how I got the name of the person who rented the car, he gives me a look of grudging admiration, but says nothing. Then I tell him about our trip to Stateville Prison, our talk with Dilles, our discovery that the only visitor Dilles ever had was his lawyer, Connor Smith, and how Hurley figured out that the name Leon Lindquist is an anagram of Quinton Dilles.
My story is somewhat convoluted and I feel like I’m leaving a lot of loose ends hanging, but if Richmond is confused by any of it, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps taking notes and listening.
I explain how Hurley dropped me off at his friend’s house and then headed for Chicago to talk to Smith. Finally Richmond halts my story to ask questions.
“How did you leave there if Hurley took his car?”
Looking abashed, I explain how I took Carl Withers’s car and watch as Richmond sighs and shakes his head.
“You stole the man’s car?” he says, looking chagrined.
“I’d call it more of a borrow,” I say, wincing.
He shakes his head again and says, “Continue.”
I tell him how I saw the cops with Hurley and ask how they caught him.
“We had a BOLO out for him and his car,” Richmond explains. “An alert statey saw the car, matched the plate to our BOLO, and pulled Hurley over.”
“I see.” I realize then that it might have been fortuitous that Hurley left me behind. Otherwise neither of us would have made it to Chicago and I never would have uncovered the information I did. Of course, it might also have meant that Trina would still be alive and well.
I move on to tell him about my meeting with Smith, and the subsequent discussion I had with Trina afterward. Then I tell him how the poor woman was run down.
“So you’re wanted by the Chicago police at this point?” he asks, looking worried.
I shrug. “I suppose. But all I did was avoid making a statement. I’m pretty sure they don’t think I had anything to do with her attack.”
“These e-mails the woman gave you, what did they say?” he asks.
“I don’t know. I never had a chance to read them.” I dig the papers out of my pocket and hand them to him. “Trina said they contained evidence that Smith was communicating with Mike Ackerman. I know Hurley seems pretty convinced that Dilles is behind all this, but I like Mike Ackerman for it. Though there is one other mitigating factor.”
“What’s that?”
“Trina said Smith was having an affair with Dilles’s wife right before she was killed.”
Richmond sets his pen down and runs his fingers through his hair. “So I’m confused. You’re saying that both Dilles and Ackerman have connections to this lawyer . . .” He pauses and flips through his notebook but I fill the blank in for him.
“Connor Smith.”
“Yeah, okay. But you don’t think any of them committed the murders.”
“No, for the same reason Hurley couldn’t have done it. They’re all too tall. I believe Izzy shared his findings with you, that the person who stabbed Callie was most likely short and left-handed.”
“Yeah, but that’s theory, not conclusive evidence.”
“But there’s more.” I then explain to him my theory about the size of the murderer, mentioning the position of the seat in Callie’s car, the size of the window in my basement and how much trouble I had getting through it, Hurley’s description of the height of the man who tried to abduct me. Then I realize that the burns from the Taser are on the left side of my neck, which would make sense if the person who came up behind me was left- handed.
I start to add this fact to my litany but Richmond gets up from his chair and says, “Stay here. I need to make some phone calls.”
Chapter 44
While I’m waiting, Heidi pops her head in and asks me if I’d like something to eat while I’m waiting, stating that there is some leftover pizza in the break room. I thank her and accept the offer, and a few minutes later she brings me two slices of nuked pizza. After scrubbing the blood remnants from my hands, I scarf the pizza down in near record time, surprised at how hungry I am.
Once I’m done eating, exhaustion sets in. It’s as if my body has completely shut down, drained of all energy by the many doses of adrenaline that have coursed through it in the past few days.
When Richmond finally returns nearly an hour later, it’s all I can do to keep my eyes open.
“You look tired,” he says.
“I am.”
“I read those e-mails you had and unfortunately they aren’t what I hoped.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Smith and his cohorts are always very careful to word things in a way that leaves the meaning very ambiguous and open to interpretation. Though they are suggestive of something going on between Ackerman and Smith, they don’t point a finger at anyone or anything specific.”
“Great,” I say, dejected.
“Don’t give up all hope. The fact that the two men exchanged e-mails at all is suspicious, given that they both have ties to Hurley. So I talked to some cops down in Chicago and they’re going to bring both men in for questioning.”
“Thank you for that.”
He shrugs it off. “It’s a start, but if what you’re telling me is true, we still have a perpetrator out there somewhere who committed these crimes. And until we can figure out who that is, I think you should be in protective custody.”
“Is that a nice way of telling me you’re going to put me in jail?” Though I should probably be upset by the idea, I’m not. All I care about at the moment is having somewhere to lie down so I can sleep.
“No, I’m not going to arrest you. But I’m not letting you go home, either. If someone tried to abduct you once they may try again, so for now we’re going to put you up in a room at the Sorenson Motel with a twenty-four-hour police guard.”
“That’s fine.” As long as I can have access to a shower and a bed, I don’t care where he puts me. “Did the cops say anything about Trina?” I ask, saying a silent prayer that she’s doing okay.
“They did,” Richmond says. “She’s still in surgery but they said it looks like she’s going to survive. And thanks to you, they think she’ll still have her leg.”
“Thank God,” I say. “Can I drive myself over to the motel?” I ask him.
“No, I’m going to have an officer take you.”
“What about Carl Withers’s car?”
“You can leave it here for now,” he says. “We’ll figure out how to get it back where it belongs later. Sit tight for a few more minutes and I’ll get someone to drive you to the motel.”
Richmond leaves the room and as I’m sitting there, I remember that I have Hurley’s gun stashed under the seat in Withers’s car. I don’t want to leave it there for two reasons: one, if it’s found, it may get me into more trouble, and two, I don’t want it to mysteriously disappear. I get up and head to the front of the station. Heidi smiles at me and says, “Ron Colbert will be here in a few minutes to take you to the motel.”
“That’s great,” I say. “I’m going to run out front real quick and lock up my car,” I tell her. “Be right back.”
Though I’m afraid she might try to stop me, she doesn’t; she simply nods. I hurry out to the car before Richmond can figure out what I’m doing, unlock it, and reach under the seat for the gun and the clip. I pull them out, then stand there a minute, stymied about where to put them. The holster makes the gun much more bulky so I remove it and stuff it back under the seat. Then I put the gun and the clip in my jacket pocket.
No sooner am I done than I hear Richmond’s voice behind me. “Mattie, what the hell are you doing out
