Sniper's Nest Page 2

  I glanced sideways at him. “A situation like that could shut down law and order in Chicago completely. A free-for-all of criminals would take over if the men and women in blue were under siege, and the city would end up in a state of emergency with the National Guard in charge.”

  “Let’s hope we catch the nutjob before anything remotely like that becomes a reality.”

  Lutz caught up with us at daybreak. “Find anything out this way?”

  “Nothing.” I pointed at the buildings where a sniper could fire from a window or a rooftop facing the yard where the officers were gunned down. “The higher the assailant was, the farther away he could have been. Interviewing every tenant in those buildings on the side that faces the crime scene could take days.”

  Lutz cursed the fact that I was right. “You day shifters have been on the clock for nearly twenty hours. Go home, grab some sleep, and be back at the district at noon. Maybe we’ll have a break in the case, but if nothing else, by then, Don ought to know the weapon used, its range, and the trajectory the shots came from. With that information, we should be able to narrow down the search parameters somewhat.” He jerked his head back toward the ground zero location. “Go on. Get the hell out of here, but give me a heads-up on your way back in. We need to find where the shooter was stationed, and we’ll be working to discover that spot most of the day. That, if anyplace, is where evidence would be left behind.”

  We ducked under the yellow tape that closed off the perimeter of the neighborhood and returned to our vehicles. Hours had passed since our arrival, and in that time a half dozen news vans with their masts raised had set up post just beyond the police-patrolled barricade. I had no idea if they knew anything at all except that something had happened a few blocks away, but because they were police scanner savvy, I was sure they had the information necessary to sensationalize the tragedy on their station’s news channels.

  Mills lit a cigarette as we walked to our cars.

  “Still can’t quit, huh?”

  “I’m a work in progress, buddy. It’ll take time.”

  I gave Frank a shoulder pat before opening my car door and climbing in behind the wheel. “Get some rest, partner. Noon is going to come a lot sooner than we want it to.”

  Chapter 4

  He adjusted the voice-altering software on the mobile app to sound like a woman, checked the time, and made the call. He listened as the all-too-familiar monotone question sounded on the other end of the line.

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

  “I don’t know if 911 was the right number to call or if I should have dialed child protective services.”

  “Ma’am, what seems to be the problem?”

  “It’s my neighbor, Arvin Wagner. He’s a junkie and takes out his frustrations on his kids. I can hear him screaming and trashing the apartment.”

  “I’ll need the address of the emergency.”

  “Certainly. His apartment is at 7057 West Seventieth Street, just off South Halsted, number 202.”

  “A unit has been dispatched and should arrive in the next few minutes. The officers will want a statement from you after they speak to Mr. Wagner. Your name is?”

  “Beth Grimes, and I live in apartment 203. This isn’t the best neighborhood, but I have to live somewhere in an affordable apartment.”

  “Thank you, Miss Grimes. The officers will be there momentarily.”

  He hung up before the operator could ask more questions. A small parking lot, empty of cars, led to the back door of the laundromat, and since it was daylight, he was forced to change the gun he would use. A former marine, he was proficient with many weapons, and the firearm made no difference to him. Accuracy was what counted. The 9mm Beretta with a fifteen-round magazine would do just fine. Two bullets was all he needed, and taking aim and hitting the heads of the responding officers fifty yards away would be a no-brainer. He grimaced at the irony of the thought.

  He climbed the rickety steps just inside the back door to the laundromat’s tarred, flat-topped roof, planted the evidence, then took his position. He’d be able to pick off the cops in two seconds flat and be gone in ten. With a right-hand glance every few seconds, he’d easily see the squad car approaching from several blocks away. Meanwhile, he lined up the sights and took aim at the curb in front of the apartment building while he awaited their arrival.

  Here they come. Get ready, officers. You’re literally about to be blown away.

  Seconds later, the squad car pulled to the curb. Racking a round into the chamber, he steadied his gun with both hands to avoid the slightest movement, then rested his finger against the trigger. He watched as the driver’s-side door opened and a male officer stepped out. His eyes darted to the opening passenger door, and the second officer stepped onto the patch of grass next to the curb.

  Looks like you’ll be the first female to die. That’s going to cause a frenzy at the PD.

  He waited as the officers cleared the car and started up the sidewalk. He was close enough to hear them talk as they walked toward the vestibule’s door. They had no cover in the immediate area to hide behind, so his shots would drop them instantly.

  With the slightest bit of pressure to the trigger, he fired off the first round, and a mist of red filled the air around the male officer’s head. A quick second shot dropped the female. They both lay in blood pools that formed beneath them on the sidewalk. He picked up the two spent casings, holstered the gun, and scurried down the stairs to the laundromat’s rear exit. Casually walking away so he wouldn’t attract attention, he turned down the next street, climbed into his car, and drove away, blending in with the morning traffic.

  Chapter 5

  A tail-wagging, slobbery-licks dog greeted me at the door when I came up the stairs from the garage. No matter what my mood at any given time, the mutt that used to belong to my sister, Jenna, was a loyal companion and my fur buddy.

  “Hey, pal, looks like you held down the fort while I was gone. Good job, Bandit.” I watched as his tail went back and forth at record speed. “How about a treat? Then I have to snooze for a few hours. Deal?”

  Bandit ran to the cupboard where the treats were stashed. His understanding of the English language was on par with that of most grade-school kids. With a tired laugh, I handed him several bacon-filled treats, let him outside for a bathroom break, then took my spot on the couch after setting my phone’s alarm for eleven thirty. Bandit jumped up and took his spot too then curled up at my feet.

  I forced myself to ignore the TV since every station would likely be airing coverage about the slain officers and I’d never get any sleep. I closed my eyes instead, and my body finally relaxed. If I was lucky, I’d get four hours of much-needed rest.

  The vibration in my shirt pocket caused me to jump. I slapped at my pocket to retrieve my phone, refusing to believe four hours had already passed. I squinted at the screen—9:02.

  What the hell?

  I swiped the phone icon and answered. My sleep-induced voice cracked with the first words out of my mouth. “McCord here.”

  “Jesse, it’s Lutz. Sorry to wake you, but there’s been another shooting. This time it was in the Seventh District. That doesn’t pertain to us, and we just got word of it, but it looks like this may end up being a citywide effort. There’s a chance the PD is under siege, and I need you back at the station now. We’re going to conduct a district-wide powwow in the roll call room in a half hour. We have to come up with a plan of action, and the chief already has a call out to First Deputy Superintendent Childress.”

  I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “Yep, I’m on my way.” With an exhausted groan, I slapped cold water on my cheeks, poured dog food into Bandit’s bowl, and scratched him behind the ears. “See you soon, buddy.”

  On the road five minutes later and at our district precinct in fifteen, I was lucky to hit every green light on my way.

  Once again, the roll call room was jam-packed. I stood against the wall after pouring mysel
f a cup of coffee.

  “Okay, everyone, let’s begin.” Lutz stood at the podium and looked over the crowded room, which was filled with every rank of officer, and sighed. “The other commanders and myself have gone all the way to the first deputy superintendent for recommendations. This may seem premature to some, but I’m not about to stand by and watch our men and women in blue get gunned down every time they respond to a 911 call. Childress has given the okay to have SWAT help patrol the city and respond to emergency calls. The message this maniac is sending out is loud and clear. He has a grudge against law enforcement and intends to kill as many of us as he can. We aren’t going to risk any more lives.” Lutz scanned the room then stepped aside. Commander Abrams of Patrol stepped up to the podium and read off the sheet in front of him. “Since last night, the patrol department has lost six dedicated people. The maniac, still at large, took the lives of officers Bobby Jones, Tony Crawford, John Erring, and Pat Murphy. An hour ago, Officer Greg Perkins and his partner, Officer Kim Alexander, were gunned down in the Seventh District while responding to a call of possible child abuse by a parent. Once again, calling in a 911 emergency and then ambushing and shooting the officers dead once they exited their vehicle, was the objective. That needs to stop right now, so along with the assistance from SWAT, we as officers need to stay proactive. Patrol units will still be out there but in full gear with shields. They’ll respond to emergency calls only if the number, caller, and address has been verified, and if they’re accompanied by at least one member from SWAT.”

  I spoke up. “What about flagging that voice on the 911 calls? Every incoming call is recorded, so can’t Tech set up voice-recognition software that will flag the calls coming in from that person?”

  Abrams shook his head. “That sounds logical, Detective McCord, but there’s also software to alter one’s voice, and we believe that’s what was used today. The 911 operator said, and we’ve verified it ourselves, that the caller had a female voice. There’s the chance the assailant may have a female accomplice or he used a voice-altering program during the call, but as of now, it’s too early to know.”

  Mills caught Lutz’s attention with a head tip.

  Lutz stood alongside Abrams. “Frank, you have something to add?”

  “I do. Now that a second shooting has taken place and both Officers Perkins and Alexander from District 7 were killed, the search at the first crime scene has been called off. Valuable information and evidence may be lost if we don’t resume the interviews and check out the residences that have windows and balconies facing the murder scene.”

  “I agree and have to give that some thought, but I don’t want to risk one more life.”

  A patrol officer from the back called out to Abrams. “The residents have to be interviewed, sir. Any one of them could be the shooter. It puts the entire city at risk, especially that neighborhood. Maybe the shooter is ready and willing to kill anyone, not just the police.”

  Murmurs and complaints erupted from the crowd.

  Lutz raised his hands. “We don’t think the shooter lives in that neighborhood. Since the killings took place in entirely different areas of the city, we believe he’s an opportunist of the worst kind and wants to keep us off balance by moving around.”

  Detective Henry Johnson added his two cents. “If we cower in fear, he wins.”

  “He’s already won the first and second rounds, Henry,” Lutz said. “We haven’t found one eyewitness that can describe him or his vehicle, and we don’t know where he’s going to strike next. This is a large city with over ten thousand police officers. Maybe Patrol isn’t the only branch he’s gunning for. They just happen to be the easiest target. Shy of wearing body armor, I’m open to suggestions of how to safely proceed.”

  I took my turn again. “I’d suggest we, as detectives, go in and get a closer look at the area, while wearing street clothes. We need to find the spot where the shots came from since there could be DNA, fingerprints, or even shell casings left behind. I’ll ask Forensics what we need to do, and I’ll be the first to volunteer.”

  Mills nodded. “And I’m Jesse’s partner, so count me in.”

  Henry stood. “I’m going too.”

  Lutz held up his hands. “Okay, and I appreciate it, guys, but first, we need to pinpoint where the shots originated from. Don is also working on the trajectory, which will tell us if the shooter was elevated as in a sniper’s nest or not. Meanwhile, let’s get an aerial view of a six-block grid and go over it while we’re waiting. Don should be calling with the results any minute now.”

  We took a five-minute break to grab more coffee since some of us were going on thirty hours with very little sleep. We congregated in the conference room while Abrams remained in the roll call room with his patrol units to form a plan of action.

  I leaned across the table and looked our commander in the eyes. “Bob, we have six very competent detectives on the first shift and four more at night. Do you really think we’re going to let that slime ball hold our city hostage? Let us do our job and bring this piece of shit to his knees.”

  Lutz tapped his pen on the sheet of paper in front of him. “Okay, humor me. Let me hear your idea.”

  With the laptop in front of us, I enlarged the aerial view of the neighborhood from last night’s murders. “The initial thought coming from Forensics was that the killer took his shots from somewhere south of the crime scene.” I circled the area with my index finger. “Depending on the weapon used and its range, he could have been across the street or three blocks away. Of course, the farther away he was, the higher up he had to be.” I checked the time. “Don’s input would really come in handy right now.”

  Lutz reached for the landline phone and dialed the medical examiner’s office. “Don, it’s Bob, and I have you on Speakerphone. My detectives are raring to get back out there and finish up the interviews and continue with the neighborhood search of the first crime scene. Since we don’t want Forensics in harm’s way, the detectives will collect whatever evidence they can find once we narrow down the location the shooter took aim from.”

  “And I believe my assessment is accurate, Commander. The slugs pulled from officers Jones and Daltry looked to be .223 ammunition.”

  I nodded at Mills and whispered, “Yep, an AR-15 and a gun easy enough to buy without raising a red flag.”

  Don continued. “I’d give that weapon a two-block range for a bull’s-eye hit, which he apparently had. From the entry wounds, which were in a downward fashion, I’d say he took his shots from a twenty- to thirty-foot height.”

  “Okay, so we’re looking at two- and three-story buildings?”

  “That’s correct, Bob, and I’d agree with the forensic department’s opinion of the shooter taking his shots from somewhere south of the crime scene.”

  Lutz slapped the table. “Good enough, and thanks.”

  “You bet.”

  Lutz hung up and leaned over my shoulder as I tapped the screen and picked the most likely buildings the killer could have shot from. “We have a mix of single-family houses and apartments in the neighborhood, but if he shot from a three-story building, it would have to be the farthest one back.”

  Mills pointed at the screen. “And there are two of them right there and a handful of two-story buildings on the block in front of them. The only apartments we need to check, and people to interview, would be from the units facing the crime scene.”

  Henry added, “And we can’t forget the rooftops either.”

  Lutz stood and stretched. “Okay, no sport jackets or dress shoes. Go home, change into jeans, T-shirts, and ballcaps. Be back here in forty-five minutes. That’s when we’ll orchestrate your approach.”

  Chapter 6

  For the second time that day, I walked into the house at an odd hour. Bandit woke from his nap and cocked his head to the left when he saw me.

  “I know, right? This job could be a little more predictable for my liking too.”

  I opened the slider and let Bandit o
ut while I changed into the kind of casual clothes people from that neighborhood probably wore. Even though Lutz thought the shooter moved from location to location and likely wasn’t watching the first crime scene anymore, we could never be too careful. The killer had already proven he meant business when he took the lives of six good cops.

  A quick sandwich would hold me over, and I’d eat it as I drove. I made a cup of instant coffee—used only in emergencies—and poured it into a travel mug. I had only fifteen minutes at home before it was time to turn around and head back to the station. With my band T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans on, I grabbed my Chicago Cubs ball cap, brought Bandit in the house, and reached for my sandwich and coffee. I was out the door in twelve minutes.

  Back at the Wentworth station, ten of us sat at the conference room table with Lutz at the head. In attendance were every day shift detective—Mills, Murray, Adams, Potter, Johnson, and myself—and from the night shift, Roberts, King, and Gaines. Phelps was on vacation.

  At his back, Lutz had an enlarged map of the crime scene neighborhood printed out and pinned to the corkboard. It looked like the aerial view went out a good eight blocks in every direction, and the map came in handy as we planned which buildings we would focus on south to southeast of the crime scene.

  Henry wiped the banana-nut muffin crumbs off his mouth with the napkin then stood. He walked to the map. “We need to search the taller buildings on East Forty-Eighth Street and East Forty-Eighth Place that have windows or balconies facing north to northwest.”

  Mills counted the windows in the two-block area. “Between the second- and third-floor apartments in all those buildings, it looks to be around sixty to seventy units.”

  I nodded. “That’s doable with all of us pitching in. Take note if anyone seems unusually nervous or uncooperative, and we’ll follow up with warrants for their apartments later.”