At Large Read online

  At Large

  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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  At Large: A Detective Jesse McCord Police Thriller, Book 2

  John Vance is a hardened criminal of the worst variety. He runs a drug cartel and orders hits from behind prison walls as part of his daily routine.

  Narcotics Detective Jesse McCord had looked for Vance for years, and Jesse finally landed the break he needed to apprehend him and all the big players, but in the takedown, Vance’s brother Jake was killed. Another year passed before Jesse was finally able to put cuffs around the wrists of the head honcho himself—John Vance. And Vance hasn’t forgotten what Jesse did to him and his family.

  Now, John has pulled off a daring escape and is at large, and what Jesse believes is an unrelated murder leads him closer to the man he is hunting. Jesse vows to put John Vance back behind bars, but John has a plan of his own. Now the question is, who’s hunting whom?

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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 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 1

  The plan had been in the works for months, and it was time to act. In twenty-four hours, John Vance would be transported from Chicago’s Metropolitan Correctional Center to United States Penitentiary, Terre Haute. John wasn’t the only prisoner being moved on Monday, but as a high-profile drug lord and an extremely dangerous man, he had even the warden’s nerves on edge. The move had to go off without a hitch, and the transport bus’s route was a closely guarded secret.

  It was Sunday, and visiting hours were between nine and three. The final plans would be discussed that day in the large room used for family visitation.

  Footsteps sounded on the tile floor and echoed off the cinder block walls as the guard approached John’s cell and metaphorically rattled his cage.

  “Get up, Vance. You have a visitor.”

  “Huh?” John rose from the bed and tried to act surprised.

  “Did I stutter? Stick your hands through the slot so I can hook you up. Move it. I don’t have all day, and put your sandals on too.”

  John knew full well who was coming, but he hoped that by feigning surprise, he would help set the stage for the plan he had designed. He wouldn’t be scrutinized any closer than the other inmates.

  He was led through several gate-secured hallways and down the stairs to the first-floor communal room, where family could visit face-to-face with the inmates on weekends and holidays. Any other time and by appointment only, visitation was conducted in the small cubicles that were separated by plexiglass partitions.

  The guard unlocked the door and nodded John through. “Your brother is at the table by the back wall.” He checked the time. “You’ve got a half hour, so make the best of it. After tomorrow, Curt will have to travel a lot farther to visit you.”

  With a huff, John headed toward his brother, younger by two years. A grin spread across his face as they made eye contact. John took a seat across from Curt at the round table that had four permanently attached chairs. Deliberately, John sat with his back to the guards. He leaned in but made sure to keep the mandatory distance between him and his visitor.

  With his elbows on the table, he cupped his mouth and spoke quietly. “Is everything set for tonight?”

  Curt gave John a slight nod. “Marques and Darian have been paid well, and they’ll be manning the control gate. The package will be ready to go, and it’ll take weeks before anyone notices that it’s missing. By then, both men will have met up with unfortunate accidents. Nubby and Lon are helping tonight and tomorrow too.”

  “Good. Just make sure there’s no loose ends. You better have perfect aim, little brother, since my life depends on it.”

  Curt folded his tattooed arms over his large chest. “Just sit at the back of the bus and relax, dude. You’ll be fine.”

  John gave the guard standing near the window a glance then tipped his head in that direction.

  Curt discreetly looked that way.

  “That’s Trent Harvey. He’s the guy who sent you the route map and arranged for one of the transport guards to make sure my cuffs are unsnapped once I’m seated on the bus.”

  Curt raised his brows. “That’s the guard I wired ten thousand bucks to?”

  “Yep. And everything better go flawlessly for that price. Little does he or the transport guard know that their lives will be cut short,
too, as soon as I’m free. How about the fake documents and a vehicle that’ll get us to Mexico?”

  “Taken care of. Anything else?”

  “Yeah, aim for the front of the bus.”

  Curt smiled and cracked his knuckles. “We’ll see you tomorrow with plenty of cervezas.”

  “I’m counting on it, and tell Nubby and Lon they better be crack shots. Nobody gets out of that bus alive other than me.”

  The head guard called out after checking the time. “That’s it. Visitation is over. Prisoners stand, say your goodbyes, and form a single line at the door.”

  John leaned toward his brother before standing. “Trent will contact you early in the morning with the exact time.” He rapped his knuckles on the table. “And make sure that beer is chilled.” He rose and walked to the back of the line.

  Chapter 2

  I was thankful for a leisurely Sunday morning. No alarms, no sleep-interrupting phone calls, and no whining pup who needed to do his business at four o’clock in the morning. I woke on my own at nine to a dog staring me in the face.

  “Okay, okay, I guess you need to go out. Right, boy?”

  Bandit jumped off the bed and darted down the hallway.

  “Guess that answered my question.”

  I threw back the blankets, slipped on my robe, and followed my excited dog to the patio door. While Bandit was outside doing his business, I filled his food dish and started the coffee. After grabbing the remote, I turned on the kitchen’s countertop TV and watched the morning news while I popped a bagel into the toaster. I caught the middle of a segment about the upcoming transfer of John Vance to USP Terre Haute, a high-security prison.

  Wow, MCC has finally had enough of you. Guess they realized they can’t shut down your drug empire, even from behind prison walls. They should have moved your ass to Terre Haute three years ago.

  My mind went back to the yearlong undercover operation I was lead on when I worked in the narcotics division of our police force. John Vance was our main target, and it took an entire year to track him down and make an arrest. In the meantime, nine major players were put in prison, and I had shot and killed his older brother, Jake, who was second in command. My face warmed from a second of anxiety when I thought of the words John had whispered as I snapped the handcuffs around his wrists. “You’ll pay for killing Jake, pig, and you’ll never see it coming.”

  The transport concerned me, but I knew MCC would make sure the route and time they moved him were kept well under wraps.

  Okay, already. It’s Sunday, and John Vance isn’t my problem anymore.

  I brought Bandit back into the house, and he gobbled his kibbles. “What do you say, buddy? How about going for a ride to the park?”

  A half hour later, with a couple of bottled waters in the car and my dog on the passenger seat, we headed to Burnham Park for exercise and a visit to Promontory Point.

  After a solid-mile run and another mile of walking to cool down, we arrived at The Point for an hour of fetch and then time to relax and reflect. It was closing in on noon when we got back to the car.

  Bandit spun twice and dropped to the seat. He promptly curled up and dozed off. We’d both had a good workout, and I was looking forward to a hot shower and watching golf on TV. My phone rang as I drove the short ten minutes home. Mills was calling.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Are you watching the latest about John Vance on the noon news?”

  “Nah, Bandit and I are heading home from Burnham Park. We both needed to get some exercise. I did see mention of it this morning, though.”

  Frank huffed through the phone lines. “Yeah, they’re giving that dirtball way too much airtime. You’d think they were moving Hannibal Lecter or something.”

  I laughed. “I’m sure they’ll keep everything under control. Nobody, other than MCC, knows the time he’s being moved or what route the convoy is taking.”

  “True, but a lot can go wrong during that four-and-a-half-hour drive.”

  Mills was right to a degree, but transporting inmates was a common occurrence. I’d assumed that because of Vance’s notoriety, he would have a multiple-vehicle escort, but I wasn’t sure. I used the word convoy loosely, but I was confident John Vance would make it to Terre Haute without incident. The prison and media shouldn’t have sensationalized his transport.

  “Hey, I have another call coming in. I have to go.” I clicked over and answered. “Jesse McCord speaking.”

  “Jesse, it’s Lutz. I need you on duty. We’ve got a murder on our hands.”

  Chapter 3

  I dropped off Bandit at home, took a shower, and grabbed my gear. Making a quick stop at my neighbor Dean’s house, I let him know I’d be gone for the afternoon. I asked if he’d feed my pup later and let him out for a bathroom break around seven, then Bandit should be set for the night. I told Dean I’d keep him updated.

  After heading out, I dialed Frank’s number on my way to the location. “Hey, did Lutz call you?” I asked as soon as he answered.

  “Yep, I’m on my way to the crime scene now. So much for a leisurely Sunday. I guess Patrol is on-site, and Forensics and Don are on their way.”

  “Okay, I should be rolling up in five.”

  I clicked off the call and let my navigation lead me in. Arriving on the scene, I saw three patrol cars parked along the curb. Two children and an officer sat in the first car.

  “Jesus Christ, there are kids present.” I parked, stepped out of my Camaro, and waved to get the officer’s attention. He came over and stood at my side.

  “Detective McCord.”

  “Bentley. How about a quick rundown of what took place here?”

  “Sure thing.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “The kids found their mom dead on the kitchen floor less than a half hour ago. It’s pretty bad, sir. They had just been dropped off after a birthday and bowling party at Pins, went inside, and found a bloodbath and the house destroyed. The eldest son, Devon, called 911, and then they ran next door.”

  “And that’s all they know?”

  “Sounds that way.”

  “Where’s the father?”

  “On a business trip in New York, according to the twelve-year-old. He said the dad left yesterday, but he doesn’t know where he’s staying.”

  “We’ll get his number off Mrs. Morton’s cell phone.” The typical scenario was beginning to take shape. Wife murdered while the husband was conveniently out of town and the kids were gone for hours. “Somebody coming for the kids?”

  “Their aunt, the dad’s sister, lives the closest. She’s on her way.”

  “Good. Just don’t let them leave until I have a word with them. Mills should be here any second. I want you and the others to cordon off the street. You’ll start canvassing the neighborhood as soon as the aunt leaves with the children.”

  Mills parked and crossed the street. I nodded at Bentley. “Go ahead and sit with the kids but come and get me when the aunt arrives.”

  Frank joined me on the sidewalk seconds later. “Been inside yet?”

  “Nope, I was waiting for you. I’ve heard it isn’t pretty, though, and it was the kids that found her.”

  “Damn.”

  Mills and I entered a house that could rival that of any horror film. Blood evidence that went from room to room told the story of a woman who’d fought for her life. Furniture was toppled over, walls were streaked with bloody handprints, and on the kitchen floor, Mrs. Morton had finally lost the battle against her assailant.

  “Holy shit.” Frank raked his fingers through his buzz-cut blond hair.

  We stared down at a woman who was saturated from head to toe in her own blood. I knelt next to her and looked at her wounds. “Stabbed to death.”

  “Overkill if you ask me, and that doesn’t fit with a typical robbery. The perp would put her down, grab whatever he could of value, and get the hell out. Somebody took their time with her. Looks like a rage killing.”

  “You’re right, but
the husband is out of town.”

  Frank shook his head. “That’s convenient.”

  We turned to the voice of our coroner, Don Lawry, as he entered the kitchen. “Sorry, guys, but you’ll have to step out. Danny and Mike are right behind me.”

  With a grimace, I stood, then Frank and I went to the living room and began going through the scene, slowly that time. I scanned each window. None were broken, and the front door wasn’t jimmied.

  “No forced entry. When someone knocked on a typical Sunday, she answered the door. The assailant caught her by surprise, forced his way in, and put the attack into motion.”

  “Or she knew him,” Frank said.

  I scratched my chin. “Yeah, or that.”

  We stepped outside and walked the perimeter of the house. The overhead garage door was closed, the side door into the garage was locked, and the back door—a slider—was locked from the inside. No windows at the back of the house had been broken either.

  When Bentley called out to me from the gate, I turned. “Detective McCord, the aunt just arrived.”

  Frank frowned. “The aunt?”

  “Closest relative until the dad gets back, and it’s his sister.”

  Frank headed to the front yard. “Let’s hear what she has to say.”

  The distraught aunt, already embracing her two nephews, wiped her tears and tried to compose herself long enough to have a word with us. “Kids, I have to talk to these detectives for a minute. Why don’t you wait in the car?”

  I watched as the twelve- and ten-year-old boys walked away. I began once they were out of earshot. “Ma’am, may we have your name, please?”

  “Carla, Carla Reed. Hal is my brother, and Tina is, or was, my sister-in-law.” She pulled a tissue from her purse and blew her nose. “What happened, exactly?”