“Hang on,” Wyatt said to himself. “Northbrook is an expensive suburb to live in; this guy’s business must be extremely lucrative to be able to afford a house there.” He looked up the details of the bar that he owned, and he saw that the bar grossed around $330,000 per year. “That’s a fair amount, but I don’t know if he would be able to take enough from that to be able to support a home in that area,” Wyatt looked up if he had vehicles registered under his name, and he saw that he had a G-Wagon and a Ford Contour registered.
“Together, those vehicles would easily exceed $170,000. So, what do you do, Mr. Rose, to afford these types of expensive luxuries?” Wyatt said to himself and took a sip of his beer. Wyatt pulled out his phone and dialed Wilcox’s number, and he answered on the third ring.
“Hey Wyatt, what’s up?”
“I hope I didn’t wake you, Robert,” Wyatt said.
“Wake me?” Wilcox laughed. “I’m still at the office.”
“You know you do need to sleep at some point, right?” Wyatt remarked.
“Yeah, when my work is finished,” Wilcox smirked back.
“Is there any news on the DNA from the hair found on Martin’s body?” Wyatt cut to the chase.
“No, the results came back, but it didn’t match anyone in the system. So, we’ll have to start getting DNA samples from possible suspects, but the list is quite long with him being a dick and the son of a politician: it’s kind of a long shot.”
“Listen Robert, I don’t know if my sister is somehow involved in this,” Wyatt whispered into the phone.
“Seriously, you think Ness is capable of something like that?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore, but I tracked her vehicle to an address today that makes absolutely no sense.”
“What do you mean?” Wilcox asked. “Her car was parked at 397 Riverview Road, Northbrook. The house belongs to Edward Rose. He’s a 54-year-old bar owner.”
“The owner of Eddie’s Bar,” Wilcox commented quickly.
“Yeah, how did you know that?” Wyatt frowned.
“It’s one of the places that Henry Martin used to frequent regularly. I was actually going to head to the bar later today to ask if anyone had seen Martin recently,” Wilcox said.
“Well, that isn’t coincidental at all.” Wyatt said, facetiously worried.
“There’s no such thing, mate. Maybe there is something going on here. How do you want me to handle it?” Wilcox asked.
“Carry on with the investigation, Robert. We can’t make decisions based on ‘what-ifs.’” Wyatt said.
“I’ll let you know what I find out,” Wilcox said as he hung up.
Wyatt stood up and walked to the window overlooking the street with his beer in his hand. He took a few large sips. He was very worried of the outcome of this investigation because there was something deep inside of him that was almost certain that Ness was responsible for Martin’s murder.
17
Even with the lights of Chicago, the night seemed to be getting progressively darker as Eddie and Ness drove along the freeway returning to the apartment block on West 33rd Street. Ness remained quiet as they drove because she was still working through several details in her mind. She inhaled deeply. The previous high from killing Jones was quickly dissipating, and she was starting to feel absolutely exhausted. Combined with the stress of setting a trap for two more victims, Ness was starting to feel overwhelmed.
“Are you alright? You’re looking rather pale. And I can even see that in the dark,” Eddie asked, concerned.
“Yeah, just feeling tired,” Ness yawned.
“The stress will do that to you,” Eddie passed her bottle of water from the back seat.
“Drink this, it will help you feel better.”
Ness downed the bottle, and she could feel the coolness of the water revitalize her. “Thanks, that helped.”
“Good—because we’re here,” Eddie parked across the street. Because of the late hour, there was hardly anyone about, and those who were weren’t the types of people to intentionally cross paths with others. “Let’s go.”
Eddie and Ness half jogged back to the fire exit door. “Is the alarm still disengaged?” Ness asked.
“It should be, but I’ll still run the scrambler to be safe,” Eddie answered and attached the scrambler to the wires that he stripped earlier—the door popped open. “After you. This is your plan, after all,” Eddie whispered, and Ness led the way up the stairs.
When they reached the fifth floor, Ness peered through the window and could see that there was no one in the corridor. “Let’s go,” Ness said, but she could feel Eddie’s hand on her arm.
“How do you intend on getting back into the apartment?” Eddie whispered.
“Didn’t you bring your lock-picking set?” Ness gave him a look. “Hey, this is your plan, so how are you going to get into the apartment?
Ness smiled and dug in her pocket. She removed a key and held it up, “This is how.”
Where did you get that?” Eddie looked genuinely perplexed.
“I took it off Jones’ bunch of keys earlier before we left, just in case we needed it again.”
Eddie looked impressed, “Clever girl.”
Ness smiled and walked toward the apartment. She peered around the corner to see if it was still clear on the other side and—once she was satisfied that no one was around—she continued. She placed the key into the lock and unlocked the door. They were assaulted by the smell of blood and urine, and Ness had to cover her nose when they walked
