She left Payton a message, the only words she could manage. And after a long moment, she hung up the phone and stared at the family photo in her hand.
Even amidst a crowd, she had never felt so alone.
Chicago
6:35 A.M. CST
With the veil of night lifted, the overcast sky shed its dull pewter glow along a landscape of urban sprawl. The dismal smell of rain made the air muggy. Normally, mornings like this would have challenged Sam to leave the comfort of her bed—an everyday occurrence if she lived in Jess’s hood. She turned off the Stevenson Expressway onto Cicero Avenue going south. Jess had barely said a word the whole trip, no doubt her mind entrenched in her next moves, if Sam knew her friend.
And she did.
“Did you hear what I said about Baker? He’s a snitch for one of the detectives in Vice. Unless he blatantly breaks the law and gets caught doing it, we won’t be able to touch him, Jessie.”
Sam heard the word “we” come out of her own mouth and hoped Jess would ignore it. Too much to hope for.
“Don’t worry, Sam.
After a long moment of silence, Jessie added, “He’s probably only getting rid of his competition by ratting them out. I’d say the guy is vermin on two legs, but I wouldn’t want to insult the rat population.”
Sam had to agree with her assessment. No way she’d have someone like Baker as a snitch. She would have picked another way to obtain information off the streets. The guy didn’t deserve the Get Out of Jail card the CPD had reluctantly granted him. She gripped the steering wheel and stared out the windshield, unsure what to say next.
Under the rumble of Midway Airport, just southwest of downtown, the normally bustling thoroughfare was quiet by comparison to what it would be in an hour. Commercial fast food, gas stations, and minimarts lined the avenue, crammed in and competing for space. In her mind, the exhaust fumes of the heavily traveled street and the annoying roar of the flight path of a busy airport created a mix of sights and sounds that had all the aesthetic appeal of a greasy oil slick. The marginal businesses choked out the small homes and apartment complexes, casting a dingy pallor across the older residential neighborhood.
Totally depressing.
“Things never change here in paradise.”
Sam couldn’t resist the jab as she pulled into an apartment parking lot off the main drag and headed for an empty slot marked for visitors near the rental office. A small two-story complex had been converted from an old motel into apartments. Oatmeal gray paint peeled off the exterior walls, suffering from an overdose of neglect. The only color in a sea of apathy, gang signs were painted across the rusted metal mailboxes located near the door of the rental office, right under the nose of an indifferent management.
“Yeah, I pinch myself every day.”
“What? Hoping you wake up from your self-inflicted nightmare?”
Her sarcasm didn’t get a rise out of Jess, but they’d had this argument before. And she was in no mood to rehash it.
“You okay for money? ’Cause I can—”
“Don’t…” Jess interrupted. “Please don’t say it. I don’t need money.”
Sam caught the flinch of her jaw, and Jess crossed her arms, looking as if she hurt, on the outside and in.
“It’s just that Baker is not a bail jumper. Unless you know something I don’t, you won’t earn a dime from chasing his miserable ass. You’re fixated on him, and I’m…I’m worried about you, that’s all.”
“I’ve got my reasons, Sam. And sometimes it’s not about money. I thought you got that.”
She definitely got it. She wasn’t going to retire early on what she made as a cop, but she couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
“I do, Jessie,” she muttered under her breath. “I do get it.”
She parked the car but kept the engine running, figuring Jess had seen enough of her company. She often wondered why Jess had chosen an apartment in this neighborhood when she could afford to live elsewhere. If pressed for an answer, she believed her friend had convinced herself she didn’t deserve better. A reflection of a low self-esteem that had been thrust upon her, a feeling that Jess couldn’t outrun or overcome.
Maybe her choice had been a form of penance, a self-inflicted punishment because she thought she didn’t deserve any better. Or her matchbox existence provided the bare minimum roof over her head at a cheap price. Either way, Sam knew that living here would be a self-fulfilling prophecy for Jess. Her surroundings would wear her down, whether she realized it or not, like a hostile subliminal message.
To live with the dark memories of the abuse she had survived, Jess focused on eradicating those who preyed on the weak, one two-legged vermin at a time. Sam understood this, but some days her friend’s antics were harder to accept, like living in a low rent dump and shunning anyone who got too close. And even though Jess invested all her energy into the pursuit of her worthy mission in life, she lived in complete denial that she was part of the walking wounded.
“Why are you still living here?” Sam asked. “This place is a dump.”
“You know me. The price was right. I’m saving up for that summer home on the lake.” Jess opened the car door, a sad, distant smile on her face, but she didn’t move. Instead, she turned toward Sam as if she read her thoughts. “Besides, you know how much I love the cozy atmosphere.”
To punctuate her cynicism, a jet bellowed overhead, nearly drowning out her words.
“Yeah, this place is a real gem.” Sam smirked and raised an eyebrow.
Even as tired as Jess looked, she broke down into a smile that turned to a soft chuckle, her unfailing humor another quality Sam admired.
“Come up for coffee, sista,” her friend offered. “Being grilled by the cops always makes me hungry. If you sweet-talk me, I might rustle up some breakfast for both of us.”
“No sweet-talking required. Somebody’s got to patch you up.” Sam grimaced. “Of course, all this comes after you take a shower. Did I say you smell like a college frat house?”
“Now I
With a grin, Sam turned off the ignition and followed Jess to a place she knew all too well. Her friend trudged up metal stairs to the second floor landing and headed toward the back of the complex. Her apartment was down and to the right, a unit overlooking a narrow alley and a commercial storage enterprise. She wondered if Jess got a discount for the crappy view.
But as they rounded the corner, Jess stopped Sam cold, thrusting a hand across her body, holding her back.
Her front door gaped wide, busted open, splintered at the lock. Jess nodded and kept her silence as she reached for the gun she kept holstered at the small of her back.
Sam pulled her Glock 17 and shoved Jess behind her, a cop performing her duty. The move irritated her friend, but there would be no argument. Sam inched closer to the doorway and peered into the dark with weapon raised. She listened for any noise that told her the intruder was still inside, but the damned airport and traffic along Cicero Avenue made that impossible.
Staying low, Sam made a quick move across the threshold to get to the other side of the doorway. Facing Jess, she caught her friend’s eye and gave her silent instructions, letting her know she’d take the lead and Jess would follow.
Peering into the shadows inside, Sam rushed through the door with weapon drawn and Jess at her shoulder. But the sight of the room snatched her next breath.
CHAPTER 4
A shambles.
