Shattered Lives (9 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Brookfield, Wisconsin

             
George’s version of shopping was to go to the trading post located in Teec Nos Pas, the small town of about 800 people, mostly Navajo that was near where he and his family lived.  It was where he, his brother William and his grandfather sold the wool from their sheep, and was in fact the only place on the entire Navajo reservation that took in wool.  Until the FBI flew him to Wisconsin, he had never been off the Navajo Indian Reservation, so going to the Brookfield Square Mall was an experience like none he had had in his life.  It was one fantastical shop after another. 

When Billy, Randy and Danny pulled him into Dick’s Sporting Goods, he marveled at the racks of clothes, baseball bats, baseballs and mitts.  He spied soccer balls, softballs, basketballs and footballs.  He gaped at tents, kayaks and canoes.  They dragged him to the back of the store where there were more shoes on the wall and on tables than he ever saw in his entire fourteen years of life. 

After spending a good amount of time and money, at least by George’s standards anyway, perhaps by anyone’s standards, they next went to Penney’s and Kohl’s.  He tried on jeans and slacks, polo shirts and sweatshirts, and picked out boxers, socks and a jacket. 

They came out of the store, laden down with bags of merchandize and Jeff greeted them, and pointed them towards a western wear store he had spied while taking a walk to a Verizon store. 

George felt most at home in this store.  He selected a new belt with a bronze eagle buckle, some button down short and long-sleeved shirts, and a new pair of leather cowboy boots.  Billy wanted him to get a new Stetson, but George was comfortable with the white cowboy hat he had.  It was a bit beat up and stained, but it was his, given to him by his mother several years ago.  He viewed a new Stetson as unnecessary.

After shopping at the mall for just over two hours and after grabbing lunch in the food court, they stopped at a Best Buy to purchase a laptop and case, and a cell phone.  The Verizon guy explained to Jeff that because George lived in a desert, a sat phone would be the only device that would work effectively.  They didn’t have any available, but he suggested that Best Buy did and that Verizon could be the plan provider, and that worked for Jeff.  He decided on just an iPhone 5 like the cell phones Danny and the twins had until he, Jeremy and George knew for sure where he would live.

George had no idea how to use the phone or the computer, but the boys explained that they’d have time during the trip to teach him. 

Randy said, “A lot of it you learn to do as you play with it.”

Jeff drove the boys back home to pack up George’s clothes and other belongings and pick up some smaller items that Randy and Billy were going to take along.  After a once-through to make sure windows were shut and locked, faucets turned off and the air-conditioning up to a warm seventy-four degrees, the house was locked up and the boys walked next door to say goodbye to Jon and Bert.

              George did his best to keep his emotions in check, but as hard as he tried, a few tears still leaked from his eyes.

              “We hope to see you in a couple of weeks, but if not, promise you’d come visit us, okay?” Bert said with both of her hands gently caressing George’s cheeks.

              George nodded.

              “We’ll see you, Son,” Jon said quietly with an embrace that he held George in for a moment or two. “Know you’re always welcome.”

              George nodded solemnly. 

They loaded up Jeff Limbach’s black Chevy Suburban and waved goodbye.  Billy rode shotgun with George and Randy sitting in the backseat at each door, and Danny between them.

George hadn’t been in a big city before, and rode with his face pressed against the window staring out at the gray landscape of tall buildings and asphalt, of cars, trucks and busses passing by or getting passed as they traveled east on I-894.  Every now and then, he was pulled back into the vehicle when one of the boys or Jeff asked a question, but he always went back to the window marveling at the stark difference between his homeland and the city.

              And this was just Milwaukee.

              The weather changed as they drove south on I-94 from blue and sunny to gray and misty.  The desert didn’t have much rain, so even this amazed George. 

When they got into Chicago, he not only stared out the window, but looked up through the sunroof gazing at the tall steel structures that seemed to block out the clouds and the sky.

              Noticing the innocent amazement and the awe on George’s face, Jeff decided to make a side trip before heading to the hospital where he and the boys were to meet up with Jeff.

              Better known as the Sears Tower, the Willis Tower, its real name, was the tallest building in North America.  It boasted of a 104 car elevator system in three zones that took a person from the ground floor to the pinnacle at the speed of a bungee jump in reverse.

              At floor 103, there was a four foot glass walkout.  The boys watched as groups of fearless family members stepped onto it to get their pictures taken.  When it was their turn, Billy tentatively ventured onto the platform first, followed by George, Danny and Randy, while Jeff snapped their pictures.  Then it was Randy’s turn to take a picture of Jeff and Danny.               

None of them realized that the Sears Tower or the trip to Brookfield Square Mall would not be what they would remember about this day.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Chicago, Illinois

             
At first they stared at Cochrane as if he were speaking Chinese.  They just stared at him.  After a moment or two, Skip broke the silence.

              “What did you say?”

              Cochrane sat down, ran a hand through his hair and said, “Bosch and Rawson are dead.  They were murdered in jail.”

              Silence.  Eye blinks.  Throats cleared.  Kelliher began to write something on his legal pad but stopped and set his pen down and folded his hands in front of him like a principal about to lecture a recalcitrant youth.  Cochrane was the one responsible for placing Bosch and Rawson in Cook County Jail rather than Danville Prison like Kelliher had suggested.  The move would have been unusual, but unusual was modis operandi for Kelliher and Storm.

              “Let me get Summer and Chet back in here,” Dandridge said curtly.

He punched the sound off the phone on the other end, and Kelliher could only presume he was getting his secretary to get in touch with the two agents.  Perhaps cursing.  A lot.

              Summer Storm was the field team leader of Kiddie Corps, and more importantly, was partner to Kelliher, though technically his boss.  She and Kelliher had planned the raids that freed the kids, and Summer, along with Chet Walker, the team techie and youngest member of the team, and Waukesha Police Captain Jack O’Brien, they had confronted Bosch, Rawson and Davis in a hotel restaurant. 

Summer got her name because she was born in the backseat of a station wagon in a raging thunderstorm somewhere between Crete and Lincoln, Nebraska.  Her parents first thought of Hailey, but settled on Summer because they liked the way it sounded: Summer Storm.  Given a choice when she was recruited by the FBI out of law school at Louisville, she chose Kiddie Corps because, as she told her parents, she wanted to do some good and make a difference.  Of course just being in the FBI had made her parents proud. 

              Chet had red hair and freckles and was, until Skip Dahlke joined up, the youngest member of the team.  Rumor had it that he could hack into everything and that anyone was fair game. More importantly, he could do it without detection. A quieter rumor was that Chet was recruited because he was a hacker.  However, that was never confirmed, but only speculated about, and if that was true, perhaps he could be detected, but again, just speculation.

              “Short version,” Kelliher said quietly, “what happened?”

              Before Cochrane could begin, Dandridge came back on and checked to make sure MB Wilkey was still with them.

              “I’m here,” she said quietly.

Kelliher thought he had detected anger, but not knowing her, he didn’t know for sure.

              “Hi, Everyone,” Summer said quietly.

Pete recognized her anger right away, but no one else did.

              “Cochrane, what happened?” Dandridge asked abruptly.

              “Bosch was found in his cell with his throat slit, and Rawson was found stabbed multiple times in a restroom.  Both sometime this morning,” Cochrane said.  “I’m having them pull the tapes, and I’ll head over there when we’re done here.”

              Silence.  Looks exchanged. 

              “This can’t be coincidence,” Wilkey said from Indianapolis.  “Pressman, Bosch and Rawson killed on the same day?”

              Almost in unison, Kelliher and Storm said, “No such thing as coincidence.”  It was the mantra of their partnership. 

              “If these aren’t coincidences, and I don’t for a minute believe they are,” Wilkey said, “then someone is working on their list.”

              “What list?” Cochrane asked.

              Ignoring him, Skip said, “Then we need to figure out who else is on that list,” Skip said added, “in a hurry.”

              “My list hasn’t changed,” Kelliher said.

              “Neither has mine,” Jeremy said.

              Before Summer asked Pete and Jeremy to read their lists, Dandridge said angrily, “Cochrane, get over to that jail and secure the tapes and get them to Chet.  He’ll be wheels up in thirty minutes so send them in a video link.  You can do
that
can’t you?”

              Cochrane looked up from his notes.  He caught Skip’s glance, but just as quickly, Skip lowered his eyes back down.  No one else looked in Cochrane’s direction.

              “Cochrane, did you hear me?”

              “Yes, Sir.  I’ll leave now unless you need me to stay until the call is over.”

              “Now!” Dandridge said forcefully.

              When Cochrane left the room and shut the door behind him, Dandridge swore, and then swore again.

              “Summer, what’s your role on this?” Kelliher asked.

              “I’m overseeing your team and the Rapid Response Team.  I’m leaving the decisions to you but keep me in the loop.”

              Kelliher nodded.

              “Pete, keep me in the loop too,” Dandridge said tiredly, calming down a little. “Skip, I need you to work your magic in Indianapolis.  You, Chet and Wilkey have to find Dominico, and until we do, there are too many people at risk, and that includes kids and families.”

              “MB, keep me posted on what’s going on there,” Kelliher said. “And take good care of Skip and Chet.”

              “Will do.”

              “Pete, what’s your plan?” Summer asked.

              He shook his head and looked at Jeremy.

              “Hell if I know,” he said tiredly.  “I’m going to wrap up here and then follow Skip to Indianapolis.  Jeremy and I are going to have to warn the kids and the families.  I’ll get a hold of Graff and O’Brien in Waukesha and set up surveillance in Indianapolis ... probably Waukesha too.”

              There was a sharp wrap on the door, and Dr. Blaine Flasch entered.  He was pale and sweaty and looked disheveled and unkempt, very unlike the doctor they knew him to be.

              “Sorry for the interruption,” Flasch started. “But I felt I needed to tell you right away.”

              “Tell us what?” Kelliher said.

              “Robert Manville, the police officer on the second floor...” he paused.  “He died.”

              “What?” Kelliher asked sharply. “I thought he was going to be okay.”

              “He was, and that’s what I don’t understand, yet,” the doctor said. “But that’s not all.”

              “What?” Kelliher said, getting up from his chair.

Jeremy rose too, wondering if something had happened to one of the boys.

              “The officer that was posted outside his door is missing.  No one has seen him since a little before noon.”

The room went quiet.  No one said a word, and it seemed that no one had even breathed.  Jeremy’s mind was racing, his mind working like a cop’s.

“Either he’s the killer . . .”

“Or a victim,” Pete finished for him.  “Tom, if you don’t mind, I’d like Skip to do a once-over in Manville’s room.  I don’t expect him to find anything, but I’d like him to look just in case.  Is that okay with you?”

              “Yes,” Dandridge said deep in thought. “Skip, make it quick and then get down to Indianapolis.”

              “Yessir.”

              “Do you and Jeremy need any help in Chicago?” Summer asked.

              “Not sure what we need right now,” Kelliher answered. “Summer, I’ll keep you posted.”

              At that, the call ended, and Pete, Skip and Jeremy began moving.