
"What's going on? Where are you?" asked Hailey.
"A dump motel, The Hudson Inn, corner of Reardon and Parker. There's a diner down the street. Can you meet me there?"
"I'll see you in 20 minutes."
Brad stuffed his belongings in his duffle bag and slowly opened the door. The woman was lying face down with blood pooling around her head. He gasped in shock. The only dead person he'd seen up close was his grandmother. But she died a natural death in her bed at 89.
There was nothing natural about this poor woman's demise. He ran to the end of the hall, opened the window and climbed onto the rusty fire escape.
Hailey entered the diner and looked around. The half dozen patrons already there gave her a brief look, then hunched back down over their plates of greasy food and mugs of coffee. She saw Brad in a booth at the back and walked toward him.
She slid in opposite him. A waitress approached with a mug and a pot of coffee, but Hailey waved her off.
"I heard about the domestic disturbance at the motel. But that's not why we're here."
Brad dropped his head into his hands. "It was horrible. So much blood. I never saw anything like it. Now I'll have to find a new place. I can't go back there." His hand was shaking so much he couldn't pick up his coffee. Finally, he rested his palms flat on the table.
"Brad, take a deep breath. I know you're traumatized, but can you tell me why you called? Is it about the girls?"
His eyes darted around frantically. "I don't know if it's safe to talk here. Can you put me in protective custody? I'm not turning over any info until I feel safe." He jerked his head toward the duffle bag beside him.
Oh boy. "Let me make a call." She rang up the night desk sergeant. "It's Upton. I need a place to park a nervous witness overnight."
"Witness or suspect?"
"Not sure at this point," said Hailey.
The desk sergeant chuckled. "Well, you're in luck. We have four empty holding cells downstairs."
"Great. Reserve one for me."
"You got it."
Hailey slid out of the booth. "Come on. We're going to the District."
Dante was still awake, too. He was going to rent the apartment. It was small, clean and half-way between his mom's house and his sister's house. There was even some furniture that the previous tenant abandoned. It wasn't fancy, but it would work for him.
Then his thoughts turned to Hailey. I hope she really is at home and not out doing something crazy. He reached for the phone to text her and paused. Hold up. I can't text her now. She's probably sound asleep.
He laid the phone down and rolled onto his side.
"Okay, you're safe here." Hailey and Brad were in the interrogation room. "So, talk. I'd like to get a few hours of sleep before this night is over."
"Understood." He unzipped the duffle bag and pulled out several paper files and a USB drive. "I got as much info as I could before I split."
"Start at the beginning. How did you get involved with Windy City Dates?"
"I lost my job at a mid-level CPA firm when it was taken over by a mega firm. I was out drinking one night and met Dimitri. We started talking and out of the blue, he offered me a job making way more money. He even offered to pay off my student loans."
Brad stopped and shook his head. "I was so stupid. So damn stupid. But I was desperate. My folks needed financial help because my dad got injured at work. They're in danger of losing their house. Then there's my two younger sisters. They're in college and I was sending them money from time to time."
"Why didn't you walk away?" asked Hailey.
"By the time I figured out who these guys were and what they were doing, it was too late. They knew where my family lived. I was afraid they might kidnap or kill them. I told my parents I got a big new job making big money at another CPA firm. No way I could tell them I worked at an escort agency. I was embarrassed."
He ran his hands through his hair. "How did I let myself get sucked into this freaking mess?"
"Want some coffee?" asked Hailey.
"Sure."
Over the next hour, Brad revealed more details about people and accounts Intelligence had no knowledge of. If it was corroborated by the files, they had more than enough for an arrest warrant for Sergei Zhurov and his cousin Dimitri.
"One more thing. What's in that safe in your living room?"
Brad was surprised. "How do you know about that?"
"We did a welfare check. Your receptionist was worried."
"Glad somebody was worried," mumbled Brad. "Another USB of this info, the cash I skimmed, my passport. I was certain a couple thugs were following me so I couldn't go back for it."
"What was your plan?"
"Go to south Florida and work with my cousin. He has some car dealerships."
Hailey studied him for a moment. "I appreciate you coming forward. But we have to verify all this."
"I know."
"You'll be spending the night in a holding cell in the basement. You'll be safe there. That's the only good thing I can say about it." Hailey expected him to protest, but he only nodded.
After settling Brad in his cell, Hailey got a call from Samantha, the ICU evening charge nurse at Med. "Your coma patient is awake. If you hurry, you can have five minutes to interview her. She could slip back into a coma at any moment."
"Thanks, Sam. I'm on my way."
The ICU was hopping and it was several hours later before Sam realized she hadn't seen Hailey. Must have caught a new case. Sam knew the drill; her husband was a cop in another district.