Sniper's Nest Read online

  Sniper’s Nest

  by

  C. M. Sutter

  Copyright © 2019

  All Rights Reserved

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book is a work of fiction by C.M. Sutter. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used solely for entertainment. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  C.M. Sutter is a crime fiction writer who resides in Florida, although she is originally from California.

  She is a member of over fifty writing groups and book clubs. In addition to writing, she enjoys spending time with her family and dog, and you’ll often find her writing in airports and on planes as she flies from state to state on family visits.

  She is an art enthusiast and loves to create gourd birdhouses, pebble art, and handmade soaps. Gardening, bicycling, fishing, and traveling are a few of her favorite pastimes.

  C.M. Sutter

  http://cmsutter.com/

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  Sniper’s Nest: A Detective Jesse McCord Police Thriller, Book 1

  The ambush is in place, he takes aim, and shots ring out. Chicago is officially on notice, and a siege is underway on the city’s men and women in blue.

  Assigned to the task force investigating the shootings, Jesse McCord and twenty of Chicago’s top-notch detectives work day and night to track down the sniper whose agenda is apparent—to kill as many police officers as possible.

  Getting in front of the crazed assailant is the only way to stop him, but without a name, a face, or a witness to the shootings, the police department is chasing a ghost.

  As a profile evolves, Jesse is struck by the realization that he and the sniper have much more in common than anyone could have known. It’s the epiphany he needs to stop the shooter, and a dangerous game of cat and mouse begins. Taking on the killer face-to-face, and single-handedly, is the only way Jesse can protect his colleagues and end the siege on his beloved Chicago—the city he calls home and always will.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 1

  He glanced at his watch before making the most important call of his life. It was 9:23 p.m., and there was no turning back. Once done, it couldn’t be undone, and everything would change dramatically. He’d either be dead or incarcerated, or he would get away with the revenge he’d been planning for the last few weeks. He sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and hit the voice-altering app on his phone before pressing the three crucial numbers.

  “911, what is the nature of your emergency?”

  He calmed himself before speaking. “It looks like several guys are trying to break into the house across the street from me. It doesn’t appear that anyone is home. At least, the interior lights are all off, but I saw the men prowling around the windows in the glow of the yard lights.”

  “I’ll need that address, sir, and how many offenders do you see?”

  He rattled off the address and told the operator that he’d seen three men.

  “Units have been dispatched and are on their way, and your name is?”

  The line went dead.

  “Sir?”

  After a final check to confirm that the locations tab on his burner phone had been turned off, he pocketed it. Squinting in the darkness, he gave every direction a thorough once-over to make sure nobody was around before he continued on. Earlier that day, he’d stopped by, surveilled the area for cameras, and twisted the knob on the back door—it wasn’t locked. Pry marks would surely give away the location of the building he planned to shoot from, and he didn’t intend to make the job easy for the cops. He took the stairs to the roof and awaited their arrival.

  He focused on the approaching police cars, and was impressed. It took the patrol units only four minutes from the time he’d hung up until the time he saw them several blocks away, but getting the ambulances close enough to be helpful would be an entirely different matter.

  Determination covered his face as he took his spot on the rooftop of the vacant factory two blocks from the address he’d given the 911 dispatcher. From his third-floor perch, he saw the flashing blue lights. Two vehicles told him that between two and four officers would lose their lives that night.

  The boys in blue are almost here. Sorry, guys, but I have to do what I have to do, and justice is better served as a blindside.

  After rolling the plugs to fit, he jammed them into his ears and pressed the bipod-mounted AR-15’s buttstock against his shoulder. He checked the sights from his vantage point as he waited. Seconds later, the patrol cars rolled up to the curb and parked, and two officers exited each vehicle.

  Just like shooting caged animals. They don’t have a chance in hell.

  The night vision scope worked flawlessly as he turned his ball cap backward and zeroed in on the first officer’s head.

  I can still change my mind and call it off.

  He had only a second to think before he would lose the opportunity. He squeezed the rifle’s trigger and, with a left-to-right sweep, mowed down all four men within seconds.

  The ear-piercing cracks would have quickly alerted the neighborhood, and calls to the police station would flood in. More units would arrive soon. Wasting no time, he packed up his gear, exited the building, and disappeared into the darkness.

  Chapter 2

  Jesse McCord had been back on the force for six months and was given a clean bill of health by doctors at the University of Chi
cago Medical Center and, after his two-month stay, the staff at Hazelden Addiction Treatment Center too. He was as good as new after being held captive and drugged for a week by that dirty cop, John Conrad. The last year had been a nightmare, and on occasion, those nightmares still took over his dreams.

  Waking from his usual nap on the couch, with Bandit at his feet, Jesse stared across the living room at the family portrait on the opposite wall. He was the only one left, and at thirty-six, he was far too young to be without family. His colleagues at the Chicago police force, his neighbor, Dean, and his college buddies were all he had left. Putting in ten-hour days—sometimes more—and spending time with friends helped take his mind off missing his parents and the horrific murder of his only sibling, Jenna, at the hands of her own husband seven months earlier.

  With a deep sigh, Jesse stood and crossed the living room into the kitchen, where he pulled his second beer of the night out of the refrigerator and twisted the top off the bottle. Bandit cocked his head as Jesse tossed the cap into the trash can. Evenings were tough. He could watch only so much TV, and after a full day as the lead detective in the homicide division of the Violent Crimes Unit of the Chicago Police Department’s Wentworth station, he didn’t have much ambition left. He had become a nighttime couch potato.

  “What do you think, boy? Should I get on one of those dating websites and look for a girlfriend?”

  Bandit whimpered, resumed his position at the foot of the couch, and closed his eyes.

  “I’ll take that as a no. Maybe a project in the backyard, then.”

  Jesse opened the sliders and stepped out into the comfortable spring night. As he took a seat on the deck, he looked up. The moon was full, and the sky was clear. “Tomorrow should be a beautiful day, as far as weather goes. The rest is yet to be seen.”

  The ring of his phone caused him to go inside—he’d left it on the coffee table. He gave the screen a glance, and it was a restricted number.

  That’s got to be the district.

  He swiped the green phone symbol. “McCord.”

  “Jesse, it’s Lutz. We need you at the station now. We have an ‘all hands on deck’ situation, and I’ll explain what we know when you get here.”

  “I’m on my way.” Jesse tipped his wrist and checked the time—9:36. “I should be rolling in around ten o’clock.”

  He hung up, and after filling Bandit’s water bowl, Jesse secured his badge to his belt and slipped his Glock 22 sidearm into its holster.

  “Watch the house, Bandit. If anyone other than me enters, tear them up.”

  Jesse took the steps to the house’s lower level and into the garage, where his bright-yellow Camaro ZL1 was ready to roar to life.

  The trip from Jesse’s house on Cregier Avenue to the Second District Wentworth station was an easy eighteen minutes. When he arrived, he parked next to the cruisers and entered through the front door. He tipped his head at Patrice, the night shift desk sergeant, punched in the code, then placed his hand on the palm reader and pulled open the door to the Violent Crimes Unit. Jesse turned right at the hallway and walked to the third door on the left—Lutz’s office.

  “Hey, Boss, what the hell is going on? Your call sounded urgent.”

  “It is, and I’m sorry I had to call you back after you clocked out only a few hours ago.”

  Jesse waved away the comment. “Not a problem. What’s going on?”

  “There’s been a shooting, and the 911 callers say they see four men down.”

  “Shit. I dozed off on the couch and didn’t catch the news.”

  “The media doesn’t have any details yet, so nothing has aired.”

  “Where was the shooting?”

  “Ten minutes from here, right in our own district. The victims were four patrol units that responded to a 911 burglary call.”

  “What!”

  Lutz ran his hand across his furrowed brow and groaned. “It only happened a half hour ago. Their squad leader thinks an active shooter may still be in the area. Commander Abrams is pretty certain the 911 call that came in was just a ploy to ambush cops. They didn’t stand a chance. SWAT is on site and clearing the scene before the ambulances can move in. You know the drill. No medical units allowed in until the imminent threat is over.”

  “I know that all too well. So we have no idea if any of the officers are still alive?”

  “Abrams is waiting for confirmation from SWAT.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “For now, the area is on lockdown. The neighbors that called in the shooting were told to stay in their houses and secure their doors.” Lutz rose from his chair. “Come on. Everyone is meeting in the roll call room.”

  Two hallways later, Jesse took a seat alongside his fellow detectives and officers in the large room used for roll call and updates every morning. Filled shoulder to shoulder with men and women in blue, the room was abuzz. Commander Mark Abrams, a lifelong Chicago resident and in charge of Patrol for the last nine years, stood at the podium and cleared his throat. The Second District’s newly promoted commander, Bob Lutz, sat at his side. The room fell silent when Abrams began to speak.

  “Here’s what we do and don’t know at the moment. Four of my patrol officers responding to a 911 call of a possible burglary in progress were gunned down in cold blood less than an hour ago. There’s no question that this was an attempt, and a successful one, to ambush and kill innocent police officers, and nobody is allowed in until SWAT clears a ten-block perimeter around the location. Until we hear back, we don’t know where the shooter was stationed, what kind of weapon he used, or if any of those men are still alive. Once that perimeter is set, taped off, and monitored by law enforcement, officers and Forensics will start combing the area for clues. Any questions?”

  Officer Lou Stedman from Patrol spoke up. “What about the caller?”

  Abrams nodded. “Commander Lutz and I have already listened to the recording, and we’ve turned it over to Tech to see if they can get anything out of it. The caller was male, said there were three men prowling around the house across the street, and gave the address. He hung up at the thirty-two-second mark and didn’t give his name.”

  Frank Mills, Jesse’s partner and closest friend on the force, jammed a piece of nicotine gum into his mouth and groused under his breath. “It would have been phony, anyway.”

  Just before Abrams turned the meeting over to Lutz, his phone rang, and every eye in the room locked on him.

  “Commander Abrams speaking. Yes, I understand, and I’ll take care of notifying the families. We’ll be waiting for your okay to move in.” He ended the call and hung his head.

  Lutz patted Abrams on the shoulder, whispered in his ear, and took over. “I’m sure all of you can read between the lines, and we’ll get more details on the fallen officers later. Right now, I’m going to brief my homicide unit on steps we can take after we get the okay from SWAT that the neighborhood has been cleared. Everyone in Patrol should sit with your squad leader and the commander to see how to keep yourselves safe when responding to emergency calls.”

  Chapter 3

  Police vehicles lined the street nose to bumper and took up the curb space over a two-block area, and the rest of us who weren’t on duty at the time of the shooting arrived at the crime scene in our personal vehicles. Hours had passed since we were given the “all clear” signal from SWAT to move in on the neighborhood. In four hours, the sun would break the horizon, and people would start their day and leave for work. With any luck, the barricades and police tape would be down by then, but I was sure we’d have a presence there until well into the afternoon.

  With a dozen detectives between the combined shifts, we scoured every street in the area, and the twenty or more foot soldiers conducted knock and talks of every house and apartment building in a five-block radius. From what Forensics had told us upon their initial inspection of how the bodies fell, they were sure the shots came from the south. They combed the immediate area around the bodies for clues
after the ME conducted his field exams, then they assured us there wasn’t evidence of a crime near the dead officers other than the victims themselves.

  Mills and I joined Lutz as he asked Don Lawry, the medical examiner, what he’d thought was the weapon used by the assailant.

  “My initial assessment would be a high-caliber rifle. It doesn’t sound like any of the 911 callers actually saw a shooter, only the officers as they fell to their deaths. That’s telling me the shooter was a distance away, hence the high-powered rifle. I’d venture to say the weapon was an easy-to-purchase AR-15 or something along those lines, but I’ll know more after I get the bodies on the tables. Two of the bullets were through-and-throughs, meaning the slugs are going to be difficult to find, but I can go off the other two that are lodged in the bodies. There’s no doubt that with the caller’s saying they heard rapid fire, that all four men were killed with the same weapon. I should be able to determine the trajectory for you too.”

  With a chin scratch, I looked toward the multiple-story buildings surrounding us—there were plenty of them. “So he could have taken a sniper’s stance from above?”

  “It’s a good possibility, Jesse, and maybe that’s why none of the callers saw anyone that looked suspicious leaving the area.”

  Mills and I headed in a south-to-southeast direction and continued searching the ground with our flashlights.

  “Did you know any of the guys that were killed?” Frank asked.

  “Nah, I’m not familiar with the night shift crew, but no matter what, I’m wondering if tonight was a one-time event or a warning of what’s headed our way.”

  Mills grunted as he kicked a rock toward the curb. “God only knows, but I sure as hell hope not. I don’t even want to think of how that could impact the city.”