

## Wrong Exit

Nick Stryker Series, Book Four

The Shallow End Gals

Teresa Duncan

Vicki Graybosch

Linda McGregor

Kimberly Troutman

The Characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or coincidence.

Copyright, Vicki Graybosch 2016

All rights reserved

Printed in the United States of America

Copyrighted Material

ISBN-10:1540726002

ISBN-13:978-1540726001

Publisher: PJ Publishing

Editing: Debra Haight

Cover Picture: Linda McGregor

The New Orleans Series

Alcohol Was Not Involved

Book One of Trilogy

Extreme Heat Warning

Book Two of Trilogy

Silent Crickets

Book Three of Trilogy

Catahoula

Book Four of Series

****************

The Nick Stryker Series:

Cusp of Crazy, Book One

Twisted, Book Two

Zero Margin, Book Three

Wrong Exit, Book Four

A very special thank you to:

Michael Sutherland

Sheryl Noland

Susan Weaver

Brian Scribner, Executive Director of Southwestern Michigan Community Ambulance Service for his expertise and technical contribution.

List of characters at the end of the book

# CHAPTER 1

J.T. Barrimore sipped on a scotch, his large frame melting into the leather of the back corner booth of the strip club. Tinted glass walls segregated the V.I.P. section, muting the music from the stage and the jeers of the patrons. J.T. sat alone in the dimly lit corner contemplating the deal he was about to make.

The staff kept a sharp eye on him in case he signaled that he needed something. J.T. was the controlling partner of the establishment but rarely visited. His security company had installed state of the art equipment that ensured a steady supply of useful blackmail material. J.T. quickly disabled the microphone and camera in his booth for tonight's meeting. Tonight, he needed to determine if Derrick Sanford was a crazed madman, a genius, or both.

A middle-aged man with thinning, dull grey hair stepped into the dark expanse of the club from the brightly lit entrance hall. J.T. immediately recognized him from his photos; Dr. Derrick Sanford, research scientist in psychology, artificial intelligence and a computer technologist. He was the owner of Sanford Enterprises, an obscure company that catered to a limited client base. Rounded shoulders and a forward jutting head made him look much older than his 50 years. J.T. spoke to the club's security guard through his earbud and directed him to escort Dr. Sanford over.

Derrick flinched as the security guard patted him down. His expression changed to annoyance as a handheld scanner was swiped over his body. Finally, the security guard escorted him to the V.I.P. section and J.T.'s private booth. His dark brown suit was badly in need of a fresh press. The light blue shirt was adorned with a narrow brown tie and a simple gold clip. As Derrick adjusted and re-buttoned his suit jacket, a pair of black framed eye glasses peeked from the breast pocket of his shirt.

Derrick's grey eyes darted quickly to the stage and back to glance over J.T.'s considerable muscular frame. He managed a limp handshake with J.T.'s ham-sized hand and ordered a glass of water with lemon. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. In every way imaginable he was out of his element.

J.T. got right to business. "I've been doing a little research of my own, Doc. It seems the conventional wisdom is that you can't hypnotize someone to do something they wouldn't already be predisposed to do." J. T. stuck a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and leaned forward. "This seems to be in direct contrast to the premise of your research and your claims about this program."

The question relaxed Derrick as he was expecting it. "That is the prevailing scientific theory. It serves quite nicely to protect my programs from discovery. I dare say that even the U.S. government's experiments in mind control have deemed hypnosis unreliable."

"If we're to do business, I'll need proof that your program actually works, and I want at least a layman explanation of how it works."

Derrick had dreaded this moment. He knew that he would have to explain his program to sell it, but he didn't want to give away his secrets to someone he didn't trust. "I find myself in a quandary, Mr. Barrimore. I hesitate to reveal too much about the mechanics of my program at this time. I do, however, understand your need for proof that it indeed will work. Perhaps we can devise a beta test that will ease your concerns?"

J.T. slowly shook his head. "For three million dollars you're going to explain to me how this works. You'll provide me a broad description now, and train my people on the details if I purchase. Tonight, we'll discuss a beta test. I took the liberty of designing one."

Derrick sighed. "Your request is reasonable." He lowered his voice and leaned closer. "I designed a phone app that connects a parasite program to my host program for learning the Mandarin language. This is an extensive program that is a recognized leader in the industry and has received numerous academic awards. This seemed a simple way to filter my test group to professionals that would stay engaged for long periods of time.

"When people register to purchase the app, I use that registration information to research their bios. Certain psychological indicators ensure they are a viable candidate for the parasite program enhancements. If I select them for my project group, each time they log into the software thereafter, a more aggressive layer of suggestive audio and video messages begin to embed in their subconscious. Once they have progressed through the entire course I can trigger dissociative episodes where the candidate will follow video commands. They will have no memory of what they have done and what's more important, no conscious resistance to doing anything suggested."

J.T smiled. "I want a beta test that I can verify. Do you have candidates that are ready?"

Derrick smiled. "Yes, I have three that are ready now and another dozen or so nearly finished."

J.T. pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. "First, send me the profiles of the three candidates that are ready for the test. Read this and tell me if you can have this done tomorrow morning."

Derrick read the slip of paper and looked up. "I understand why you have designed a test of this nature. Certainly this is not something most people would willingly do. Are you quite sure there will be no negative consequences to us in light of the target you have chosen?"

J.T. smiled. "The target is not your concern."

******

9:00 a.m. Monday morning

Detective Jen Taylor of the 107th precinct looked up and saw a young woman enter the homicide room and glance around. Jen stood and walked toward her. The woman's eyes were rimmed in red and she held a wad of tissues tightly to the center of her chest. Her black shoulder bag strap had dropped to her elbow and the large purse hung past her knees.

Jen asked, "Can I help you? I'm Detective Taylor."

The woman burst into tears. "I'm here to confess to a murder."

Jen glanced toward Detective Wayne Dunfee who was now giving the woman his full attention.

Jen touched the woman's elbow and guided her to take a seat across from her desk.

The woman struggled to maintain her composure.

Jen pushed a box of tissue towards her, flipped her pad to a fresh report form and asked, "What's your name?"

"Cynthia Bronson." She dabbed at her nose with a tissue and added, "I go by Cindy."

"Cindy, who did you murder?"

Cindy took a deep breath and sighed, "Detective Nick Stryker."

Jen's heart stopped for a moment. Nick was her partner at homicide and probably her best friend. Jen and Wayne exchanged shocked expressions.

"When? How?" Jen's voice cracked, she couldn't even form an intelligent sentence.

Wayne was busy on his cell trying to reach Nick. He looked over at Jen and shook his head.

Jen repeated, "When did you kill him? Why?"

Cindy raised a tissue to her nose and answered, "I think it was last night. I know it was dark outside. I shot him and put the gun in a dumpster." Cindy began sobbing uncontrollably.

Wayne kept dialing Nick. It was only 9:00 a.m. and Nick often made stops before coming into the precinct.

Jen fought to keep from crying. She could barely talk. Her throat felt closed off by a softball sized lump. Her instinct was to leap over the desk and beat Cindy to a bloody pulp.

"Why did you shoot Nick?"

Cindy stared at Jen quizzically for a moment. "I don't know why. I don't even know who he is."

Jen nearly fainted when Nick walked into the room, winked at Jen and took a seat at his desk. Wayne and Jen glanced at each other in shock.

Jen touched Cindy's hand that was resting on the desk and pointed to Nick. "That's Detective Nick Stryker. You must have killed someone else."

Nick heard Jen's last sentence and turned his head to look at Cindy. Cindy slowly turned her head to look at Nick.

She gasped, "Yes! That's him!"

Wayne shook his head as he walked to the door to greet a man who had just entered the room. He looked professional. Wayne guessed his suit must have cost at least a thousand dollars so he clearly wasn't from headquarters.

The man asked Wayne, "Is this the Homicide Division?"

Wayne answered, "Yes. What can I do for you?"

The man straightened his shoulders and said, "I'm here to confess to a murder."

Wayne glanced at Jen and then back at the man. "Follow me." Wayne walked the man past Jen's desk and pointed to the seat across from his own. "Here, take a seat."

Wayne waited for the man to sit. He noticed the man's hands were shaking as he dabbed sweat from his brow with a hankie.

Wayne asked, "Who did you murder?"

"A man named Nick Stryker."

Nick, Wayne and Jen exchanged glances. Nick leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on his lap. He signaled Wayne to continue.

Wayne asked the man, "What's your name?"

"Peter Jarvis. I work at the stock exchange." Peter sighed, "I think I need a lawyer."

Wayne raised an eyebrow and pointed at Nick. "Does that man over there look familiar?"

Peter turned to look at Nick. "My God! That's him! How could this be?"

Jen pointed at Cynthia, "She killed him first."

A very large woman walked into the homicide room moaning and wiping tears. Her cleavage was stuffed with tissues. The hem of her cotton print dress fell well below her knees and she clutched a Bible tightly in her fist.

She took one look at Nick, screamed "Sweet Jesus" and fainted.

Detective Sam Flores walked into the room just as the big woman fainted. He and Nick ran over and helped her to a sitting position.

Sam asked Nick, "What happened?"

Nick answered, "She thinks I'm a ghost."

Sam always accused Nick of never answering a question straight. "You want to try that again?"

Nick pointed over to Jen and Wayne's desks and said, "Both of those people came in this morning and confessed to murdering me. I think that's why she's here, too."

Sam and Nick helped the woman to stand and guided her to sit at Sam's desk.

Sam mumbled, "Mondays. I hate Mondays."

Nick watched as all three answered questions and nervously glanced toward him. Eventually they were all taken to separate interrogation rooms. Jen returned after about twenty minutes and signaled Nick to follow her to the breakroom.

She leaned against the counter and said, "This is bizarre. Why would three people walk in here at virtually the same time and confess to killing you? They don't know you, they don't know each other, they don't know why they did it."

Jen poured herself a cup of coffee as she updated Nick on the interrogations. Sam was interviewing Dolly Weston, a librarian. Wayne was interviewing Peter Jarvis, a stock broker and she was interviewing Cynthia Bronson, a local artist.

Nick asked, "They all have a memory of shooting me somewhere in a dark alley and throwing the gun into a dumpster?"

"Yep. None of them can say where this alley might be."

"Why me, did they say?"

Jen shook her head, "They don't know. They're all positive about your name and your looks. They all said they were compelled to confess before ten o'clock this morning at this precinct."

Nick knew the answer before asking but said, "Do you think this is some kind of joke?"

Jen shook her head. "These people are serious, Nick. Cynthia suggested that maybe she had a nightmare until I reminded her that two other people must have shared her dream." Jen shrugged, "I don't know what to do. They obviously didn't kill you. I've scheduled polygraphs for all three. After that..."

Nick said, "There aren't any reports of a body being found in an alley from last night, yet. I'm going to talk to Jarvis."

Nick knocked on the interrogation room door where Wayne and Peter Jarvis sat staring at each other. Wayne shrugged to signal Nick that he was out of ideas. Nick introduced himself and sat across from Peter.

"Peter, have you done anything new lately? Met any new people, change any medications, changed jobs?"

Peter looked thoughtful. "I applied for a new position in the firm but I haven't heard anything yet. I started looking at new condos but I haven't made any decisions." He was obviously very disturbed at the situation. "Detective Stryker I am so sorry. I don't understand my actions. I don't understand why I'm here, why I thought I'd shot you. I don't even remember driving here! Maybe I'm losing my mind."

Nick asked, "How about medications? Do you take any?"

Peter's brow began to sweat again. Nick noticed an increase of blinking and Peter said, "I use coke recreationally. I did some yesterday."

"Recreationally? You looked smarter than that." Nick stood to leave the room and slid a yellow pad and pen over to Peter. "I want you to write down everything you've done for the last three days. Every person you've talked to, every place you've gone."

Peter nodded. "Detective Stryker, have I been hypnotized or something? This is all so out of character."

Nick was already considering the possibility they had all been hypnotized. It was the only thing that made sense. Nick leaned forward and said, "We'll figure this out. Just try to get back into your normal routine and let me know if you think of anything that might be helpful."

Nick thanked Peter for volunteering for the polygraph and the gun residue test. He instructed Dolly Weston and Cynthia Bronson to compile their own lists before they left. Nick returned to his desk and clicked the end of his pen as he thought about the morning's events. His gut told him there was much more to come.

# CHAPTER 2

Kevin Morris 'finger combed' his hair as he went through the glass turn style doors of the Chicago Tribune's office building. Hopefully, Sharon was working the customer service desk this morning and he could catch a smile from her. Kevin glanced towards her desk and sighed, she wasn't there.

He walked to the bank of elevators, pushed the 'up' button, stepped in and heard, "Wait for me."

He turned to see Sharon trying to gracefully sprint in her heels on the slippery marble floor. Her mid-length blonde hair bounced as she ran in her tight skirt. He had a momentary daydream that she was running toward him on a warm beach in the tropics.

"I'll hold it. Slow down before you fall." Kevin grinned. He was going to ride the elevator with Sharon. Sharon slowed and made her way into the center of the elevator.

"Thank you, Kevin." Her blue eyes twinkled as she flashed him a beautiful smile.

She knew his name! Kevin felt his neck getting warm.

"What floor, Sharon?"

Sharon blushed, "Actually, I don't know. Do you know a Jack Dugan? He sounds mean. He told me to bring these other newspapers to him and then hung up on me."

Kevin chuckled, "Jack Dugan's my copy editor. He always takes his name off from the directory; says he doesn't want people bothering him. He's on the third floor. He's not as mean as he sounds. I was terrified of him for months when I first started here."

Sharon smiled again. "You're the nicest person in this building. Why does Mr. Dugan want all of these newspapers?"

Kevin was practically floating from Sharon's compliment. "He likes to see what the other papers are printing. I'm just paranoid enough to worry he compares their crime reporters to me. It's hard to feel secure at a newspaper these days."

Sharon nodded in sympathy. "Don't I know it. I've been trying to get off from the customer service desk for a year. I want to be a reporter like you." She smiled and Kevin's heart melted. "Some reporter I'll make; I never even heard of Jack. No wonder I just run everyone's errands all day."

Kevin remembered how hard it was to catch a break in the business. "You wouldn't have any reason to know about Jack. All he does is rewrite our stories and call us all stupid. Why don't you show me some of your work one of these days and maybe I can help you come up with some ideas to break through?"

Sharon impulsively gave him a hug. "Really? You're the best."

The elevator stopped. Once in the crowded hallway Kevin pointed down the hall to Jack's office. "Just leave them on the corner of his desk and don't talk. He likes people that are invisible."

Sharon giggled. "If invisible people keep him happy, then I just became invisible. Thanks for the tip."

Kevin watched her walk down the hall. He thought his heart would pound out of his chest as he watched her hips gently sway towards Jack's office.

A woman's voice sarcastically said, "Oh God, here we go again."

Kevin turned around to see who was speaking. He grinned at a fellow reporter, Joyce. "What?"

Joyce slugged his arm and said, "I can tell when you're falling in love. Again. I have to say that this time, I think you've chosen wisely. Sharon is a great gal. Look out for Jack. He's on a rampage."

Kevin walked slowly towards Jack's office. He wanted another chance to see Sharon. His efforts were rewarded as she buzzed past him and waved. Jack must have decided to spare Sharon and take someone else as his first prisoner of the morning.

******

"Is there a friggin' reason we only hire people who can't spell?" Jack raised his voice and screamed at his open door. "If there's anyone out there that passed third grade, please feel free to come in here!" More than one person pretended not to hear.

Kevin squared his shoulders and walked into Jack's office. "Sir?"

Jack looked up. "Hey, I'm glad you're here. I just got a tip that three people walked into the 107th precinct this morning and confessed to murdering Nick Stryker."

Kevin was shattered. Nick Stryker was a living legend on the west side. He was like a super-hero cop. "Stryker's dead? Three people killed him?"

Jack's laughter boomed so loud it startled Kevin. "Stryker's fine. Three people who didn't kill him confessed they did. You ought to check it out. It might be a human interest story in the crime section. Give everyone a laugh."

Jack turned back to face his computer.

Kevin asked, "Why would three people confess to something that never happened?"

Jack's mood totally changed. He turned from his computer and snarled, "I don't know. Maybe we should send over an investigative reporter to find out. Oh wait, that's you!"

Kevin quickly left Jack's office and dropped some files on his own desk. He grabbed his smaller camera and walked as fast as he could past Jack's glass office.

******

Nick reviewed the reports on the polygraphs. All three reports came back as truthful. They had no idea why they confessed. They didn't know each other. They had never met Nick, nor ever heard of him. None of them had a criminal record but all three of them were registered gun owners. None of the gunpowder tests were positive.

Nick checked last night's crime reports again. No bodies found in any alley.

All three had given Jen permission and keys to search their homes and cars. Dolly asked Jen to feed her fish while she was there. Jen asked them to stay at the precinct while she and Nick searched their homes.

Cynthia cringed at the thought of staying at the precinct. "Can't I go on to the gallery? I have an exhibit of my work this weekend and I'm already behind."

Nick said, "Sure. Just be sure to finish your list of activities of the last few days before you leave." Nick noticed Cynthia continued staring at him.

Cynthia adjusted the purse strap on her shoulder and said, "I'm so sorry Detective Stryker. I wish I understood what was happening. I'm humiliated."

"There's an explanation and we'll find it. If you think of anything that might be helpful, please call." Nick handed her one of his cards and smiled. "Good luck with your exhibit."

Cynthia walked up to Jen and whispered, "He's so gorgeous. Any chance he's single?"

Jen snickered. "A couple of hours ago you told me that you killed him. Sorry, he's not available." Jen was used to every woman that met Nick wanting to know his status.

Nick watched Cynthia talking to Jen as he punched in the number for the department psychologist. If anyone could shed some light on this morning it may be him.

Jen dangled her keys. "Are you ready pretty boy? Wayne is going to Cindy's apartment, and Sam is going to Dolly's. That leaves Peter for us."

Nick smiled, "I just made a one o'clock appointment with the department shrink. I'd like to hear what he thinks about hypnotism." Nick winked. "Or maybe some new form of 'group' crazy."

Jen chuckled, "Not a bad idea. Someone is definitely going nuts."

******

Kevin spotted Nick and Jen in the precinct lobby and rushed over to catch them before they left the building.

"Nick! I need this story for Jack. Is it true?" Kevin slung his camera out of his way, flipped his notebook open and positioned his pen.

Nick chuckled, "Is what true, Kevin?"

"That three people walked in today and confessed to killing you." Contrary to public opinion a police department was the last place to keep anything secret for long. Good reporters had contacts who would call with news. Editors like Jack got tips even quicker.

Nick answered, "Yes, it's true, but I don't want to see this in the paper."

Kevin frowned. "Why the secrecy? It's obviously a joke, isn't it?"

Jen sighed, "There's just nothing to report yet, Kevin. When we know more you'll be the first person we call."

Kevin wasn't so easily deterred. "Are you trying to get me fired? Jack sent me here for this story. You've got to give me something. How about I run it as a side bar without any names? I'll just mention that three people came in and confessed to murdering a homicide detective that was very much alive and in the room? Does that work?"

Nick glanced at Jen and then back to Kevin. "Side bar buried inside the paper. Small print and no names."

Kevin grinned. "Normal print and on the crime page. At the bottom."

Nick shrugged his agreement as they left the building. Kevin took the elevator up to the Homicide Division and saw Wayne sitting at his desk. Kevin walked over and sat down.

Wayne looked up and frowned. "The press isn't supposed to be in here, shithead."

Kevin nodded, "Look, I've already talked to Nick and Jen. I just saw them downstairs." Kevin hoped Wayne would assume Nick said it was okay to come up and talk to Wayne.

Wayne frowned. "I know damn well they didn't tell you to come up here." Wayne stood and gestured his arm toward the door. "Goodbye."

Kevin smiled and said, "Can't blame a guy for tryin'." He turned to leave and saw his brother speaking with Detective Sam Flores. Kevin walked over to say hi and quickly lost his smile when he saw Peter's face. He looked awful.

"Peter? What are you doing here?"

Peter looked at Detective Flores for guidance. Sam just shrugged.

Peter said, "This is personal, Kevin."

Kevin focused on Peter's expression. Suddenly, he knew. "Did you just confess to killing Nick Stryker?"

Peter slowly nodded.

"My God. Why in the world would you do that?"

Peter dropped to a nearby bench and mumbled, "I have no idea."

******

J.T. slumped down behind the steering wheel and watched as Nick and Jen walked up the front steps of Peter Jarvis's apartment building. He knew they wouldn't find anything; he had just searched the apartment himself. He expected Nick to follow up on Derrick's subjects. The entire value of the program hinged on the program's ability to manipulate people without it being traced back. If Derrick's program contained any flaws that made it detectable, Nick would discover them. Making Nick the target of the first beta test guaranteed Nick's full attention.

J.T. smiled to himself as he pulled away from the curb and entered traffic. A year ago Nick had nosed into one of J.T.'s deals, causing him grief with the FBI and almost costing him his largest client, the international mob tribunal. J.T. had managed to negotiate with the FBI by trading information for his freedom. He was well aware of Nick's unique qualifications and skills. Having Nick involved in the beta tests of this program was just the security test J.T. wanted.

So far, things were going well. Another test was needed; one that J.T. could honestly say he didn't design if someday he was asked to take a polygraph. J. T. dialed Derrick from his burner phone. "Phase one has gone well. I want more proof for three million dollars. This time you come up with the test. Impress me."

******

Derrick hung up from the call and stared out of his office window. J.T. wanted him to do another beta test. Something that would impress him. How many tests would there be before he got his money? He needed it now. His daughter, Heather, 34 years old, was dying. There wasn't time for another test.

Heather's insurance was lousy. Derrick had been paying the majority of her medical bills and living expenses for the last three years. She had been waiting on the organ transplant list for almost two years now. Selling this program to J.T. was his only hope to save her. Her heart had become weak and scarred, forcing her to a secondary list of qualified recipients. She needed both a kidney and a pancreas. Derrick had donated one of his kidneys to her last year but her body had rejected it. Dialysis treatments were nearly every day now.

He'd have to instruct the subjects to do something drastic. J.T. certainly was a man that wouldn't impress easily. Derrick made his decision. He had no choice.

He grabbed a file from the locked bottom drawer of his desk and walked over to the video room. His research partner, Jason Little, was preparing a new advertising video for one of their clients.

Derrick quietly knocked as he opened the door.

Jason turned to glance at him. "They want this pharmaceutical advertising to run the entire length of the football game with 'buy flashes' every twenty seconds for the last five minutes." Jason flipped a few papers and said, "I don't have a problem with the normal advertising messages running behind the entire football game, just these buy flashes they want at the end. I can only sustain the 'buy flash' image for three minutes when I layer it on to our messaging software. I think I've got the cable frequency wrong. Do you have an extender code for this cable frequency?"

Derrick's business catered to advertisers eager to pay for subliminal message software secretly attached to normal television programming. The trick had always been to integrate their piggyback code into the primary programming transmissions without being detected. Derrick's reputation as a wizard had earned him the loyalty of many powerful men. His expertise in psychology meant that his messaging was targeted and efficient. His programming skills helped ensure his customers that their messages would remain undetected. His company offered common programming services to mask the illegal ones.

Derrick had recruited Jason the day he was released from prison for hacking into government secure sites. Jason made sure Derrick's programs were properly concealed, Derrick earned tax credits for hiring a felon, and the government considered Jason a rehabilitation success. Everyone was happy.

Derrick answered, "I think I have something that would do that. I used it last year during the Super Bowl, remember?" Derrick shifted his weight nervously and then asked, "Can you work on that later? I need to use the video program."

Jason shut his notebook and closed the program he had been using. "Sure. Let me know when you're done."

Jason left the room. Once again he wondered what Derrick was working on. Some secret project had him burning the midnight oil for over three months now. It seemed likely that Derrick would share his results soon. As a full partner in the firm, Jason didn't like being kept in the dark but he realized that was how Derrick worked. He just had to wait. Derrick's genius had already made him one fortune.

******

Derrick closed the office door and stared at the blank screen. He only had three people fully conditioned in the program. He cracked his knuckles one at a time while he thought about a second beta test. He had purposely selected Dolly, Cynthia and Peter because they were intelligent, lived alone, and most importantly had permits to carry concealed weapons. Cynthia had been a victim of an armed robbery, Dolly had witnessed a mass shooting and Peter just didn't trust anyone. It really wasn't important why they all chose to arm themselves. What was important was that they were now capable of performing even riskier assignments on his command.

Derrick had no specific knowledge of what J.T. wanted to use the program for but he had his suspicions. Derrick had been sternly warned that J.T. was a dangerous man with deadly connections. He could only think of one thing that might impress him. Using the program for the perfect alibi.

Derrick opened the video program to create a new assignment. He had no idea which one of the subjects would log on first. He programmed the host code to shut down as soon as one of them logged on. Only one of them was needed for this second test. One of them was going to have to murder someone. That would impress Mr. Barrimore. Derrick thought for a moment and then typed, "You will shoot the first person who annoys you."

# CHAPTER 3

11:00 a.m., Sunrise Specialty Hospital

Tony Scalla, administrator of Sunrise Specialty Hospital, wouldn't have answered a call in the middle of his meeting had it not been Lucas Costellano. Lucas was mob, and Lucas was the engine that drove the hospital's business.

Tony walked away from his desk to stand across the room from his men. "Yes?"

Lucas answered, "I have a priority order. This one pays a bonus. You've got no more than two days. Woman, around thirty, good health. Call me when you have her. Don't start on her until I get paid."

Tony walked back to his desk. The three men waiting had just been paid for last week's work. They were hoping this was a new job.

Tony said, "I need a thirty-year-old woman, someone that at least looks classy. We need someone in good health." He pointed at one of the men. "That means no hookers, got it?" Tony tapped his pen on his desk. "Let's hack the GPS again and pull the 'detour' scam. We'll switch out Exit 114 and 141 at noon today. Get your gear ready. Only run this twenty minutes. I don't need city guys being called. If we don't get a car with just a woman today, we'll run it again tomorrow. Got it? Take her to the brewery, we can't bring her to the clinic yet."

Tony reached in his top drawer and pulled out a vile of clear fluid. He tossed it to John, the head of this crew. "Only give her 7 cc's of this, we have to keep her alive. Bring me blood and tissue samples for testing. If this one's not a match you'll have to get another."

John nervously confessed, "We never took Saturday's waste to the crematorium. By the time we loaded up here at the clinic it was after hours and no one answered. We left it at the brewery."

Tony exhaled heavily not even attempting to hide his displeasure.

"You left shit at the brewery from the last job? What were you thinking? You should have brought it back here! What's the point of having this planned out?" Tony started pacing. Lucas wanted a girl fast. John was just going to have to get a girl and then take care of Saturday's mess. "Secure the girl at the brewery. One of you stay with her while the others make the delivery to the crematorium. Bring me tissue samples so I can test for compatibility." Tony returned to his seat and pointed at John. "You make good money so I don't have to worry about this kind of shit. Get your act together!"

All three men cowered from Tony's outburst. They knew he was right.

John said, "It won't happen again, boss. We'll get this done at noon."

Tony watched them leave. He was making more money than he had ever imagined and yet it all hinged on idiots following orders.

******

Nick and Jen had just finished searching Peter's apartment and computer. Nick didn't know what he expected to find. Peter had told them he led a fairly simple life of work and sleep. It seemed he had been truthful. There were no signs of a relationship and sparse furnishings. A stack of mail on the desk contained an opened bank statement showing comfortable payroll deposits that were seldom tapped and a six figure balance. Peter was either very cheap or didn't even have time to spend the money he was making.

Jen opened Peter's refrigerator door. "The guy lives on take-out food and Sprite." Jen pointed to a pile of papers on the kitchen counter. "He's got a travel flyer about China and a book on learning Mandarin. Other than that, I've got nothin' here."

Nick made a copy of Peter's hard drive and forwarded it to their cyber forensic team. "I don't see anything here either, unless he hid it."

Jen walked over and said, "He wouldn't have given us permission to copy everything if he was guilty. I'm back to thinking they were hypnotized somehow without their knowledge."

"That's a scary thought isn't it? Remember too, whoever did this wants us to know for some reason."

Jen pondered Nick's statement and said, "It's either a warning, or someone wants you to play a game."

"Maybe both."

Walking back to their car Nick's phone rang. The dispatcher from control central gave an address to Nick and stated that a body had been discovered.

Nick held his hands out for the car keys. "My turn to drive. We've got a dead one."

Twenty blocks away Jen and Nick saw the familiar red and blue lights of patrol cars and the oversized white coroner van. A hazmat team, fully suited, walked in and out of the main entrance door of the two story brick building. Nick held up the crime scene tape for Jen to duck under as one of the patrol officers approached them.

Nick asked, "What've we got?"

The patrol officer shook his head. "I'm not sure. You'll have to suit up. The coroner's almost done. Those kids over there claim they accidently threw a ball in the window and broke in to get it. They found the bodies, went home and had one of their moms call 911." He handed Nick and Jen the hazmat suits. "Bet they don't break into a vacant building again for a while."

Jen saw two young boys with bicycles standing outside of the yellow tape. A patrol officer was taking notes as both boys were talking.

Nick asked, "How many bodies?"

"You'll have to get that from the coroner. I heard they're all in pieces in hazmat bags."

Nick noticed the faded letters on the brick face of the building that read 'Canton Brewery'. He stepped aside as two of the coroner's staff left the building and opened the back of their truck for a gurney. Inside the building the air was damp and smelled rancid. A stream of light from the broken window illuminated the cavernous room. Those kids hadn't lost a ball. The windows had been boarded closed from the inside.

A voice yelled from the far dark corner, "Stryker, over here."

Jen and Nick slowly walked across the room. Jen adjusted the head gear of the hazmat suit and tightened her gloves.

The coroner stood and finished dictating notes to his assistant. Jen counted four blue body bags marked 'Bio-Hazard' lined up along the wall. The coroner bent down and unzipped the one closest to Nick and Jen.

"These are medical waste bags. We tested the fluids for toxins and they appear safe; we probably don't need these suits." The coroner shook his head. "The bags are supposed to be inserted into specially lined crates for proper disposal. Usually a crematorium."

Nick asked, "So do we have medical waste or bodies?"

The coroner removed his head mask, handed it to his assistant and opened the first bag wide in order for Nick to see inside. A beautiful woman's head and neck was attached to an empty torso. Nearly every organ had been removed.

The coroner pointed to a large bag on the left. "We have two sets of legs in there. Professional job, surgical removal. Three people in total. My guess is the surgeries took place two or three days ago. I don't see a cause of death on any of them. There are some signs of defensive wounds on the hands along with a head injury on the adult male. I can't swear we have homicides here. I'll have to get them on the table."

Nick asked, "No obvious trauma?"

"Like I said, some evidence of trauma but not enough for an auto accident as an example. They look perfectly healthy; except they have no organs." The coroner raised a bushy eyebrow and said, "That's why I had them call you."

Jen looked at Nick, "My God. What kind of hospital doesn't dispose properly of cadavers?"

Nick leaned down and took a picture of the woman's face. "Let's run them through missing persons. I'll call Sam and Wayne to help us with this one. Until we hear differently, these are homicides."

Jen unzipped the next bag and nearly got sick. The stench was overwhelming. This one was a man. He was a good looking man, maybe in his forties. He appeared to be sleeping until you looked below his neck. Jen used her gloved fingers to curl up the man's lips. "Good teeth. Not homeless." She gently moved his head and began taking photos.

The coroner's staff patiently waited for Nick and Jen to finish their photos and prodding. Nick, Jen and the coroner took off their hazmat suits and placed them in the disposal container.

Nick headed toward the last body bag and the coroner said, "That one's bad, Nick."

Nick glanced from the coroner, back to the bag. He couldn't imagine this one being any worse than the others. He opened the bag and saw what was left of a beautiful little girl, maybe six years old. Golden threads of fine hair cascaded around her face. She looked angelic. He could feel the rage building in his chest. His gut told him the D.N.A. tests would confirm this had been a family.

Nick took a picture of her face, quickly glanced at the damage to her little body and zipped the bag closed. He stood and fought to tamp down his anger.

Jen walked over and stopped. She knew Nick's expressions well enough to know that something had bothered him deeply. Nick showed her the picture. Jen gasped and quickly turned away. Nick waited a minute and then put his hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Jen answered, "No." She turned back and glared at the four body bags. "What kind of monster does this?"

Nick answered, "The kind we're going to catch."

Nick gave her shoulder a pat and said, "Take your time. I'm going to check out this building."

The building had not been used as a brewery for decades. From the street the building appeared to be two stories. Inside, it was only one story with twenty foot ceilings. It was dark and empty other than a stack of wood pallets and a push broom in the corner. The windows were covered in plywood other than the one the kids had broken through. Nick flicked on a light switch and two of the four lights in the ceiling came on. Someone was still paying to keep the power on. The floors were dusty but free of debris.

Nick walked over to a set of overhead doors that backed up to an alley. Two of the overhead doors were rusted shut. The door in the center easily opened when Nick released the lock. Oil droplets, scuff marks and tire tracks confirmed the building had recently been used. The narrow alley behind the building had probably been used for pickups and deliveries back when the brewery was operational.

Nick squatted down and inspected faint drag marks on the dusty concrete floor. The marks continued the length of the delivery bay and disappeared around a corner. A small windowless room sat at the end of the short hall. A large padlock hung loose from an iron bracket affixed to the wall. A heavy bar was positioned to slide across the entire doorway. Inside the room heavy chains were bolted to the concrete floor and curled in the corner.

Nick pointed his flashlight at the pile of chains and saw a glint of color from the corner. He walked over and used his pen to dislodge a small pink hair clip from the broken mortar where the bricks met the concrete floor. The push broom by the pallets in the large room had probably pushed the hair clip into the corner.

Jen came up behind Nick and said, "I don't like the looks of this."

Nick held up the hairclip. His flashlight highlighted two long strands of fine yellow hair attached. "The first time she was here; she wasn't in a bag."

Nick dropped the hairclip into a small evidence bag. He squatted down and let his mind take in every inch of the room. He could imagine the entire family chained and cowered into the corner. He could sense the terror they must have felt. He could almost hear the little girl's whimpers.

Nick's jaw set in determination. Fate had sent him another monster.

The Crime Scene Unit techs dusted for fingerprints around the overhead door, the door to the small room, and on the body bags. The senior tech looked at Nick and shook his head.

Wayne and Sam arrived and volunteered to canvass the area and interview the two boys that had broken into the building.

Wayne chewed on a toothpick and waited for Nick's assessment of what had happened.

Nick finally said, "Three bodies, looks like a family. Dad, Mom and little girl. All merchantable organs surgically removed. Doc says no more than two days. He'll call when he has a cause of death. For now, we'll assume these are ours.

So far we have a hair clip and two hairs. The techs aren't finding many prints. The ones they are finding are small and probably belong to those kids that broke in. Identifying the victim photos and finding out where those medical bags came from might be all we get. I didn't see any cameras in the street out front or in the alley. This neighborhood is close to gone."

It was decided that Nick and Jen would begin working missing persons and Wayne and Sam would work the neighborhood.

Nick and Jen walked back to their car. Jen got in the passenger side and buckled her seat belt. Nick waited for Jen to say something. "I'm going to drop you off back at the precinct and keep my appointment with the shrink. Are you going to be okay?"

Jen looked out the passenger window and then took a deep breath. "If these were legitimate organ donors their families would have their bodies for burials. They wouldn't be crammed in medical waste bags. None of these people looked like they had been living on the street so there are families out there. These are homicides. How do you snatch a whole family from this city and no one notices?"

Nick said, "The bodies are fresh. The families may not even know they're missing yet. I'd start with the reports for the last few days. Hopefully, we'll hear from the coroner in a couple of hours."

Jen said, "I'll call the medical facilities that do transplants. Surely someone would remember an entire family."

******

John and the two men with him arrived at the first intersection at the end of Exit 141. They put their orange florescent vests on over their clothes and unloaded their 'Detour' barricades from the back of the van. One sign would direct drivers to stop as soon as they came to the end of the Exit. One man would stand in front of the 'road closed / detour' sign and direct all cars with anything other than one woman driving to turn left. Additional arrow signs down the street would lead those cars back to the main road.

John waited for a car with just a woman driving. He would flag her to turn right. At the first stop sign the remaining two men would carjack her. She would be drugged and her car driven away to be abandoned. The van would follow the victim's car to the dump site and retrieve the driver. They would then transport the woman to the holding cell at the brewery. The driver of the van would have reloaded the detour signs and corrected the GPS signal. Easy and clean.

******

Nick sprinted up the two flights of stairs at the doctor's office instead of waiting on the elevator. Incorporating fitness exercises into his daily schedule was becoming increasingly more difficult. Their increased workload had meant little time for the gym or target range.

He and Jen were required to take the department psych evaluation tests every six months instead of annually like everyone else. The Chief was forced to that concession to comfort his superiors and the department insurance company in light of the number of 'incidents' Nick and Jen seemed to get into.

Nick was only five minutes late for his appointment but Doctor Reynolds stood by his receptionist's desk with a frown on his face.

Nick was quick to explain. "Sorry, Doc. Got a last minute call. Nature of the beast."

Dr. Reynolds forced a smile and pointed to the open door to his office. Having the contract with the city was lucrative but often annoying. "Perfectly understandable, Nick. I was just noticing that you and Jen are overdue for your evaluations."

Nick mumbled something that Dr. Reynolds ignored.

As Dr. Reynolds sat in his chair he said, "Make an appointment before you leave. On the phone you said you had questions about hypnosis. Are you thinking about using hypnosis for something?"

Nick explained this morning's confessions by Dolly, Cynthia and Peter. Dr. Reynolds had a puzzled expression on his face.

Nick asked, "Doesn't it sound like they were hypnotized or something?"

"Something. Ordinarily, a person would have consented to being hypnotized and would know exactly when it had happened. You're quite sure these people haven't had a recent experience or some mutual friend playing a joke on them?"

Nick shared the results of the polygraphs and the interrogations with Dr. Reynolds. "The only thing they had in common was that they all three said they felt compelled to come into the precinct by 10:00 a.m. and confess. For some reason each of them felt that punctuality was important."

Dr. Reynolds rubbed his chin and then asked, "Did they say if they were compelled to do anything else in the near future?"

Nick shrugged, "I asked them that and they all said no. They all woke up with the memory of having shot me in a dark alley last night, disposed of the gun in a dumpster, and a compelling need to confess this morning."

Dr. Reynolds twisted his chair to pull a book from his library shelf. He opened it, read a moment and then said, "They seem to have experienced a dissociative episode."

Nick was familiar with the term when used to explain people with multiple personalities. "These people didn't claim some other personality did this."

Dr. Reynolds said, "I don't mean to suggest that. What I mean is that we all have dissociative episodes of varying types. Many people experience driving across town with no memory of even checking traffic lights, etc. That is a form of the conscious mind allowing the subconscious to take over. For all outward appearances they are fine. They usually perform known behavioral habits. Sleep walkers experience similar episodes. They can competently prepare entire meals and even do homework while asleep."

Nick glanced at his watch. "Since I have three people that all did the same thing at the same time I'm still thinking they had to be hypnotized."

Dr. Reynolds nodded. "Or both. I wonder if a hypnotized person could be triggered to have a dissociative episode?" Dr. Reynolds leaned forward and said, "Let me do a little research and get back to you. This is fascinating."

Nick stood to leave and said, "Don't get too fascinated. If the Chief doesn't approve your bill, then I'm paying it." Nick smiled and the doctor just shook his head.

Dr. Reynolds' expression became very serious. "Nick, the fact that all three of these people were possibly instructed to confess to murdering you, at your precinct, may very well be some sort of veiled threat."

"I've thought of that."

# CHAPTER 4

Kevin gave Peter a ride home from the 107th precinct. "I can blow off work today and keep you company."

Peter grabbed the car door handle and waited for Kevin's car to come to a stop at the curb. "I'll be fine. I'm going to spend some time reflecting on the list I gave to Detective Stryker to make sure I didn't forget something. There has to be a logical explanation for this and I'm going to figure this out."

Kevin regretted that he and Peter weren't closer. They shared the same mother but certainly led very separate lives. Kevin and his mother had led a fairly simple existence. They struggled financially to keep their heads above water. When Kevin was four years old he went to live with his grandmother. His mom promptly married Peter's father and gave birth to Peter nine months later. After that, everything changed. Kevin's mother became distant, consumed by her new life and new baby. In spite of his grandmother's attempts to mask his mother's abandonment, Kevin grew up feeling inferior to Peter and unworthy of his mother's love.

Peter grew up in an affluent home with private tutors that guided his exceptional intelligence toward early independence and success. He completed graduate school with a Master's degree at nineteen years old. He was the youngest broker to have ever been listed at the Chicago Board of Trade. All Kevin had ever heard of Peter was how smart and successful he had become.

Kevin was surprised when Peter began showing up at his apartment to just 'hang out'. It started about two years ago and quickly became a weekly ritual. Listening to Peter talk during their visits, Kevin realized that Peter's life hadn't been as storybook as Kevin had imagined. Peter's father was a demanding, controlling task master and Peter pushed himself to excel in order to leave home sooner. Peter eventually confessed that Kevin was the only person he felt close to or cared about.

Kevin asked, "Okay with you if I stop back with pizza later? I know you never have food."

Peter grinned, "Sure. Pick up some beer too." Peter started to reach in his pocket for money.

Kevin put his hand up. "I can manage beer and pizza. Save your money for when I ask you for that BMW."

Kevin watched as Peter walked up the front steps of his townhouse and disappeared behind the large mahogany door. He wished he had thought of something clever to say that would have made Peter feel better. There had to be a logical explanation.

Kevin turned on his police scanner and listened to the dispatcher report bodies found at the old brewery. He tried to force his mind to focus on business as he headed for the brewery to get the story. His thoughts kept drifting back to Peter's problem. It didn't make sense. Three people didn't all go crazy on the same morning, did they?

******

Cynthia arrived at the gallery and ignored the questioning stares of the gallery staff waiting to arrange her art for the exhibit. She hoped she didn't look as frazzled as she felt. So she was late, so what? Cynthia had no obligation to disclose anything about her life to them. Then she remembered she had asked them all to come in an hour early to help set up the exhibit display. Drat.

She walked over to the small group and began giving them instructions for the placements of the art display. "Hey, I'm sorry I'm so late. Something unavoidable came up. You can all leave two hours early today."

One of the gallery interns leaned close to her and whispered, "I'll stay 'til closing. You can't do this by yourself. You got a phone call from Mr. Woo. He asked that you call him when you get a moment."

Cynthia nearly squealed with excitement. She had been practically stalking Mr. Woo for almost a year to get his attention. He was a prestigious art dealer that could introduce her art to the Chinese market. She knew he was scheduled to be in Chicago this week. He was the whole reason she had decided to learn Mandarin. Cynthia practically skipped to her office to return the call. Just before dialing, she decided to sign into her Mandarin app on her phone and refresh her memory of some of the more important greetings and phrases. A soft knock on the door stopped her.

One of the gallery interns stated that an art buyer had come into the gallery and had a question about one of her pieces. Cynthia's heart began to pound. She needed a sale. Maybe today wouldn't be a total loss after all.

******

Dolly Weston walked out of the 107th precinct and just sat in her car watching the patrol officers rush in and out of the building. She felt as if she were coming back from an out-of-body experience of some sort. Whatever had possessed her to come here and confess to murder? She glanced at her reflection in the rear view mirror and asked, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Dolly dialed the library where she worked and told her manager she was taking a sick day. Then she called her best friend, Darla, and told her what she had done. Darla made her repeat herself twice. Dolly quickly realized that there was no way to explain what she had done in a logical fashion and told Darla she would talk to her later.

Dolly drove to the local market before returning to her apartment. She glanced in her grocery bags as she unlocked the front door. Sixty dollars' worth of junk food. It won't erase the morning but it might comfort her for the afternoon. It wasn't a total lie when she called in sick. Only a sicko would walk into a police station and confess to murdering someone they didn't kill. Someone that wasn't really dead, and of all people a homicide cop.

She placed the bags on the kitchen counter and divided the groceries into two piles, sweet and salty. Then she picked out the items that needed to be refrigerated. Four containers of ice cream, a frozen cream cheese cake (which she put in the fridge side to thaw), a jar of dill pickles, a jar of olives, and chocolate milk. On the counter was a family sized bag of Doritos, some cheese puffs, three types of cookies, BBQ potato chips, a six pack of cola and a bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips.

Dolly's doorbell rang. Her friend Darla waited impatiently outside, pressing the buzzer every five seconds and squinting through the long side window next to the door. Dolly should have known that Darla would make the trip across town to get the details.

Dolly opened the door a crack, "You don't need to be here. I'm not feeling so good so I'm going to take a nap."

Darla pushed her way past. "Bull shit!" She tossed her purse on a chair and stopped in the doorway to the kitchen with her fists on her hips. "Not feeling good, huh?" Darla walked in the kitchen and pulled two large plastic bowls from the cupboard. "I know a stress binge when I see one. Let's get our snacks and move on to the living room. I've got all day; told 'em I was gettin' sick." Darla snapped open the bag of Doritos with the force of the Hulk. "You can tell me again how you ended up at the homicide department this morning."

******

Peter sat on the end of the couch and stared at his laptop on the table. He had no idea what to do with himself. His boss had been gracious about him staying home ill. It was unlike him to be nice. Maybe he had heard what had happened. Peter felt guilty. He had never lied to his boss before. He decided it was better to feel guilty about telling a lie than to have his boss know the truth. How could he ever explain what he did this morning? His mind wandered back to the homicide office. It seemed like a bad dream that wouldn't go away.

Someone, or something had made him do this. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back couch cushion. Was he losing his mind? Is this how it starts? Kevin had looked at him with that pitiful expression on his face. The police certainly didn't think he was normal. Those women, Dolly and Cynthia had done the same thing. He was sure he didn't know them. In minutes he had drifted into a restless sleep. The sun bursting through the fold of the curtain made a tall vertical bar of light that slowly inched its way around the room.

******

Jason watched Derrick leave the video room and lock some files in his lower desk drawer. Jason thought Derrick looked pale and distracted. Maybe he was ill.

"Are you done with the video room?" Jason waited for an answer. "Derrick! You done in there?"

"Oh. Sorry, yes I'm through. Look, I'll be out of the office for a few hours. You needed something.... oh yes, the extender code." Derrick typed a few keystrokes on his computer and the printer spit out a single page. Derrick walked over and handed the page to Jason. "I can forward the file to you if you'd prefer?"

Jason looked at the code. "This should be fine. What are you working on anyway?"

Derrick was stunned by the question and stammered something unintelligible. He went back to his desk, slipped his cell phone in his pocket and said, "I'll be out all day. Maybe, I don't know. If you need me, call." Derrick rushed from the room and Jason watched as Derrick hit the elevator button twice. He couldn't leave the office fast enough.

Maybe Heather wasn't doing well. That would explain Derrick's flustered demeanor. Jason went into the video room with the page of code to complete his project. His curiosity got the better of him and he searched the computer's history. He saw that Derrick had made a sixty second video. That couldn't be right. What good is a sixty second video? Jason used Derrick's security code and ordered the video to play.

The screen filled with Chinese symbols and then a digital voice said. "You will shoot the first person that annoys you."

The video stopped. Jason stared at the screen in disbelief. He played the video again. What in the hell was going on?

******

Derrick sat in his car in the office parking garage. He put his phone on the charger and slumped down in the seat. He needed a few minutes alone to think. Jason was asking questions. He'd have to make up something to tell him. The last thing he needed was Jason finding out about the program. He would want a split of the sale, or worse, he would steal the program for himself.

Derrick didn't know where to go. This was definitely a problem with this kind of program, he had no idea when one of his subjects would log back on first. He checked his breast pocket to make sure he had J.T.'s cell number. The minute he could confirm that one of his subjects had shot someone he was going to call J.T. and demand that J.T. purchase the program immediately.

If J.T. stalled again he would hint that he had another buyer waiting. Derrick's thoughts turned to Heather. She would be horrified if she knew what he was doing. He not only was going to purchase the organs she needed through a black market supplier, but he was paying for it all with blood money. His own program was shortly going to mean the end of someone's life and an innocent person going to jail. He could only imagine the destruction the program would have in the hands of someone like J.T. Barrimore.

Derrick felt a momentary flash of guilt that was quickly replaced with his own dialogue of justifications. Heather was his daughter, he had to save her.

# CHAPTER 5

Kevin spotted the flashing red and blue lights of the patrol cars a block away from the brewery. Traffic was being redirected down the street. He twisted his head to see what was happening as an officer waved him to drive on. The hazmat van was parked next to the coroner's van and yellow crime scene tape blanketed the front of the building twisted around a fire hydrant and continued around the corner. Kevin parked as close as he could to the scene, grabbed his camera and sprinted up closer, searching the crowd for an officer he knew.

"Ray! Over here!" Kevin waved as Officer Raymond Platt turned toward Kevin's voice.

Officer Platt slowly walked over. The buttons on his uniform shirt strained to keep the basketball sized belly covered. "Didn't take you long to get here."

Kevin leaned in, notebook ready and asked, "What's up?"

Ray glanced around and then answered, "Two kids broke into that old brewery building and found some dead people. Three, I think."

Kevin started taking notes, "Shooting? Stabbing?"

Ray shrugged, "Can't tell. They're all in pieces; been bagged up and dumped in those medical hazard bags."

Kevin stopped writing and looked around at the vacated neighborhood. "Here? You mean it's human medical waste dumped here instead of being disposed of properly?"

Ray looked thoughtful, "Yeah, something like that. Oh, they think it's a family. Man, woman and a kid. All their organs are gone."

Kevin's stomach clenched. "Gone as in surgically removed? All of them? Is this a homicide or littering?"

Ray frowned. "The coroner called Stryker. That tells me homicide. He and Jen are around here somewhere. If you hang around, you might catch 'em."

Kevin's instincts told him that this could be a big story. He thanked Ray, dialed the paper and selected the extension for the customer service desk.

Sharon answered, "Chicago Tribune, can I help you?"

The sound of her voice made his heart leap to his throat. "Do you really want to be a reporter?" Kevin knew he faced the wrath of his bosses if she said yes. He didn't care.

"Is that you, Kevin?"

"Yeah. I'm on a tip that might be a good story. If you want to join in, I'll share my byline."

Sharon was in shock. Nobody ever shared their byline. This was her big break. "Where are you? I'll be there as fast as I can get there!"

Kevin smiled and gave her the address. "Say, give me your cell number in case I need you."

Sharon gave him the number. "Thanks, Kevin. I can't believe you're doing this. I won't let you down."

Sharon jumped from her desk and ran to her supervisor's office. Charley Kane was bent over a pile of papers and startled when she charged into his office.

"Yes?" He smiled.

"Charley, I have a fabulous opportunity! I have to leave work immediately."

Charley frowned. "You can't just leave unless you're sick."

Sharon shook her head. "I'm not sick. I wouldn't lie to you. Please, Charley?"

Charley grabbed a folder and spoke as he wrote, "Sharon Perez left Monday, 11:00 a.m., due to illness."

He looked at her surprised expression and said, "H.R. only excuses illnesses. If you're not sick, you're fired." Charley returned the folder to the corner of his desk. "What kind of opportunity?"

"I'm getting my first chance to be a crime reporter! With Kevin."

Charley leaned back in his chair and chuckled. "Our Kevin? He's good. Got a nose like a bloodhound." Charley pointed at the door, "You best move it. Reporters have to move fast and pick up every detail along the way. You don't want to be left behind on your first assignment."

Sharon waved and ran out of the room. She stopped at her desk just long enough to pick up her gym bag that had her walking shoes packed inside. If this worked out she'd never have to wear high heels to work again.

In the parking garage she entered the address Kevin had given her into her GPS, changed into her walking shoes and drove out of the building.

******

Kevin walked along the crime scene tape until he was directly across from the front door of the brewery. He didn't see Nick or Jen anywhere. He followed the yellow crime tape around to the back of the building in hopes that they were there. Detective Wayne Dunfee was talking to a crime scene unit tech and glanced over. Kevin waved his fingers. Wayne looked to the sky and shook his head. After a couple of minutes talking to the tech he walked over to Kevin.

"Stryker left already."

Kevin sighed and pointed to a small car pulling up across the street. "My competition just pulled up. Any chance you can give me something you won't give him?"

Wayne liked Kevin. "We don't really know much yet."

Kevin sighed, "Give me something man. I've got a gal coming here that I want to impress." Kevin's impish grin made Wayne smile.

Wayne asked, "You've got a gal coming here? You're pretty screwed up if you're turning this into a date."

"She works at the paper and wants to be a reporter." Kevin grinned again. "But I'm hoping she'll be so impressed with me that we start dating."

Wayne looked away from Kevin and said, "I'm just thinkin' out loud here, not talking to the press. I'd sure like to know more about this building. People won't talk to cops. Those kids over there broke into the building." Wayne pointed. "A good reporter might get them to remember a little more. Someone has been using the building lately. That's for you, not the paper. Delivery door off the alley. Find somebody that can ID a vehicle for us."

Kevin glanced at the boys and nodded. "Done. What else? I hear the body parts were in medical disposal bags. Can I see one? The bag. Not the body parts."

Wayne opened his phone, clicked on a picture and showed Kevin. "Red, no markings other than the bio-hazard, about four feet long. That's all you get for now."

Kevin dialed Sharon's cell number. He wanted her involved with his interviews of the two boys. "How far are you?"

Sharon answered, "I'm turning on the Exit right now. My GPS says ten minutes."

Kevin smiled as he hung up the phone. If nothing else, he would be spending the entire afternoon with Sharon. Ten minutes was too much time to waste waiting, however. Kevin thanked Wayne and walked over to the two boys.

******

Sharon could hardly contain her excitement as she weaved her car through the highway traffic to meet Kevin. She was determined to impress him by doing a good job. Her GPS had announced that her exit was directly ahead. Kevin had just called asking how long it would be before she got there. He had said it was going to be a good story. She glanced in the rearview mirror to change lanes and noticed she had a wide smile on her face. People had told her for years that 'luck' was the determining factor for success as a journalist. Finally, she was the one getting lucky.

She slowed for the extreme curve of the exit off ramp and grimaced at the dilapidated neighborhood that was unfolding ahead of her. It was a vivid reminder that being a reporter meant she would be going places most people avoided.

At the end of the ramp, two men in florescent orange vests were waving cars to stop. Signs that read 'men working' and 'detour' were held in place with sand bags preventing cars from driving straight through. Sharon watched as one of the men approached the car in front of her. After a brief conversation, that car carefully inched past the blockade and continued forward.

Sharon glanced at her watch as the man approached her driver's window. Kevin was waiting. The last thing she needed was to get tangled up in Chicago's unending road construction.

The man glanced inside her car and pointed to the right. "You're going to have to turn right and follow the signs."

Sharon protested. "Why? That other car went through."

The man frowned. "They live down the block. I had to let them through. Just follow the signs."

She didn't have time to argue. Road construction in Chicago was a never ending curse.

Sharon said, "Fine."

She steered her car to the right and followed the rough pavement to the next corner where another detour arrow pointed to the right once again. This road was in even worse condition. She slowed to nearly a crawl to navigate around the monstrous potholes. She glanced ahead and saw the road became even worse. The homes along the street were in poor repair and some were even boarded up. Someone had obviously misplaced one of the signs. She decided to turn around and head back toward the exit. Maybe she could charm her way past the men.

She put the car in reverse and backed into the driveway of a boarded up bungalow. As she started forward a large grey van cut in front of her and slammed to a stop. She was blocked. The van had a medical insignia painted on its side. Maybe it was an ambulance of some sort? Sharon blasted her horn, she was sure they hadn't seen her.

The passenger door of the van flew open and a man began running toward her. A second man came running from around the opposite side of the van. Sharon glanced behind her. Maybe they were responding to an emergency at the bungalow. She lowered her window to ask them to unblock her car.

One man ran up to her window and leveled a pistol at her head.

"Get out."

Sharon froze in terror. She was being carjacked. All she could see was the barrel of the gun inches from her temple.

"Put the car in park and get out!" The man pressed the pistol to her temple.

Sharon felt tears stinging her eyes and her mind swarmed in a desperate search for some idea to save herself. The man reached his other arm through the window and unlocked her doors. He opened the driver's door, grabbed Sharon's arm and pulled her outside of the car.

Sharon finally was able to scream. She twisted as hard as she could to break free of the man's grasp on her arm. He was ungodly strong. Suddenly she felt him twist the arm with the gun and she watched as he slammed the pistol to her head. A searing pain shot through her body as the world went black.

The two men tossed her body into the back of the van. One of the men injected her as her car sped away. They retrieved their sign and sandbags and threw them into the back next to her lifeless body.

The driver of the van, John, said, "Got us a good one."

******

Kevin had been talking to the two boys for over ten minutes and not making much progress. He pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his money clip and said, "It would sure save me time if one of you could remember ever seeing someone around this building."

The two boy's eyes opened wide and they glanced at each other. The taller of the two reached for the money. Kevin pulled it back. "I want to hear what you have first."

"People don't go there much. Just every now and then. Big grey van pulls in the building from the alley and shuts the door right away."

The smaller boy added, "Sometimes they stay a couple of hours, sometimes only a few minutes. I saw 'em one time as they turned into the alley. Always two dudes and there's some kind of sign on the back of the van. Red and black snake or something."

The tall boy's eyes lit up. "Yeah! Snakes wrapping around a sword. Kind of creepy."

Kevin was sure they were describing Caduceus, the Greek medical symbol. He waved the twenty. "That's it? What about this morning? What did you see in the bags?"

The boys stiffened up and the tall one said, "We told the cops we didn't look in no bags."

"But you did, didn't you?" Kevin waved the twenty again. "What did you see?"

The smaller boy whispered, "A little girl. A pretty little blonde girl been scooped out clean."

A chill ran up Kevin's spine. He gave them the twenty and watched as they rode their bikes down the street and disappeared around the corner. A pretty little blonde girl. One thing was for sure; there would be no saving this monster once Nick found him. Kevin glanced at his notes and his watch. Where the heck was Sharon? A few patrol cars were still in front of the brewery and Wayne and Sam were still talking to the CSU techs.

Kevin figured there wasn't much left at the scene and walked back to his car to wait for Sharon and plan out his next steps. His first thought was that they needed to track down the owner of the brewery and check out missing persons. Kevin dialed Sharon's cell. No answer. Maybe she changed her mind? Maybe she had been stringing him along? He sent Sharon a text: "I've moved on from this location. Call me."

He turned the ignition key and put the car in gear. He was grateful his car was still in one piece in this neighborhood. Just as he glanced in his mirror to pull from the curb he noticed a grey van with a red and black insignia pull into the entrance of the alley and abruptly stop. The driver must have noticed the police activity. The van's reverse lights came on. It recklessly backed into the street and began to speed away. Every nerve in Kevin's body told him this was the van the boys had seen. Kevin made a three point turn and pushed his accelerator to the floor to catch up. The van accelerated after the second corner. They were trying to lose him.

******

John cursed the moment he turned the van into the alley. Cops were crawling all over the back of the brewery. He stopped the van, threw the gear into reverse and prayed the cops hadn't noticed them. They must have found the body bags from Saturday. Tony was going to have their heads. He glanced to the back of the van where Sharon's lifeless body had rolled to the side from his abrupt turn. Where in the hell was he supposed to take her now? All he could think of was to put as much distance between himself and the brewery as fast as possible.

Some asshole in a blue Prius had done a U-turn and had screeched up behind him. John watched in the rear view mirror as the Prius followed him through three turns. It had to be someone from the brewery scene, maybe even a cop. He couldn't shake the guy. There was no way he was going to let this guy follow him to the clinic. John quickly checked the surroundings. There was no nearby traffic in the rundown neighborhood. He slammed on the bakes, threw the van's gear into park and yelled, "Give me the gun."

******

Kevin wrote down the first three numbers of the license plate before the van slammed to a stop in the middle of the road. The driver's door flew open and a large man walked toward his car with an AK47. Kevin's windshield shattered from the blast of bullets. Glass flew at him like missiles. He dove down toward the passenger seat as blood exploded from his face and shoulders and sprayed the dash.

He could hear the sound of heavy boots crunching the glass on the pavement coming closer. He braced himself for that last final shot to the back of his head as he held his breath and tried to play dead. It seemed like an eternity before he heard the van screech away.

Kevin slowly reached for his phone and punched in 911. "I've been shot."

******

Officer Ray Platt was talking to Wayne when he received the radio transmission that gunshots and injuries had been reported just six blocks away.

Wayne whistled to Sam. "Let's go! Something's going down six blocks from here."

Wayne turned on his lights and he and Sam sped to the location. Two patrol units and an ambulance from the brewery location followed him. A blue Prius straddled the center line of the street. Shattered glass covered both lanes. A good Samaritan was redirecting traffic and an elderly woman was trying to open the locked driver's door of the Prius.

Sam jumped out as soon as Wayne stopped and ran over to the driver's door. He told the woman to get back in her house and out of harm's way. He looked inside and saw a man laying across the console moaning. Blood was spattered on the dash and what remained of the windshield. Sam used the butt of his pistol and broke the driver's window, reached in and unlocked the door.

Wayne motioned for the ambulance to move in closer just as the man in the car moved to sit up.

Wayne recognized him instantly. "Kevin? What in the hell happened? Are you okay?"

Kevin blinked a few times and wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve. "The van. The grey van those kids described. The driver shot me!"

Wayne and Sam exchanged glances, Wayne asked, "The brewery kids?"

The ambulance techs guided Kevin to sit on a gurney so they could inspect his injuries. As they removed Kevin's shirt and dabbed his injuries with medicated wipes Kevin said, "I got the first three letters of the license plate. They started to pull in the alley and tore out when they saw the cop cars. Those kids told me a grey van with a medical insignia used that brewery. It was them! It had the medical insignia and everything."

Sam wrote down the letters from the license plate and the description of the van and called in a BOLO. Wayne checked out the blanket of casings on the street. Wayne looked at Sam, "See if that old lady noticed anything about the van or the driver."

The ambulance attendant stood back from Kevin and said, "I don't think you've been shot. I don't see any bullet wounds. I think this is all from the glass." He commenced pulling shards of glass from Kevin's neck and ears.

Wayne used his knife to dig a bullet from the back of Kevin's steering wheel. He walked it over to where Kevin sat on the gurney. "You are one lucky S.O.B. Your steering wheel stopped this. This one would have killed you."

Kevin refused to go to the hospital once he learned he hadn't been shot. "The guy had an AK47 or something like that. He looked like Rambo walking toward me swinging that thing."

Wayne asked, "You decided to chase him? What were you going to do if you caught him? Ask him if he forgot some body parts at the brewery?"

"I thought I was helping. At least I got a partial plate number."

Wayne was glad that Kevin hadn't been hurt worse but annoyed that a reporter had become part of the case.

Wayne asked, "How did you get those boys to tell you about the van?"

Kevin was focused on pulling a long sliver of glass out of his wrist with his fingernails. "Twenty bucks. Damn, this hurts."

Wayne could almost feel Kevin's pain as he watched the paramedic pull another piece of glass from Kevin's scalp. "You don't look so good. Where's your friend? Didn't you say some gal was coming to meet you?"

Kevin finally extracted the glass shard from his wrist and handed it to the paramedic. He wiped the dripping blood from his wrist. "I have no clue where she is. I guess she stood me up."

"Smart gal."

# CHAPTER 6

Darla pushed the bag of Doritos to the side and moaned. "I didn't think I'd ever say this, but I'm sick of junk food."

Dolly nodded her agreement. "Me too."

Darla pushed herself to sit up straight on the couch. "We just ate a boat load of calories and wasted two hours trying to figure out how you three fruitcakes might know each other."

Dolly twisted her mouth in a frown and said, "Thanks."

"Why don't we talk to the other fruitcakes ourselves? Maybe that art lady, Cynthia. If you two can talk directly you might figure out what you have in common faster than cops will."

Dolly was sucking the dry cheese from the cheese puffs off her fingers and nodding. "I heard her say she had an art exhibit downtown today. Maybe we can find her on the internet?"

Darla walked over to Dolly's desk top computer and began typing. A few minutes passed and she said, "I bet this is her. Cynthia Bronson, she has an exhibit this week downtown at the Nelson Gallery." Darla looked at her watch. "Let's move it! I'd like to get home sometime today."

******

Cynthia straightened the corner of the oil painting and watched as her only buyer wormed his way around the room and then slipped out the glass front door. Great, another waste of time. Everyone claims to be a buyer until they hear the price. At least she still had Mr. Woo to call back. She glanced at the large portrait she had done of him from a photo. It was one of her best works. Hopefully, it would impress him enough to represent her to the Chinese market.

Cynthia walked back to her office and booted up her phone. She tapped the icon for the Mandarin app and leaned back in her chair. A quick refresher was in order before she placed the call. She wanted to impress Mr. Woo. He obviously had liked the picture she had emailed him of his portrait. This could be a life changing phone call.

She hit the 'continue lesson' button on the Mandarin program app. Within minutes, she was transported to another world.

******

Derrick had been waiting in his car for the Mandarin program to signal that one of his three test subjects had logged in. He didn't want to go back to his office and face more of Jason's questions. It was an inconvenience to have to wait for the subjects to reconnect for new instructions. At the moment he considered this a flaw, but the beauty of strangers committing crimes for the benefit of some anonymous master was worth a few inconveniences.

Finally, the signal alarmed. Derrick flipped through his program to find the user's code. Good, it was Cynthia Bronson, the artist. He looked up her bio and wrote down the address of the gallery she had listed as her employer. He then initiated his cell phone tracker signal and saw that she was indeed at the gallery. He pulled out of the parking garage and headed toward downtown. If he was lucky, he might get to video her shooting someone. That would be all of the proof that J. T. should need.

******

Jason had spent the last two hours hacking Derrick's video code before he figured out it was integrated with a hypnotic/dissociative link to their Mandarin program. Jason leaned his chair back and stared at the code on the screen. Why in the world was Derrick doing this? He was triggering dissociative episodes through hypnosis from the Mandarin program. Jason noticed the program also triggered back ground and personal bio databases. Derrick had developed a selection program that allowed him to filter out select subjects. It was genius. It was also very illegal and dangerous in the wrong hands. Derrick could order the test subjects to do anything. Had someone commissioned it or had Derrick developed it as his own to sell? There had to be a reason he was keeping it secret. Who would his buyer be? The government? The mob? Terrorists?

Jason knew that most of their current customers were mob affiliated. He hacked Derrick's cell records and entered each number into their tracking program. One of these recent contacts had to be Derrick's buyer. Jason felt no guilt for what he was doing. Derrick had violated their agreement by using the Mandarin program of which Jason was a half owner. Besides, if Derrick didn't want his work hacked, he shouldn't have hired a convicted hacker.

******

Dolly and Darla arrived at the gallery and were greeted by the gallery hostess. The wall of glass facing the street sparkled with gold lettering and expensive lighting. The floor of the gallery held large art pieces on pedestals and easels. Each piece was bathed in an orb of light from a spotlight above. A tall cube announced the works of Cynthia Bronson were in the main exhibit room beyond.

Dolly smoothed her skirt and whispered to Darla, "This is pretty fancy. We didn't exactly dress for this."

Darla smiled, "At least your orange finger tips match the flowers in your dress."

Dolly glanced at her cheese stained fingers and slipped her hands into her sweater pockets.

Dolly explained to the hostess that they had personal business with Cynthia Bronson. The hostess smiled and escorted them to Cynthia's open office door.

The hostess gestured with her arm to the doorway. "Go on in. Cynthia loves company."

Dolly and Darla stepped into the office. Cynthia was staring at her phone. Dolly softly knocked on the open door. Cynthia didn't move. Darla looked at Dolly and shrugged. Dolly cleared her throat and Cynthia looked up at them.

Dolly inched forward and said, "Miss Bronson? May I speak with you? I was at the police station this morning, too." Dolly nervously smoothed her dress folds over her hips.

Cynthia went pale. "I saw you there." She stood and gestured for Dolly and Darla to take a seat across from her desk. "You confessed, too."

Dolly sat, leaned forward and folded her hands on her lap, trying to hide the orange stains. "This is my friend Darla. We think that if we just talk to each other, we might be able to figure out what's happening better than the cops."

Cynthia nodded, "I agree. This has been very upsetting." Cynthia looked at her notepad with Mr. Woo's phone number. She really didn't want to keep him waiting for too long. "Would you mind if I make a quick phone call first? It's fairly important and then we can talk as long as you'd like."

Dolly and Darla both rose from their seats. Dolly said, "We'll just walk around the gallery until you're ready."

Cynthia smiled, watched them walk out of the office and dialed Mr. Woo.

He answered on the second ring. "Yes?"

"Mr. Woo, this is Cynthia Bronson returning your call from earlier." Cynthia carefully followed that introduction with a greeting in Mandarin that conveyed how honored she felt that he had called.

Mr. Woo paused for a moment and then said, "Ms. Bronson, I would appreciate your restraint in contacting me. I am not interested in your work, nor do I believe that there is an American market for it, let alone one in China. You have failed to develop even a modest following from what I can tell. If your name is ever in Chicago headlines you can call me then. Good day."

Cynthia stared at her silent phone in shock. Mr. Woo had managed to dismiss her and insult her in just a few sentences. Her hurt was quickly replaced with rage. What a pompous asshole. Cynthia stared at her purse. She retrieved a small revolver from inside and walked out to the gallery where Mr. Woo's portrait hung under three spot lights. She raised her arm, aimed, and shot a bullet between Mr. Woo's eyes.

Darla and Dolly both screamed and grabbed each other in a desperate bear hug. Cynthia stood staring at her revolver in her limp hand and then suddenly dropped it.

Darla ran over to her, "Cynthia! Cynthia!"

Cynthia had a blank expression on her face and slowly turned to face Dolly.

She whispered, "I don't know why I did that."

Dolly reached down and picked up the gun from the gallery floor. The stunned gallery patrons were silent and slowly backing away from Cynthia. Dolly held the gun at her side and smiled. "This performing art segment is a tribute to Dorothy Podber, the crazy photographer that shot Andy Warhol's Marilyn paintings. If it's good enough for Andy, it's good enough for Cynthia."

Several people watching noticeably relaxed and one woman even started clapping.

Cynthia gave Dolly a weak smile of gratitude.

Dolly whispered through clenched teeth, "Bow."

Cynthia quickly folded in a short bow.

Darla whispered to Dolly, "Let's get this fruitcake back in her office."

******

Derrick had only been in the gallery a few minutes before Cynthia entered the large room, aimed a pistol at a large portrait of a Chinese man, and shot it. He couldn't believe his eyes. Obviously his video had not been specific enough. It wasn't going to impress J.T. to see Cynthia's bullet hole on a portrait.

Derrick eased his way out the front door and back to his car. He was going to have to prepare another, more specific video. This time he would message Peter's phone that an update awaited, that way he could control the timing of the next experiment. Derrick realized he had to make sure this next video was successful. There had to be a specific target with step by step instructions. His mind raced as he drove back to his office and glanced at his watch. He was running out of time.

******

J.T. had a tracker placed on Derrick's car while he was at the strip joint during their first meeting. After challenging Derrick to provide another beta test, J.T. had decided to follow him and gauge the results for himself. Sellers had a way of leaving out details that didn't go as planned.

J.T. knew that one of Derrick's chosen subjects worked at the gallery so when Derrick entered the gallery and left so abruptly, J.T. decided to go in himself. He initiated his cyber scrambler to prevent the gallery security cameras from capturing his image. He had also ordered his cyber staff to scramble the city cameras for that block.

J.T. glanced around the gallery and eventually walked into the main exhibit room. Soft music played over the speakers as a small group of people stood staring at a portrait that had a bullet hole. J.T. listened to the group long enough to hear that the artist, Cynthia Bronson, had just shot the portrait. He smiled to himself at Derrick's obvious failure. No wonder he left in such a hurry. It would be interesting to see what choices Derrick made now.

The gallery hostess asked J.T. if he wanted an exhibit pricing guide. J.T. answered, "How much is this portrait?"

The gallery hostess consulted the guide and said, "This one had been priced at five thousand dollars prior to being shot." The hostess sounded apologetic.

J. T. smiled, "I'll take it."

******

Cynthia, Dolly and Darla sat in Cynthia's office trying to piece together what might have triggered Cynthia to shoot the portrait.

Dolly asked, "Have you ever done something like this before?"

Cynthia slowly shook her head. "I've never even shot this gun away from the shooting range. I have it for protection. It's been in my purse forever. I'm surprised it was even loaded."

Cynthia looked at Dolly. "I'm so grateful you popped up with that Warhol reference. I was mentally blank. You found the perfect thing to say."

The gallery hostess walked in and waved a fistful of bills. "Sorry to interrupt but I think you're on to something here. Some guy just bought your Mr. Woo, cash."

Cynthia abruptly stood and took the money from the hostess. With her eyes opened wide she fanned it out and waved it at Darla and Dolly. "You know what this means?"

They both shook their heads.

"Now I have to go out there and shoot the rest of my exhibit!"

******

J.T. glanced at his cell tracker and saw that Derrick had returned to his office. He chuckled as he imagined Derrick's frustration at Cynthia shooting a painting. At least J.T. now knew what type of beta test Derrick was working on. J.T. pulled his car from the curb and said, "Back to the drawing board, Doc." He glanced at the painting wrapped in brown paper and resting on his passenger seat. A U.P.S. store was off to the left in a short shopping mall. J.T. pulled up and checked his phone for an address. He found it. He initiated his scrambler to prevent the U.P.S. camera from getting his image and took the painting inside. J.T. instructed them to deliver it to the 107th precinct, to Nick Stryker.

Back in his car J.T. headed for the airport. He had business in Indianapolis to attend to before five. He was confident that Derrick would require some time before he finished a new beta test. Nick would need some time to consider the meaning of the portrait. It was important not to rush his decision. Nick had to be fed clues if he was to figure out Derrick's program. Nick was J.T.'s safety check. If Nick couldn't connect the dots, then J.T. would buy it.

******

Derrick walked back into his office and headed toward the video room. Jason sat at his computer desk watching Derrick's every move. After a few minutes Jason followed Derrick and caught him in the video program.

Derrick jumped from being startled.

Jason asked, "Do you mind if I take the rest of the day off? I've had some things surface I have to take care of."

Derrick was relieved. "No problem. Is everything okay?"

Jason noticed Derrick had clicked his monitor to show a screen saver instead of what he was working on.

"Everything is fine."

Derrick waited for the door to close and then he began his search of the daily news. Surely someone in Chicago deserved killing. Then he saw it. Headline: "Mayor Emanuel's approval rating at an all-time low."

Why not? Derrick didn't like politicians anyway. Peter could shoot the mayor.

# CHAPTER 7

Nick left Dr. Reynold's office, checked in with Jen at the precinct and headed back toward the brewery. He preferred to revisit crime scenes alone. Sometimes the stillness would whisper secrets if he listened. Subtle changes from the shifting shadows would reveal hints of the horrors that had happened. His mind harbored a gallery of victim faces. The little girl's face in the body bag was now front and center, branded on his every thought.

Wayne's ID displayed on Nick's ringing cell phone. Wayne asked, "Where are you?"

"I had an appointment. I'm heading back to the brewery for another look. What'd you find out?"

Wayne inspected one of the spent bullet casings from the street as he answered, "Got sidetracked. Sam and I responded to a shooting call six blocks from the brewery. Turns out it was Kevin, the reporter."

"Kevin?"

"He's okay but you'll want to swing by here. Looks like it's tied to the brewery." Wayne gave Nick the address and turned around to listen to Kevin argue with the ambulance staff.

"For the last time, I'm not going to a hospital. I have work to do, and these are just scratches." Kevin wiped blood from the face of his watch with the corner of his shirt. He looked at Wayne, "Where'd my phone end up?"

Wayne shrugged and walked over to glance inside the car. The phone was covered with a blanket of glass shards on the passenger seat. He carefully lifted it out of the car and handed it to Kevin. The EMT continued to tweeze glass shards from Kevin's neck and face, frowning when Kevin moved to take his phone.

Kevin said, "Thanks" and tapped Sharon's number into his phone again. He let it ring until her voice mail picked up. He left another message for her to call him as he watched Nick's car skid to a stop at the edge of the crime scene tape.

Nick shut off his light bar and took in the scene. A blue Prius straddled the center of the glass covered street. Kevin sat on a bench in the ambulance with a paramedic tech attending to him. Patrol units had arrived and were redirecting traffic. Sam was crossing the street from a small bungalow and a civilian man stood at the curb watching the activity. Nick couldn't imagine how this was tied to the brewery.

He walked over to Kevin. "What happened?"

Kevin frowned. "No, 'How are you? Gee, you're bleeding...', nothing?" Kevin could see that Nick was not in a humorous mood and quickly regretted his flip answer. "Sorry. I'm not used to being a part of the story."

Kevin told Nick about bribing the two young boys and getting information about the grey van with the medical insignia. He re-told how he noticed a van matching that description pull partly into the alley, then back up fast and leave. He said he suspected they left because the cops were there. After chasing the van three blocks it stopped and a man jumped out and shot at his car.

Wayne looked at Nick and said, "Kevin got the first three letters on the plate and a good description of the van and shooter. I put out a B.O.L.O. Sam interviewed an old woman that lives over there in the white bungalow but she claims she didn't see it happen."

Nick turned back to Kevin, "You're lucky you didn't get killed. The van info will help us but it's not worth you getting shot. Your car's going to be towed to impound as evidence. Do you need a ride somewhere?"

Kevin nodded his head. "Yeah, thanks. I could go to my grandma's house. She'll let me use her car."

Nick said, "Finish getting patched up and I'll drive you there as soon as I'm done."

Nick walked over to look at the inside of Kevin's car and the glass in the street. He stared down to the corner and saw a small strip mall sign peeking past the apartment building. He walked over to Sam who was interviewing the good Samaritan that had been directing traffic away from the scene.

Nick listened to the man explain that he heard the shots and ducked down behind his dining room table. When the shooting stopped, he came out, saw Kevin's car and called 911. He looked at Nick and said, "Ain't you Stryker? I've seen your picture a million times in the paper." He smiled wide and extended his hand to shake. "My name's Raymond."

Nick shook his hand and smiled back. "Any chance you caught a glimpse of the vehicle or the shooter?"

"Naw. It was long gone by the time I got out here. Tell you the truth, I 'spected that guy was dead for sure. Sounded like at least thirty rounds fired."

Nick looked down the street. "What's down that way? Any businesses?"

"Yeah. Liquor store, corner grocery, all the usual."

Nick turned to Sam, "You and Wayne check over there for cameras when we finish here. We might get lucky." Nick asked, "Does Jen have the vehicle info?"

"Wayne called it to her before you got here. She was going to have the techs compare plates to registered vehicles of medical establishments first. C.S.U. is taking shell casings and bullets. The coroner just left the brewery, so it'll be hours before he gets back to us." Sam glanced back at Wayne and said, "Seems all we have is this partial plate number." Sam slid his small notebook into his jacket pocket. "And the fact that this van matches the kids' description of the brewery van."

Nick said, "That's more than we had an hour ago. Shooter was not a pro. He only had to take a couple of more steps to make sure Kevin was dead."

Nick turned slowly, taking in the neighborhood. A three story apartment building was on the corner. Some windows were boarded over; some had curtains. Grocery carts dotted the overgrown landscaping next to the brick building's parking lot. Grocery carts were often 'borrowed' by the elderly to transport staples from local stores. Too poor to own vehicles, the senior citizens often found that the only way to transport their groceries was to walk. In Chicago, pushing a grocery cart for blocks in the snow meant that the feeble depended on the charity of their neighbors.

The neighborhood homes, while screaming deferred maintenance, defiantly displayed pride with the occasional flag on the porch and potted flowers. It was just one of many forgotten neighborhoods consumed in poverty and trying desperately to hold back the inevitable infestation of crime. Nick saw a neighborhood watch sign in the window of a small blue house across the street. The house stood out from the others because of the meticulous yard.

Nick walked back to Raymond. "Your neighborhood watch guy home in the mornings?"

Raymond shook his head. "That's Charles. He died two days ago from a heart attack." Raymond suddenly smiled, "But he's got a damn good camera on his porch! Points right this way!"

Nick finally felt that buzz he got with a good lead. "Any chance you know how we can contact a family member to get that camera?"

"That would be me. Charles ain't got no family, but I was his best friend. He put that house in my name a couple of years ago so's not to have to pay property taxes." He held up a set of keys. "Got the key right here, you can take anything you need."

Nick motioned to Wayne and Sam. "Might have a camera across the street."

Nick, Raymond, Wayne and Sam walked over to Charles's house, unlocked the door and stepped into a time machine. The furnishings were decades old but tidy. The only adornment to the living room walls was a yellowed wedding picture that hung next to a large cross and a few cob webs. A low bookshelf held dozens of notebooks and a small television. The faint odor of bacon grease hung in the air. Nick could see through to the kitchen where a short stack of folded laundry waited on the corner of the chrome legged kitchen table. A single plate and cup rested in the dish drainer on the counter. The morning sunlight bounced from the sink faucet to the deep green leaves of a sweet potato vine cutting birthing from a water glass on the windowsill.

Heavy drapes were pulled open at the front picture window. A foldout card table and chair faced the street beyond. This had been Charles's perch to watch the neighborhood. A pair of binoculars sat proudly next to a calendar filled with scribbles, a cordless phone and a small alarm clock. An index card holder was filled with names, phone numbers and addresses, mostly people living in the neighborhood. A stack of small spiral notebooks sat on the corner of the table. One notebook was placed face down and open. Nick began flipping the pages back. The last entry was dated two days prior.

Nick glanced at Wayne and smiled. "He kept a journal." Charles had made dozens of entries for each day. It seemed his meticulous lawn was simply an opportunity to provide a better vantage point for neighborhood observations. Nick noticed an entry from three days ago. He glanced at Raymond.

"Charles has an entry here that says 'Remind Raymond to close his blinds at night. My, my'."

Raymond slapped his forehead. "Dang it all!"

Sam's voice came from the corner of the room. "I've got the video from the camera, and it's been running. Sweet set up. Video storage automatically goes to a cloud for retrieval."

Nick and Wayne walked over.

Wayne asked, "Can you back it up and play it on this monitor?"

Sam pressed his lips together in concentration and began entering commands on the keyboard. Soon they were watching a man with an AK47 blanketing Kevin's car with bullets. The angle didn't show the plates but they got a good picture of the shooter.

Raymond said, "I've seen that van before. Goes down the street a couple of times a week. Charles was real mad at 'em. Said they were always speedin'. Nearly ran over Ruby. He sprayed 'em once with his garden hose, right through the driver's open window." Raymond shook his head and laughed. "Thought for sure they'd pull over and beat the crap out of him."

Nick reached for the stack of notebooks. "How long ago was the garden hose incident?"

Raymond scratched his head. "I'd say about a month ago. Didn't stop 'em from racing through here though. Charles called the cops on 'em all the time."

Nick met Wayne's smile with his own. "We just caught another break."

******

John cursed as he threaded the grey van through traffic as quickly as he could without actually speeding. The last thing he needed was for the cops to pull him over with an AK47 and a doped up woman in the back of the van. He glanced at the two men with him, Vince and Juan. He could tell from their expressions they were worried, too. He should have just out run the damn Prius instead of shooting it. Impulse control. Wasn't that what Tony kept saying he lacked?

John slapped the dash in anger. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He was afraid of Tony's crazy temper. He knew that Tony being his brother-in-law had limits. The cops wouldn't have the body bags if he'd done his job Saturday.

Vince cleared his throat and said, "Maybe we should dump that girl somewhere before the cops stop us."

John glanced at him, "And be seen dumpin' her? Besides, Tony expects a delivery. Gettin' the girl is the only thing we've done right."

Vince persisted. "Somebody must have seen you shoot the hell out of the guy back there. You know damn well every cop in Chicago is lookin' for this van. I say we dump the girl and the gun."

John snarled, "The cops were at the brewery which means they have the body bags, idiot. We're already screwed."

Just then a police car sped up behind them with lights flashing. John cursed and started to pull the van over to the curb. The cop passed them and kept going. John's heart pounded in his chest. Vince was right, he couldn't just keep driving around Chicago. He took out his phone and called Tony. John explained everything that had happened. After a moment John slipped his phone into his pocket and glanced at the others.

Vince asked, "Well? How mad is he? What'd he say?"

Juan stopped picking at a sore on his arm and waited for John's answer.

John gave the van a little more gas. "He said to bring the girl to the hospital. That's all he said."

******

Sunrise Specialty Hospital was a private facility that sat proudly in the center of a ten-acre manicured plot, only minutes from downtown Chicago. Dr. Antonio Scalla, Tony, left a prestigious surgical practice to become part owner and administrator for the facility six years ago. The decision had been an easy one at the time, more money than he had ever imagined with only one caveat; he was partnered with the mob.

The main hospital structure was a massive brick three story covered in ivy and looking more like a residential mansion than a hospital. Two single story wings protruded from the back of the main building. One was for recipient patient intake and the other was for receiving organ donations. The organ donor receiving station had automatic doors that allowed for vehicle entry only into a large holding bay. At the end of the bay was a secured elevator that went to the isolation portion of the segregated basement. Entry to that basement area was closely supervised and restricted.

Wealthy patients from around the world gladly paid outrageous sums to ensure Sunrise catered to their needs, often insisting on protected identities. With state of the art equipment and the world's best surgeons vetting for staff positions, Tony could well afford to offer the best of the best.

By all measures Sunrise Specialty Hospital had earned its prestigious reputation within the medical community. Groundbreaking procedures had brought world fame to Chicago, the surgery staff, and to Tony. Only a small handful of people knew the truth about the source of some of the organ donors; two senior surgeons, the 'snatch team', Tony and Lucas.

Tony paced his office after he hung up from talking to John. He had to regain his composure, he wanted to shoot all three of them as soon as they arrived. Unfortunately, he needed them. He inhaled deeply and slowly released his breath through pursed lips. He would have to wait for revenge.

Now he had two huge new problems. The cops had found medical waste at the brewery and John had shot some guy that had been following the van. Tony plopped into his office chair and rested his head in his hands. He began an analysis of the situation. The medical bags could have come from anywhere. The cops couldn't link them to him. John said no one had seen the shooting. It was possible but in a city of cameras he'd rather be safe. He decided he would get rid of the van and report it as stolen.

The girl. John had her in the van. She would have to be held in the hospital's isolation basement now that the brewery had been discovered. Tony glanced at his watch, he would need to drug her again soon. It would be tricky to keep her alive for any length of time. The longer she was held at the hospital the more likely someone would notice her. All medical and janitorial staff would need to be kept out of the basement. Tony drummed his fingers next to his desk phone and debated calling Lucas.

How could he speed up this surgery without alerting Lucas something had gone wrong? Lucas wouldn't authorize scheduling the surgery until he got paid. Tony began to pace again. He would have to be careful. He had survived because he didn't make mistakes. Lucas was a scary character. He wasn't just 'connected' to the Chicago mob, he held a position with the international Family.

One word from Lucas and Tony was dead.

******

Nick and Kevin were almost to Kevin's grandma's house when Kevin said, "I'm not going to run that story about those people coming in and confessing they killed you."

Nick glanced over, "Good. What made you change your mind?"

"Peter's my brother. We have the same mom." Kevin twisted in the seat belt to face Nick better. "He's upset about this; he doesn't need to read about it in the paper. We think he was hypnotized."

"Could be."

Kevin leaned back against the seat. "Then the question is 'why', right? If somebody had that kind of power over people wouldn't they have them do something for real? Not confess to something they didn't do?" Kevin pointed to a small white house with potted flowers draped over the porch banisters. "We're here."

Nick pulled over to the curb and parked. "Someone was able to get to Peter. Do you have any ideas?"

"None. He doesn't have a life. All he does is work." Kevin winced as he unbuckled his seat belt and lifted himself out of the car. He looked back at Nick. "What do you want me to report about this shooting?"

Nick rested his forearm against the steering wheel. "It would be nice if you didn't mention we had a partial plate or connect it to the brewery case."

Kevin nodded. "Gotcha. Bury it in the back and leave out details." Kevin shut the car door and spoke through the open window. "You know; Jack is going to think I'm the worst reporter in Chicago. Not only was I on the scene, I was a victim, and still didn't get any info?"

Nick chuckled, "Tell him you passed out."

"Yeah, I could probably convince him I'm both a wimp and an idiot."

Nick watched Kevin walk up the porch steps and ring the doorbell. A short, grey haired woman opened the door and greeted him with a bear hug. Nick pulled away from the curb and headed back to the precinct. He was anxious to go through the ledgers and videos from Charles' house and track down the grey van. He glanced at his watch and wondered if the coroner had an ID yet on the family. Probably not.

Just then Nick's cell buzzed with a call. The ID announced it was the Coroner's office.

"Hey Doc. What've you got for me?"

The coroner answered, "We got lucky. The adult male prints were in the government system data base. Postal employee...out of Dayton, Ohio. I did a census search with the I.R.S. and got the family names. Marvin Shultz. Wife is Carla, daughter is Allison. I sent the info to Jen just before calling you." There was a long pause, "I haven't determined a cause of death yet. I wanted to get you these names."

Nick asked, "Anything else you can give me now?"

"A skilled surgeon did the removals. I'm running tissue and tox screens but I'm not expecting much. Their organs would have been useless if they died of poisons or gasses. Physical trauma would have left marks. There's only so many ways three people die at the same time. That brings me back to you, Nick. I'll call you when I have more."

Nick pressed the accelerator. The coroner's words echoed through his thoughts, "There are only so many ways three people die at the same time." He could feel the adrenaline racing in his veins, anger pumping in his temples. This family was murdered. His jaw set. The image of the little girl's face flooded his mind. Allison, her name was Allison.

******

Dolly and Darla watched as Cynthia closed her eyes and sniffed at her fist full of cash. She stuffed the five thousand dollars into an envelope and then giggled as she crammed it into her purse. She seemed to be totally unaware that Dolly and Darla were still there.

Darla gently kicked Dolly's ankle and tilted her head toward Cynthia.

Dolly moved her leg away and asked Darla, "What?"

Cynthia looked up to see Darla frowning at Dolly.

Cynthia asked, "What?"

Darla exhaled loudly and blurted out, "I was hoping you'd explain why you shot that painting."

Cynthia lowered her purse to the floor and shrugged. "He pissed me off. Mr. Woo." Cynthia smoothed her hair back with her hand and said thoughtfully, "I never planned to shoot the painting. It just happened."

Dolly raised her eyebrows and lowered her voice. "Do you make a habit of shooting people that piss you off?"

Cynthia gasped, "Of course not! I told you I don't know why I did it!"

Darla touched Dolly's arm, "Let's not get all excited here." She was clearly worried about Cynthia's temperament and the fact that Cynthia's gun was within easy reach.

Cynthia wiped a tear from her cheek. "That man insulted me and my art! He could have single handedly made my career with very little effort. But no...he had to crush me! I even learned Mandarin to impress him!"

Dolly jumped up and said in Mandarin, "I'm learning Mandarin, too! Are you using the Sanford program?"

Cynthia's eyes opened wide and she answered in Mandarin, "Yes! I'm using the phone app."

Dolly raised her voice, still speaking Mandarin, "Me too! That's it! That's what we have in common!"

Cynthia's eyes opened wide, still speaking Mandarin, "I opened that app for a refresher just before I called Mr. Woo."

Darla jumped up and waved her arms at the two of them. "What the hell are you two saying? What's all this woo, chum, tang junk? Am I having a stroke?"

Dolly was so excited she grabbed Darla's shoulders and shook them. "We figured it out! Cynthia and I are both using the same Mandarin language program on our phones! That must be how we are being hypnotized!"

Darla sat back down, fanning her face with her hand. "Thank God."

Cynthia and Dolly sat back down and stared at each other.

Darla asked, "Now what?"

Cynthia tapped her pen on her desk and asked, "What do we do now? Talk to the cops or go find that Peter guy?"

Dolly answered, "Let's talk to Peter first, just to be sure."

Darla reached her hand out to Cynthia. "Until we confirm you two aren't crazy, I want your gun in my purse." Darla turned to face Dolly. "I know you're packin', too. Hand it over."

Dolly and Cynthia both handed their pistols to Darla.

Dolly frowned, "Last time you had a gun in your purse it didn't go so well."

Darla zipped her purse closed. "The judge said it wasn't my fault."

Cynthia cursed in Mandarin as she googled Peter's address.

# CHAPTER 8

Monday, 2:00 p.m.

John was relieved to finally pull the van into the safety of the receiving bay garage at the hospital. He was finally hidden from the cops. He glanced back at Sharon to make sure she was still unconscious and then dialed Tony. "We're here. You want me to take her downstairs?"

Tony glanced at his watch, it was already two in the afternoon. He had ordered the janitorial staff out of the isolation basement until further notice. He had also posted bio hazard posters outside of the service elevator, warning no entry. It should be safe.

Tony's voice clipped out, "I'll meet you in the basement. Just you and the girl." He hung up.

John swallowed. The prospect of being alone with Tony in that basement sent a shiver up his spine. John turned to Juan, "You bring that gurney from the corner over there and help Vince strap her in. I'll take her down myself and see what Tony wants us to do. Stay inside here! We don't need hospital staff spotting you hangin' around and callin' security."

John lit a cigarette and paced near the elevator door as Vince and Juan lifted Sharon's limp body onto the gurney. Tony was furious. John took a long draw on the cigarette and then dropped it onto the polished concrete floor. He twisted his shoe on the cigarette butt, picked the butt up and placed it in his pocket. The air conditioned bay did little to slow the beads of sweat forming above his brow. His stomach cramped and his head was pounding. He gave each of the three straps holding Sharon a strong cinch and swiped his identification ID at the elevator's sensor. As soon as the button turned green he pushed it and shoved the gurney into the elevator and against the far wall.

He turned, his finger paused over the 'down' button and said, "One of you call me in fifteen minutes. If I don't answer, get the hell out of Chicago!"

The elevator door closed.

Vince looked at his watch and then glanced at Juan. "Shit!"

******

Tony watched the elevator door open and looked at the girl on the gurney. He glanced up at John, "At least you got this right." He grabbed the gurney and pushed it toward the wall that held the life monitoring equipment inside of the isolation room.

Tony glared back at John through the glass walls of the room. He decided to hook up Sharon to the monitors after he got rid of John. He walked out of the room to where John nervously shifted his weight from side to side. He pushed John hard against the far wall and pressed his forearm tight to John's throat. Spittle flew from Tony's mouth as he snarled, "I don't have time to deal with you right now. Scrub that van, use different plates and drive it somewhere to dump it. Then put the original plates back on it and call me. Got it? I'm going to report it stolen in one hour!"

John felt his throat crushing under Tony's force and nodded as best as he could. There was no way he could speak.

Tony released his grip with a jerk and pointed to the elevator. "Get out of my sight."

******

Sharon felt the sensation of leaving a dream unfinished. One by one her senses were trying to break free to consciousness. What was that smell? Bleach. Bleach and antiseptic. Her thoughts were trying to climb out of a deep dark hole. Her throat was dry, her tongue swollen, her lips couldn't move. Was she paralyzed? Why wouldn't her eyes open?

That smell... stronger now. She tried to cover her nose but neither of her arms would move. Her legs wouldn't move either. That smell was creeping into her mind through her nostrils. She could see it's sneaky vapor twisting its way through her head. A sickening sweet, metallic rope twisting through her thoughts.

Movie-like scenes flashed from her mind to the back of her eyelids. Something had happened. She concentrated on the flashing images, willing them to focus, slow down. Her car...a man...a gun. A distant voice in her head screamed, 'Danger! Escape!'. It was her voice. Her heart began to pound.

She tried moving her arms again, nothing. Flashes of light were peeking through her eye lashes. Fluorescent bulbs blasted down on her from above. That smell. Was she in a hospital? Her car...she had been kidnapped...and drugged. She must be safe now, in a hospital...her eyelids closed again and she dreamt of falling. Falling into an endless black hole.

******

Tony sat at the desk in the corner going through Sharon's purse. He removed twenty-three dollars from her wallet and stuffed it into his pocket. He used scissors to cut her charge cards and personal identification. He tossed it all into a waste disposal bag for delivery to the crematorium later.

He twisted his chair to glance toward the gurney. He still had to get blood and tissue samples to confirm a compatible match. He prepared a metal tray with a syringe and scalpel. The clock on the wall reminded him she was due for more drugs to keep her out. He pulled the nearly empty vile from his pocket and loaded a second syringe with the remainder of the drug. This would only last another hour. He would have to get more from the hospital pharmacy.

He carried the metal tray to her bedside, loosened the top two straps and began cutting tissue from the underside of her arm. Sharon winced from pain and jerked her arm from Tony's grip. Her face now turned toward Tony, her eyes opened wide as she tried desperately to focus.

Tony startled. The metal tray clanged as it crashed to the floor and skipped to the wall. His scalpel flew from his hand. He quickly bent down to grab the syringe of drugs. He grabbed Sharon's arm with such force his fingers were turning white as he injected her with the remaining three ccs. Sharon's eyes stared at him in terror as her lips tried to form words. Finally, her eyelids fluttered and began to close.

His heart pounded. His hands shook as he cinched the straps tight on the gurney and backed away. He took a few deep breaths. That was too close.

******

Nick entered the Homicide room to find Wayne, Sam and Jen engrossed in their monitor screens. He walked over to his desk and waited for Jen to finish. Jen leaned back and shook her head. "This is going to take a while to find this van."

Nick asked, "Is that what Wayne and Sam are working on too?"

Sam answered, "I'm reading over traffic reports to see if anyone bothered to follow up on the complaints Charles called in."

Nick noticed Jen had written the names of the body bag family on their big white murder board. Marvin, Carla and Allison Schultz. Nick pointed at the board and asked, "Have we gotten anything else from the coroner?"

Jen shook her head. "Nothing yet. I sent the video from your neighborhood watch guy to the FBI for facial recognition on that shot of the shooter."

Wayne held up a scrap of paper. "I called the Post Office in Dayton and got Marvin Shultz's emergency contact number. It's a sister here in Chicago. I haven't called yet."

Nick walked over and took the paper. "I'll call her now." He sat looking at the name on the paper. Elizabeth Hull. Nick entered the number into his phone and waited.

On the third ring a woman's voice answered, "Hello?"

"This is Detective Stryker, Chicago P.D. Are you Elizabeth Hull, the sister of Marvin Schultz?"

There was a long silence. "Yes. What's wrong?"

Nick answered, "I need to ask you some questions about Marvin if I could please come to your home now?"

Another long pause. Finally, she gave Nick her address and stated she would wait for him. "Can you at least tell me if Marvin's okay?"

Nick glanced at Jen who was listening and then said, "I'd rather discuss this in person with you Ms. Hull. I'll be there within the hour."

Nick exhaled after the call ended.

Jen asked, "Can I come with you?"

Nick tossed the unit car keys to her. "You drive and I'll read over some of Charles' journals. She's not that far from here."

Nick stood to walk over to Wayne's desk and noticed the brown paper package leaning against the back of his desk. "What's this?"

Jen glanced over. "U.P.S. delivered it about an hour ago."

Wayne yelled over, "Make sure it isn't ticking!"

Nick lifted it onto their small conference table and tore off the brown wrapping paper. A large portrait of an elderly Chinese man stared back at him with a bullet hole between his eyes. Nick glanced at the lower right hand corner artist signature. It was Cynthia Bronson.

Wayne walked over and looked. "What the hell?"

Nick rubbed his finger over the bullet hole and inspected the gunpowder residue on his finger. "Fresh." He turned to Wayne, "It seems Ms. Bronson still has murder on her mind."

Jen had walked over to look. She glanced at Nick. "Why would she shoot her painting and then send it to you?"

Wayne spoke before Nick could answer. "You two go talk to Marvin's sister and I'll get to the bottom of this. I'll call you."

******

Jen entered the address for Elizabeth Hull into the GPS of their unit. "Elizabeth Hull lives in the crown jewel of the Gold Coast."

Nick smiled, "I noticed that. Waldorf Astoria. She said an escort would direct us to her private elevator." Nick winked. He knew that Ms. Hull having a private elevator would set Jen off.

Jen twisted her mouth and said, "She has her own elevator? The building John and I live in barely keeps the one and only elevator working." She pulled into traffic and headed for the North side of Chicago. "I wonder what she does for a living? I read a real estate ad for one of those residential units at the Waldorf; 4000 square feet of luxury and a price tag in the millions!"

Nick had grabbed a couple of Charles' journals before they left and now opened one. "Talk about contrasts in life styles. Listen to this entry two weeks ago in Charles' journal; 'Cut myself today trying to open toothpaste tube to get the rest out. Razor nearly took off my thumb." Nick glanced at Jen. "He deeded his house to his neighbor because he needed the property tax and insurance money to live on."

Jen stared straight ahead as she twisted through the downtown traffic and reflected on life's inequities. "This case makes me sick."

Nick looked up from the journal. "My sister's name was Allison."

Jen nearly lost control of the car. When Nick was nine years old his six-year-old sister had been caught in crossfire in a mob fight and died in Nick's arms. A year later Nick's mom had gone into the FBI witness protection program, alone, and Nick had grown up with just his dad. Nick had lived twenty-five years believing his mom had abandoned him. It wasn't until last year that Nick found out his mom had left to protect Nick and his dad and had become an undercover agent for the FBI making cases against the mob. She retired and reunited with Nick and his dad just months ago after the death of Chicago Westside Crew leader, Dominick Guioni.

Jen had forgotten all about Nick's little sister. Nick had reunited with his mother and she had assumed his childhood scars were healed. She had stopped thinking of him as having a wounded soul.

The tone of his voice just now made her realized she was dead wrong. There was a fire in Nick's heart that was audible in his voice. The fire that drew him into becoming a decorated Navy SEAL. The fire that drove him as a homicide detective to relentlessly hunt down monsters. Now she knew the fire's name. Allison.

Jen pulled their car into the visitor parking garage, and parked at the closest spot to the lobby elevator. She turned to Nick and said, "I get it, Nick."

Nick reached for his door handle and said, "I wish Lacey did."

Jen was surprised Nick mentioned his fiancée. He was very private about their relationship. This was an admission that something was wrong.

Jen asked, "Can I help?"

Nick shrugged, "She's lonely and I make her feel insecure. I don't blame her...this is all on me. She claims I choose to chase killers instead of spending time with her. It's worse than that but she doesn't know. I don't even think about her when I'm on a case."

It sounded harsh hearing Nick state it that way. Jen knew he was being completely honest.

She said, "I don't have an answer."

"I don't think there is one."

The sadness in Nick's eyes made her want to cry for him. It made her think of John, her husband, when he admitted to her last year that he nearly asked her for a divorce. He felt ignored and trapped until he discovered he enjoyed writing. His escape into writing fiction novels fed a passion for him that bought her some time to work on their problems. Lacey wouldn't be that easy. Lacey loved Nick and expected him to change. Nick was right; there wasn't an easy answer.

As they walked to the lobby desk Jen said, "Don't underestimate the power of love."

Fourteen stories above the lobby Nick and Jen were greeted by Elizabeth Hull in a large mahogany foyer. Nick was surprised by her casual appearance in such posh surroundings. She was tall, lean and barefoot. She wore an oversized T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Her long black hair was scrunched into a loose bun on top of her head and reminded him of Lacey whenever she was taking a 'lazy day'.

Elizabeth stepped forward and offered her hand to Nick. "I'm Elizabeth. I'm sorry but I forgot your name."

Nick shook her hand. "This is Detective Jen Taylor and I'm Detective Nick Stryker."

Elizabeth limply shook Nick's hand and smiled at Jen. "Please...come in and have a seat."

She turned, the scent of jasmine trailed her through the grand foyer and into a massive sitting room. The furnishings were contemporary, stark white and very expensive. Elizabeth Hull definitely had money. She gestured to a pair of overstuffed white leather chairs for them to sit as she folded her legs and her bare feet underneath her on the couch. A white wool throw was draped over the corner of the couch. Elizabeth tugged it to her and covered her lap.

Nick recognized her posture as one of protection and insecurity. Elizabeth was scared. Jen was used to women immediately being taken with Nick's good looks and instantly becoming flirtatious. Elizabeth wasn't interested.

Nick said, "Jen is going to record our interview if that is okay?"

Elizabeth nodded. "On the phone you asked me about Marvin. Has something happened?"

Jen placed the recorder on the glass top of the coffee table and answered, "When was the last time you spoke to Marvin?"

Elizabeth leaned forward. "A few days ago. Thursday? He called me from the airport. He said they were going to visit mother and maybe do some sightseeing for a couple of days before coming here." Elizabeth's chin quivered. "Please, you're scaring me. Is Marvin okay? Has something happened?"

Nick leaned forward, "Marvin is dead, Elizabeth. We are trying to determine what happened."

"Dead? How? When? Why hasn't Carla called me?"

Jen glanced at Nick. "Carla and Allison are dead, too."

Elizabeth gasped and placed her hands over her heart. "Was it an auto crash? I don't understand...you said you were detectives."

Nick shifted his body to reflect a more sympathetic posture. He placed his elbows on his knees. He made a teepee with his hands and rested his chin on his fingertips. This brought him closer to Elizabeth and allowed him to slightly lower his voice. There was no easy way to tell someone their loved ones were dead. "Their remains were discovered this morning. The circumstances are suspicious. We're homicide detectives."

Elizabeth stared at Nick in disbelief and then glanced at Jen. "Suspicious? Are you saying they were murdered? Even...little Allison?"

Jen fought back tears. The vision of the family stuffed in body bags flashed forward from her memory. "It's very early in our investigation, Elizabeth. There isn't much information we have been able to confirm yet." Jen swallowed, "We should hear more from the coroner later today."

Nick said, "I know this is difficult for you but we need your help. Which airport did Marvin call you from?"

"O'Hare." Elizabeth's hands were shaking and her voice was barely audible. A steady stream of tears trailed down both of her cheeks.

Nick continued. "You said they were here for sightseeing and to visit your mother. What is your mother's address?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Here. This is mother's house. Our family owns Schultz Energy. I moved here a few months ago to help her out. She has medical issues right now and is staying at a private care facility." Her eyes opened wide. "Dear God, this will kill her!"

Nick asked, "Were you close to Marvin? Do you know of anyone that had a problem with him?"

Elizabeth folded her arms over her chest and began slightly rocking. "Other than mother? She never forgave him for leaving the family business to become a public servant." Elizabeth dabbed her eyes. "He was an environmentalist. We own an energy company." She waved her hand in the air. "No one could have a problem with Marvin. He was gentle, sweet, kind..." Her voice choked off, she closed her eyes and raised her chin toward the ceiling. "Dear God, he died not knowing."

Nick asked, "Not knowing what?"

"That he was really mother's favorite. She admired his passion and humanity. Mother has trouble showing affection. She considers it as a sign of weakness. Marvin always felt mother abandoned him."

Jen felt a pang in her heart. She had been raised by a mother like that. Her mother had died and Jen never knew if her mother even liked her. She understood Elizabeth's angst for her brother. Nick had grown up believing his mother had abandoned him. Was there any family that wasn't dysfunctional?

Nick and Jen left after an hour. Elizabeth was emotionally spent and asked them to let themselves out. Her sobs echoed in the cavernous room behind them as Jen and Nick entered the elevator.

Jen pushed the button for the lobby and turned to face Nick. "This kills me every time."

"Every time."

******

Nick and Jen quickly began calling the auto rental businesses at O'Hare from the parking garage at the Waldorf Astoria. Nick was in the driver's seat and Jen stood outside the car so her voice wouldn't interfere with Nick's calls. She opened the passenger door and got in. "Can you give me the VIN number please?"

Nick hung up his call and opened his laptop. "Get the GPS code."

Jen nodded as she opened her small notebook and wrote down a number. "Thanks, Joel. I'll let you know what we find."

Jen handed the number to Nick who quickly entered it into the GPS data base. They both stared at the screen as the cursor circled. Finally, a map appeared with a red dot and an address. Jen wrote the address down and frowned. "What's over there? I thought it was mostly abandoned railroad buildings."

"Perfect place to dump a car." Nick turned the ignition and backed out of the parking space. He handed Jen his laptop. "Write down the GPS history. Somewhere between the airport and this address, Marvin met his killer."

# CHAPTER 9

Monday, 4:00 p.m.

Back at the 107th precinct Wayne slammed his desk drawer shut, stood and grabbed his keys. "That artist chick isn't answering her phone. Pisses me off! I told them all to stay available. The people at the gallery say she isn't there but I'm going over anyway. That painting didn't ship itself here."

Sam pulled away from his monitor and said, "Yeah, fine. I'm going to be all year going through these plate numbers for that van. I'm still picking hay from the corporate haystack to get the real owner of the brewery and there's nothing new from the coroner."

Wayne stopped at Sam's desk. "Do you have the addresses for our three confessors handy? I might end up making some house calls."

Sam handed Wayne a copy of his report from this morning. "You might take a picture of that portrait over there with your phone." Sam frowned. "These confessors couldn't have picked a worse time to dump this shit on Nick. If this is some kind of joke they won't be laughing when Nick figures it out."

"It better not be a joke. Nick won't be their only problem." Wayne stood in front of the painting and took a few pictures.

Sam continued talking from across the room. "There's something wrong with this whole hypnotizing mess."

"Ya think? Call me if you get anything on the van."

Wayne drove downtown to the gallery and waited for the gallery hostess to finish talking to an elderly man.

She finally walked over to him, her expensive white veneers flashing a trained smile. "Can I help you find something special today?"

"Yeah." Wayne flashed his badge at her and watched her eyes widen and her veneers retreat behind pressed lips. "Cynthia Bronson. Is she here?"

"Uh...no. She left with some friends a couple of hours ago. I can give you her number."

"I've got it. Her phone is turned off." Wayne pulled up his photo of the portrait and turned it to face the hostess. "What can you tell me about this?"

"It's sold. Cynthia sold it this morning."

"With or without the bullet hole?"

"With. She just shot it this morning! That's what sold it. Can you imagine? Just like Andy Warhol."

Wayne vaguely remembered the story about Andy Warhol's Marilyn paintings. He asked, "Who bought it?"

The hostess answered, "Some man. I've never seen him before."

Wayne looked around and spotted cameras. "Do you have a receipt?"

"Of course, but he paid cash. Five thousand dollars. He had the painting wrapped and left."

Wayne walked over to the sales desk with the hostess and looked at the receipt she handed him. The purchaser name on the receipt was signed, Nick Stryker. "I'm going to need a copy of this. I want your camera feed for today, too."

The hostess rolled her eyes. "She has a permit to carry that gun you know and in Chicago that's no easy thing."

Wayne frowned and pointed to the camera near the ceiling. "Camera feed, please."

******

Cynthia, Darla and Dolly sat outside of Peter's house in Cynthia's car.

Darla finally said, "Are we going to go to the door or stalk him?"

Dolly opened the back door of the car and said, "Let's go. If we're right about the Mandarin software, we can't take the chance he turns it on and does something stupid."

Darla glanced at Cynthia and said, "Like shooting everyone that makes him mad?"

Cynthia looked back at Dolly. "She's right, you know. We don't know what kind of state of mind he might be in. He might have already signed into the program again."

Dolly grunted as she hefted herself out of the car. "Whatever. We're not helping anything sitting in the car."

Darla was the first to arrive at the massive mahogany door and pressed the doorbell. They waited a few minutes and Darla pressed it again.

Peter opened the door and squinted his eyes from the blast of afternoon sun. "Why are you here?"

Dolly cleared her throat to speak but Darla beat her to it. "We think we know what turned you three into fruitcakes."

Peter stood motionless.

"Well? Can we come in?"

He stepped back and watched as the women walked into his living room. As he closed the door he heard one of them shriek, "Oh my God!"

Peter spun around and quickly joined them. "What?"

Cynthia stood in the middle of the room pointing to the wall. "That's mine! You bought one of my paintings!"

Peter smiled and walked over to stand next to her. "I didn't realize this morning who you were. I love that painting. Sometimes I sit here with a scotch and just stare at it. I pretend I'm there. As you can see, it is the only painting in the room." Peter gazed at the mountain landscape and sighed. "Every time I consider buying another painting, I decide it isn't worthy to be hung near yours."

Cynthia dabbed a tear from her eye and lunged to give Peter a bear hug. She whispered in his ear, "You have no idea how you've touched me."

Darla cleared her throat. "If you two are finished gushing over each other we came here for a reason."

Dolly sat on Peter's couch and said, "You might as well sit down. We think we know what's going on."

Peter sat on the couch next to Cynthia.

Dolly asked, "By any chance are you studying Mandarin with the Sanford program?"

Peter blinked a couple of times and answered, "Why...yes, I am. How do you know that?"

Cynthia and Dolly both started speaking Mandarin to him. Peter joined in.

Darla shouted, "Not again! English, people!"

Peter looked at Cynthia. "You think we are being hypnotized through that program?"

Cynthia nodded and said, "All three of us have been studying the same program. I don't know about you, but Dolly and I have been logging in regularly for over a month now."

Peter said, "Me, too."

Cynthia continued, "The developer of this program, Dr. Derrick Sanford, is also a shrink. He wrote a paper that's online about hypnotism and dissociative behavior experiments. Most of his peers think he's a nutcase. All three of us confessed to the murder of Detective Stryker exactly the same way. Dark alley, throwing the gun in a dumpster..." Cynthia turned to face Peter closer. "This afternoon I logged into the program to refresh my vocabulary before I called a Chinese art agent. I had done a large portrait of this agent to impress him. When I talked to him on the phone, he insulted me. I was hurt and mad. Real mad. The next thing I knew..."

Darla interrupted. "She took out her gun and shot the painting. Right between the eyes."

Peter leaned back and frowned. Could this be true? Could they all be part of some hypnotic experiment?

Dolly said, "Now neither one of us can find the program on our phones. It just vanished!"

Peter stood. "Mine's on my laptop. Let's see if it's still there."

All three woman jumped up. "No!"

Cynthia said, "We looked up hypnotism before we came over here. It says that the most effective method is to engage your subject for long periods of time over several segments. Sanford's paper said that, too. If we've been hypnotized, it isn't safe for any of us to watch that program again."

Peter looked at Darla. "Maybe she could look at it and tell us what she sees."

Darla glanced at each of their expectant faces. "Fine. Where is it?"

Peter ushered them all into his dining room and pointed to a laptop on his table. "There."

Darla cracked her knuckles and sat in front of the laptop. "So you think since this is my first time looking at this it won't affect me like it would you, right?"

They all nodded.

"Here goes."

She quickly found the icon for the Mandarin program and double clicked to open it. At first she thought something was wrong. The screen filled with Chinese symbols and faint music. She clicked the audio off in case it was part of the problem. After a few minutes she was ready to declare their mission failed when the face of Mayor Emanuel filled the screen.

Darla said, "Oh shit! Don't look! Go in the other room. I have to turn the volume back up."

Peter, Dolly and Cynthia walked back to the living room and waited.

After about twenty minutes Darla appeared in the doorway.

She looked pale and terrified. "Holy shit!" Darla sat down. "Well, the good news is as soon as that 'lesson' finished the whole program deleted itself from your laptop. I checked twice. It's gone."

Peter quietly asked, "And the bad news?"

Darla waved an envelope from Peter's desk she had filled with notes. "There are some serious instructions here for you to follow that end up with you shooting Mayor Emanuel!"

******

Kevin parked his grandmother's car in front of the Tribune building and walked to Sharon's desk area. She wasn't there. Her boss, Chester, walked down the hall and stopped when he saw Kevin. "What in the hell happened to you?"

Kevin had removed most of the bandages from his face but his forehead and neck were still covered in the bloody rectangles.

"I was behind a car windshield that was blasted with an AK47."

Chester's mouth dropped open.

Kevin asked, "Do you know where Sharon is?"

"She's supposed to be with you."

Kevin winced as he yanked another bandage from his neck. "She never showed."

Chester motioned Kevin to follow him back to his office.

Chester pulled a file from his cabinet and said, "Let's call her."

"She's not answering."

Chester closed the file and frowned. "I don't like this. She was very excited to meet you. She told me you were letting her help with a story. I watched her run out of the building."

Kevin rested his arms on Chester's desk. "The last time I talked to her she said she was on her way and should be there in about ten minutes."

Chester opened Sharon's file. "She lives with her grandmother. Maybe something has happened." Chester dialed Sharon's grandmother's number and waited for her to answer. "Mrs. Perez? Is Sharon there with you?"

Chester shook his head at Kevin, said goodbye to Mrs. Perez and started tapping his pen on the folder. "Let's start calling hospitals."

******

Wayne pulled up in front of Peter's house. By now he was furious. He hadn't been able to reach Dolly or Cynthia by phone and neither were home. He decided to surprise Peter with a visit. He walked up Peter's steps and rang the doorbell.

Peter answered right away. "You're one of the detectives from this morning aren't you?"

Wayne answered, "Yes. We need to talk."

Peter nodded and said, "Sure. The other gals are here, too. We think we've figured out what's happening and it isn't good."

Wayne's heart sunk. How bad could this day get?

Peter said, "I'm being told to shoot the Mayor."

Wayne walked in and listened to them explain Cynthia's shooting of the painting, how they were all taking the Mandarin program and how Darla had watched the last transmission on Peter's laptop.

Wayne rubbed his temples and dialed the department geek used for cybercrimes. After a long muffled conversation in the dining room Wayne returned to the others. He was carrying Peter's laptop.

He looked at Darla. "Give me your notes from this video you watched. I need all of your phones and I need you all to meet me at the station. Our tech will download this information, we'll take statements and then you can go home." He raised his voice. "Then leave your friggin' phones on! If I need to find you and can't, I'll slam your asses in jail. Got it?"

Darla unzipped her purse and asked, "You want my phone too? I never even took that class." Wayne nodded and Darla dumped her purse on the couch to find her phone. Cynthia and Dolly's guns dropped out and Wayne drew his pistol.

"Do not move!"

# CHAPTER 10

Nick and Jen were within two blocks of the GPS signal on Marvin's rental car. They had passed the last habitable home two blocks back. Next, was a full block of boarded up houses, then vacant lots. The street ended two blocks from where they were. A red brick three story building sat vacant with partially boarded over windows. A large Conrail sign hung precariously from one corner on the broken chain link fence to the vast parking lot beyond. The railroad had vacated the building decades ago but still owned the property. Ghostly remnants of the cargo warehouse buildings gallantly fought to remain upright. The evolution of their surrender to gravity littering the tangle of terminal tracks. Only the weeds and shrubs breaking through the cracks in the pavement prospered in this neighborhood.

Nick pointed to the building that capped the end of the street. "Bet the car is behind that building."

Jen unfastened her seat belt and took one last glance at the GPS map on Nick's laptop. "We've come a long way from the Waldorf." She closed the lid of the laptop and slipped it into its bracket under the dash. "It would take a while for patrol to find anything back here."

Nick drove their car through the opened gate and around to the back of the building. A black GMC Terrain SUV with rental plates sat at the edge of the lot facing the back fence. Right next to it sat a silver Honda. Neither car showed signs of vandalism yet. A row of seven vehicles, not so lucky, lined the back of the building. The isolated parking lot had become a junk yard.

Jen walked slowly around the rental SUV while Nick entered the security code to unlock the doors. A pop sound preceded the back hatch door slowly rising. Two suitcases and a small carry-on bag decorated with the Disney 'Frozen' characters of Elsa and Anna waited within.

Nick put on his latex gloves and pulled the Frozen case forward and unzipped it. A wardrobe of little girl's clothing was neatly rolled and stacked, predominately pink. A small zip bag was half full with hair accessories. A children's book titled, "Let's Love Each Other" was tucked in a side pocket and a small change purse held a variety of coins and a tiny tooth wrapped in foil. Nick zipped the bag closed again and walked to the driver's door.

Nick's set jaw and silence spoke volumes. He was fighting to keep his temper from taking over. Jen understood all too well, she wasn't a rookie. She had seen a lot of horror as a homicide detective, but that little girl's suitcase, packed for a vacation with her parents, tore her heart open.

Jen dialed Central Control to get a Crime Scene Unit dispatched there. Nick had been looking over the driver's area and found a phone lodged between the driver's seat and the console. The last call on the phone had been from Elizabeth. A slip of paper was peeking from under the passenger seat. Nick pulled it out and saw someone had penned directions to the Science Museum. The rest of the interior looked clean except for a small puddle on the backseat that looked like vomit.

Jen was writing down the VIN number on the silver Honda. Nick walked over. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Probably." Jen called in the numbers and then began writing on her notepad. "Go to our database and see if we have an employer for her." Nick read Jen's scribbles. Sharon Perez. Birthdate, address and insurance company. Jen said thank you and hung up. "She works at the Tribune. Isn't that where Kevin works? Maybe he knows her."

Nick had Kevin's cell number in his phone. He tapped the call-button and waited for Kevin to pick up.

Kevin answered, "Nick?"

Nick asked, "I know this is a long shot but do you know a Sharon Perez that works at the Tribune?"

Kevin nearly shouted. "Yes! I'm in her boss's office now. We've been trying to find her. She was supposed to meet me at the brewery to help with the story."

Nick had considered the fact that Sharon's car being dumped next to Marvin's car may mean they had crossed paths with the same people. Criminals were creatures of habit. Finding a good location to dump cars often meant it was used many times before being discovered. It seemed unlikely that there was a reasonable explanation for Sharon to leave her car at this location.

Nick said, "We found her car."

Kevin's heart sunk. "You found her car? Where?" Kevin's thoughts were colliding. Why wouldn't Sharon have been with her car?

Nick didn't want Kevin inserting himself into his investigation. "How well do you know her?"

Kevin sighed, "I was hoping to get to know her better. I invited her to help me with the brewery story, she wants to be a reporter. The last time I spoke to her she was on her way to meet me." Kevin paused and then said, "Homicide wouldn't be following up on a stolen car. What aren't you telling me?" Kevin felt a wave of fear wash through his mind. "Look, you know that I can be trusted. Tell me where you found her car."

Nick said, "You can't get to it right now. We have C.S.U. coming and it will probably be taken to impound."

Kevin's heart began to pound. "C.S.U.? Why? Is...is there blood in it or something?"

Nick told Kevin the address where Sharon's car was found and said, "If you can think of any reason she would be over this way, I need to know."

Kevin could picture the neighborhood Nick was talking about. Nothing would have drawn Sharon there. "There's no reason Sharon would have gone there. You still haven't explained why you called C.S.U."

"Her car was dumped next to the rental car that was used by the brewery family."

Kevin's voice cracked when he asked, "So you think whoever dumped her car, also dumped the brewery family car. Do I have this right?"

"Maybe."

"Oh my God. What if she's been kidnapped?" Kevin didn't wait for an answer. "The grey van! The asshole that shot at me...what if..."

Nick interrupted, "We're on it. None of this can hit the paper Kevin. I need time. Sharon needs time."

******

J.T. drove his rental car from the Indianapolis airport to a gun shop owned by a friend. He went to the back room and got his pistol and silencer from a locked safe he kept there. The gun shop owner nodded to him as he grabbed a few clips for his gun and left. The afternoon traffic was heavy and by the time he arrived at his company's satellite office it was nearly four o'clock. J.T. took the elevator to his second floor office and buzzed Matt, his most trusted associate.

Matt entered the office with an opened notepad anticipating a new project order.

J.T. motioned for Matt to take a seat and said, "I'm going to buy a software program that is parasite to any host program that requires long term visual contact with the user and multiple sessions of use. Right now it is running on a language tutorial program; 'Learn to speak Mandarin'." Matt took notes as J.T. continued. "The parasite allows user information to be extracted, classified into special groups, and targeted by specialized messaging depending on the program administrator's instructions. The majority of the users are simply learning Mandarin. The groups that are getting special messages are tracked by the system and classified as 'ready' when they have completed the hypnotic process and open to a dissociative suggestion."

J.T. smiled at the puzzled expression on Matt's face. "This will make sense in a minute. These 'special' classification users are sent hypnotic messages while using the program. The messages become so imbedded in the user's minds that the program can trigger the user to view an instruction video and obey it while in a dissociative state. The user will have no knowledge of why they did what they did. Once the user has received the dissociative task assignment the message program separates from the host program and disappears from the user's devices without trace."

Matt leaned back. "Can you give me an example?"

J.T. told him of the three subjects that walked into a homicide office and confessed to a murder they didn't commit.

Matt smiled. "When will you have it?"

"I need you to meet with the developer and get everything we need. It'll be soon."

Matt nodded and stood. "Sounds great."

J. T. watched Matt walk from the office and shut the door behind him. He could tell from Matt's reaction that he wasn't convinced the program could be used to their benefit. J.T. was certain. In fact, the more he thought about the possibilities the more he wanted it.

Today was a perfect example. He had received a notification from his phone that $300,000.00 had been wired to his account this morning. The job was in Indy. His agreement with the international organized crime Family was that he would be paid in advance for his hit services. It was troublesome enough to worry that someday law enforcement would find a way to trace those payments to him. It was a constant struggle to keep money hidden. His security company was legit; his clients weren't.

For years he had provided specialized 'hit' services to the Family as a side line to the security services. His access to data ensured few surprises and he enjoyed the killing. Time was not on his side. Sooner or later something would go wrong. Law enforcement was increasingly utilizing technology making each new hit riskier. Derrick's program would solve the problem of him being tied to any future hit. He would soon own the perfect alibi.

J.T.'s deal with the Family meant that he could return the money or accept the hit order. While he had the option to refuse an order, he was very aware that doing so would damage his relationship. J.T. was an unpopular necessity for the Family. Someone had to be capable of protecting their secrets from Government devices. The reality of his position was that because he was the Family secret keeper, nobody trusted him.

He dialed his Family contact. "Send me the order."

A few moments passed before J.T.'s screen displayed a picture and bio. J.T. hit print and watched as the e-mail erased itself from his computer. He grabbed the page from his printer. J.T. recognized the picture and bio. Nelson Peaks. An Indianapolis politician that had been making noise about ridding the city of unsavory influences. In reality, Mr. Peaks, was the worst of the lot. He viewed his new high profile celebrity as protection from the Family. Months ago he simply began refusing to pay the Family' their fair share of his receipts from his restaurant businesses.

Nelson Peaks was a pig. A smart pig, but a pig just the same. It would be a pleasure putting a bullet in his brain.

******

Derrick had left the office in such a rush that Jason was convinced something sinister was happening. Derrick was a programming genius and his background in psychology practically guaranteed that the parasite program would work as designed. It didn't take a genius to see the commercial value of Derrick's program. Jason felt a surge of power thinking about controlling unsuspecting subjects and ordering them to do his bidding. Was that what Derrick was doing? Or had Derrick sold the program to someone else?

Jason began to methodically copy every file of Derrick's new program. It was like an octopus. Tendrils reached from the main program to hypnotic message screens to videos to report notifications. Derrick was more skilled than he thought. Select groups had even been vetted through the FBI's data bases undetected.

He was convinced that the cell number he had found on Derrick's phone belonged to Derrick's potential buyer. If Derrick or his buyer somehow screwed up and led the authorities to their company, Jason was confident he had covered his tracks. He had been meticulously careful to only run their 'legal' businesses on his office computer. His other activities had always been done on a third office server using Derrick's security I.D. codes. Jason wasn't going back to jail.

As he watched the progress bar of the download, he couldn't help but daydream about the new riches that would be his from this gold mine. His imagination raced with prospective buyers; good guys, bad guys, governments, terrorist groups. The possibilities were endless. It would take very few programming changes to make this his own. All he had to do was remain careful.

******

Derrick let himself into Heather's apartment, mumbled a greeting to her private nurse and opened Heather's bedroom door. Her eyes were closed and her skin pallor was grey. For a moment he feared she had passed. The dialysis machine pumped away next to her bed. Each beep of the machine costing Derrick a hundred dollars.

He sat on the metal chair next to her bed. He wanted so badly to tell her he had the money for her surgery. He was close. So close. Heather opened her eyes and smiled.

"Dad. I didn't expect to see you today."

Derrick swallowed and tried to keep his voice from shaking. Heather sounded so weak. "I came to tell you that any day now we can schedule your surgery."

Heather smiled, "Thank you, Dad." She knew her father was in financial ruin from her medical bills. She suspected he was merely trying to keep her spirits up in hopes that a donor would surface. In any event, she was at peace with her probable fate. Her only fear was how her dad would survive.

******

J.T. parked across from the Blue Bistro and watched as a steady stream of people entered the restaurant. Business was good. Nelson Peaks should have stuck to his deal. Getting greedy gets you dead. J.T. twisted the silencer to his pistol and tucked it under his car seat. He dialed the number for Nelson and waited.

"Hello?"

"Nelson? This is J.T. I'm told your memory is giving you problems."

There was a long pause and then Nelson said, "Look, ain't nothin' wrong with my memory but I got some information you might want. When can you come to Indy?"

J.T. smiled as he watched Nelson exit the side door, his phone tight to his head.

"Look to your right. I'm in the black sedan."

Nelson nearly pissed himself. He whipped his head around and saw J.T. smiling at him from across the street. Could he run? Nelson's heart started pounding and his breathing labored just thinking about running. He couldn't run fifteen feet. He started to slowly walk towards J.T.'s car. His only hope was to cut a deal.

He sat in the passenger seat and mentally prepared his speech. J.T. reached under his seat for his pistol and pointed it at Nelson. "Give me your piece. Slowly."

Nelson held both palms up releasing the pungent odor of sweat from his arm pits. "I don't carry, J.T."

J.T. kept his pistol pointed at Nelson as he pulled the car from the curb and steered it around the corner.

"Bad decision number two."

They rode several blocks before Nelson blurted, "I know something you'll find very valuable."

J.T. pulled the car into the parking lot of the city's largest green space park. "Talk."

Nelson took his first normal breath. J.T. seemed willing to deal. "I want your word that if you like what I tell ya, you'll square things for me with the family."

J.T. lowered the pistol to his lap and smiled, "Let's hear what you have."

"Lucas. Lucas Costellano. He wants the family to give him Chicago and cut you out."

It was well known that J.T. and Lucas were not friends. J.T. shook his head, "You call that news? No wonder you're on the wrong list."

"Listen! Just listen...please. Lucas told some crazy professor to hook you into buying some computer program that hypnotizes people. Does this sound right so far?"

"Keep talking."

Nelson took a deep breath. "Lucas is setting you up. As soon as you buy this program he's giving the FBI a tip to come get you."

"How would he know if I bought it or not?"

"The crazy shrink! I guess he needs the money from selling this program to buy a kidney for his daughter. Lucas is the 'organ' king, remember? When this guy says it's a go, Lucas calls the feds. You'd never know it was him. Neither would the Family."

J.T. considered what Nelson had said. Derrick had stated that a trusted associate had given him J.T.'s name. J.T. had checked out Derrick's client base and recognized several wealthy associates he had done business with, too. He had never imagined Lucas. It made sense.

J.T. motioned for Nelson to leave the car. "You're right. I do think this is valuable."

Nelson hefted himself out of the car and turned to face J.T. His broad smile reflected his relief. "You won't regret this J.T."

J.T. put two bullets in Nelson's forehead and pulled the car away. "You're right."

# CHAPTER 11

Nick ran the VIN numbers on the seven abandoned cars tucked in behind the building. The registration data provided each of the owner's names and addresses. All of the cars had been vandalized and their plates removed. Nick found it curious that all of the owner addresses were from out of state. He called the department tech unit and asked for Joy. She was the department's temperamental but talented queen of data and always came through for him.

"Well hello, handsome. I haven't talked to you in over a month. What cha need?"

Nick could picture Joy at her horseshoe shaped desk wearing a headset and surrounded by monitors. A liter size bottle of water with a long straw would be on the desk to her right. Layers of sticky notes would be hanging from every flat surface.

"I've got nine cars I need the GPS history on."

"GPS history? Got a warrant? Of course not. We're charged for these little inquiries and I have to justify them to the Chief. Just tell me you'll cover my beautiful ass."

Nick chuckled. Joy was nobody's fool. If you gave her your word about something you'd better deliver. "I've got your beautiful ass covered. Can you send what you get to my laptop?"

Joy chuckled, "I suppose you're going to be standing there waiting, right?"

"Right." Nick gave her the VIN numbers and the owner's info.

"Give me a few minutes. We have a new interface that's pretty fast with this stuff now. You owe me some chocolate chip cookies."

Nick dialed missing persons and asked for Officer Drake Forrest. After a brief wait Drake answered. "Hey, Stryker. What's up?"

Nick answered, "I've got seven names I need you to run. I've got a hunch one of them might be missing."

Drake could be heard keying something into a computer. "I'm ready for the first name."

"Alvin Thomas."

"Missing. Reported March 27. From Indiana. You find him?"

"I've found his car. Try Nadine Anderson."

Drake cleared his throat. "Missing. April 17. From Michigan. You find her car, too?"

Nick's gut clenched. "Yeah." Nick gave Drake the remaining five names. All of them had been reported as missing persons. All from out of town. These weren't just stolen cars.

Drake gave a long slow whistle. "I don't know what you stumbled onto but my guys will need these cars."

Nick gave him the address and said, "CSU is here right now going over two other cars for me. I'll have them start on your cars as soon as they finish."

"Are your drivers missing, too?"

"One missing and three in body bags. Did you hear about this morning's find at the brewery?"

"Hell yes! These cars are connected to that mess?"

"Looks like it. I'll keep you posted."

Jen walked over to Nick. He was leaning against the car owned by Nadine Anderson. His phone signaled that Joy had just sent a message to his laptop.

"This whole row of cars belongs to open missing person cases. Joy just sent the GPS histories to my laptop. Maybe we can catch a break."

Jen and Nick walked back to their unit and opened the laptop. Nick read off the GPS map locations for each car's last two trips while Jen took notes. Each of the cars had eventually taken Exit 141 off 94. Each of the car's last trips went from Exit 141 to the parking lot they were standing in.

Jen looked up from her notes and said, "Looks like we're going to Exit 141."

******

J.T. Barrimore dialed Derrick's number.

Derrick picked up on the first ring. He had just left Heather's apartment. "Yes?"

J.T. said, "I've decided to buy your program Doc but the price is now one million, not three."

Derrick's voice pitch raised. "Why? We had a deal!"

J.T. answered, "Yes, but your program failed. I'm sure you didn't instruct Ms. Bronson to shoot a painting. Obviously, I'm going to have to invest in eliminating these bugs from the program."

Derrick cringed. How did J.T. find out about that?

J. T. continued, "I want your bank wiring instructions now and I will send $500,000.00 immediately. My associate will be calling you within the hour. His name is Matt. You are to send him everything he requests on this program in addition to instructing him on the required sequences. Once he has received all of the data he will run a test program and clear you for the remainder of your payment. Do you understand?"

Derrick had no choice but to accept J.T.'s terms. Heather's surgery would cost him $500,00.00 but he had wanted the rest to replenish his own savings. He tried one last effort to negotiate. "The Mandarin program alone is worth a million!"

J.T. laughed, "Why in the hell would I want that program? I am only interested in the 'parasite' program. You can keep your Mandarin host. I'll expect you to call back in thirty minutes with your banking information. Are we doing business, Dr. Sanford?"

"Yes."

Derrick thought about Peter Jarvis having already received the message to kill the mayor. He didn't need to do that now. Oh well, it would be nice to see his program succeed in at least one assignment. Peter getting killed or going to jail would just be one less stock broker in Chicago.

J.T. dialed his Indianapolis office, asked for Matt, and explained what he wanted Matt to get from Derrick.

J.T. smiled as he used his tablet computer to access the file of secured banking ID's he had accumulated on the 'family' members. There were many benefits to being the security vendor for the family. One very important one was full access. He went to bank accounts, found Lucas Costellano and wired one million dollars to Lucas' account from his own offshore account. As soon as Derrick called with his banking information he would send $500,000.00 to Derrick's account from Lucas. After Derrick completed the downloads to Matt he would send the remaining $500,000.00. When Lucas called the feds to leave a tip about Derrick's program he would be turning in himself.

******

Derrick screeched into his office parking garage space. He was so excited that he started to exit the car with his keys still in the ignition and the motor running. He had to hurry. His banking information was in his desk drawer and he only had ten minutes left.

The elevator seemed to crawl to the third floor. When it finally opened, Derrick could see that Jason was still working at his desk. Why was he still there, it was after five?

Derrick walked past Jason and closed his office door behind him as he shuffled through his center desk drawer looking for the envelope that held his banking information. He found it and dialed J.T.'s number. Within minutes he had received a confirmation email from his bank that the money had been received. Derrick took a deep breath and dialed Lucas.

Jason watched Derrick's closed door in his peripheral vision while the last of the 'parasite' program downloaded. He only needed about five more minutes to upload the videos. He had to stall Derrick. He walked over to Derrick's closed door and opened it in time to hear Derrick tell someone on the phone "Yes. I have the money. I need you to schedule Heather's surgery for as soon as possible."

Derrick frowned at Jason, and signaled with his hand for Jason to leave.

Jason made an apologetic gesture and backed out of the room mumbling, "Sorry, sorry."

So that's it. It was all to get money for Heather's surgery. It seemed that Derrick had already sold the program to someone. He was too late. Jason slumped at his desk and watched the last of the video transfers upload to his device. Then it hit him. Who says there can only be one buyer?

******

Nick and Jen took Exit 141 off from 94 and parked on the shoulder of the exit near the stop sign. Nick shut off the ignition and looked around. "Let's try to get a feel for this."

Jen stepped out of the car. "I don't see anything special, do you?"

The exit ended at a four way stop in an impoverished neighborhood. The logical choice a driver would make would be to follow the main street straight ahead. Each of the cross street directions seemed to quickly disintegrate into residential blight.

An elderly woman wearing a wide brimmed straw hat was tending a small flower garden on the corner. She shuffled toward them using her garden hoe as a cane and spouting high pitched cursing.

Jen guessed the woman to be about 5'3" if standing straight, and about 4'9" the way she was currently bent. The woman got right up to them and waved her free arm while she caught her breath. She leaned heavily on her hoe and her beady eyes bounced back and forth between Jen and Nick.

"I've had it with your people!" The old woman tried to straighten up as she pointed to her house and yard. "It's bad enough you make them guys screw with traffic for no damn good reason, but you gotta drive across my flower bed every time, too!" The absence of dentures made it appear that the top of her chin touched the end of her nose when she talked.

Nick put his hands up defensively as he showed her his badge. "Ma'am, we are police detectives. I can assure you we haven't driven over your flower beds. You said someone has been messing with traffic here?"

The old woman had raised her chin and squinted at Nick from under her hat brim. Suddenly her face widened with a big toothless smile. "Ooooh baby! Ain't you just the pretty boy now? I thought you were here checkin' up on those street workers. You look like a city boss in that suit."

Jen stifled a laugh.

Nick smiled, "Ma'am, this is important. Has someone been interfering with traffic here?"

"Pert near every other week. Sometimes more. They stand out here with their big signs wearing them bright orange city worker jackets and stop people from driving straight through. Half the dim wits drive over my flower bed tryin' to get around that big van of theirs."

Nick and Jen glanced at each other. Nick asked, "What color is the van they drive?"

"Grey. Maybe dirty white." The old woman shook her head. "Never seen 'em do a lick of work. They just stand here in the middle of the road and make people drive off to the side. Stupid. No wonder Chicago's never done with road work."

Jen asked, "When's the last time you saw them here?"

The old woman took off her hat exposing a few clumps of long, thin white hair. "This mornin'. Not here long today...just long enough to ruin my flowers."

Nick asked, "Which way do they go when they leave here?"

The old lady pointed to the right. "They go that a way. Ain't nothin' down there but ruins. They call it a detour on their sign." She made a tsk, tsk sound and added, "Most cars they make turn left which makes a big circle back to the main road a few blocks south. But every now and then they send a car off to the right and then they pack up their signs and leave. Dumbest thing you ever did see. That's what our tax money does."

Nick asked, "What makes you think they work for the city?"

"The orange jackets! Plus, they got all them big highway signs and that big van. Who else would it be?"

Nick and Jen thanked her for her information and drove down the side street to the right. Two blocks from the intersection and they were already noticing the rough condition of the pavement and the overgrown vacant lots.

Jen said, "This is a perfect place for a carjacking."

Nick stopped the car, put it in park and opened his door. "I think we just got lucky."

He walked a wide circle around the shoulder of the street and pointed to a muddy driveway of a vacant house. Jen had joined him and said, "Looks like a lot of tire and footprints here on the side."

Nick walked over to a clump of tall grass and reached down. "I thought I saw something...here." He stood, a mud encrusted cell phone in his hand. He touched a couple of buttons. "Sharon Perez."

Jen could read Nick's expression loud and clear. Now there was no doubt. Sharon Perez had been kidnapped by organ snatchers. Jen dialed Central Control and requested CSU staff to report to their location immediately. She crouched down and studied the footprints in the mud and pointed for Nick to see. "Drag marks that end at the street."

Nick nodded, "Three sets of shoeprints plus the drag marks."

Jen exhaled, "They're a team."

Nick started thinking out loud. "They kidnap her here and throw her in the back of the van. They drive her car over to dump it and then head for the brewery to lock her up until they're ready for her."

Jen interrupted, "Except today there were cops at the brewery."

Nick said, "They saw the cops, backed out of the alley and freaked out when Kevin started to follow them."

Jen and Nick said at the same time, "Sharon was in the back of that van."

******

Lucas Costellano's cell phone messaged he had an email. He glanced at his screen and saw that Dr. Sanford's payment of $500,000.00 had been deposited to his account. After paying Tony $300,000.00 and the family $100,000.00 it still left him $100.000.00 for his trouble. Not a bad afternoon's work.

Lucas dialed Tony. "I have the payment now for the kidney, pancreas transplant patient, Heather Sanford. Do we have a tissue match with your new donor?"

Tony had been waiting for Lucas to call. All of the medical data was ready. The sooner Tony could get rid of Sharon's remains, the better. "We have a very good match. Am I free to schedule this?"

Lucas detected a nervousness in Tony's voice. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

Tony froze. If he confessed John's screw ups to Lucas, there would be consequences. If Lucas already knew and Tony didn't confess, he was dead.

Tony answered, "Like what?"

Lucas waited a moment before answering. "You tell me."

Tony's throat began to tighten. It was entirely possible Lucas had heard about the brewery body bags being found by the cops, or about John shooting at some car. Tony took a deep breath. He had the situation under control. The cops would never trace John's mistakes back to the hospital.

Tony chuckled, "Unless you want to hear the boring details of being a hospital administrator, I don't have anything to tell you." He hoped his voice sounded confident and relaxed.

Tony held his breath. Lucas was taking far too long to respond. Shit! He knew. He knew everything and was deciding what to do.

Tony nearly blurted out a full confession when Lucas said, "Good. We're all counting on you, Tony."

Lucas hung up and Tony nearly puked.

He sat for a moment and collected his thoughts. He dialed his staff surgeon, Dr. Imus, and scheduled the surgery staff for Heather's surgery for three p.m. the next day. That meant the donor surgery would begin around noon. Perfect.

******

John was a nervous wreck driving the van back through the streets of Chicago to dump it. Juan and Vince were following him in Vince's car. As soon as John turned the corner to head for the abandoned Conrail warehouse he saw a sea of cop cars four blocks ahead.

He grabbed his phone and dialed Vince. "We've got cops crawlin' all over the parking lot! Follow me to Logan's Muffler on the Westside."

John cursed as he sped west at the first corner. He leaned down and grabbed the AK47 from the floorboard and tossed it on the passenger seat. He didn't know how this was going to end but his gut told him their entire operation was in trouble. Not only did the cops know about the brewery and the bodies...now they had the car. All of the cars.

He glanced in his rear view mirror and saw Vince's car behind him. John's mind raced. If he got stopped in the van what could he say? Tony was going to report the van stolen. Maybe he should just cop to stealing the van. It was better than what he was really guilty of. That guy he shot at for following him from the brewery bothered him. Why had he started to chase the van? What if he was a cop? Was he dead or alive? Could someone else have seen him shoot up that car? Had the cops connected the van to the brewery somehow?

John's mind felt as if it was going to explode with questions. He needed Tony's advice. Tony needed to know the cops had the brewery family car. John looked at his phone and cursed. Tony was going to blame him for everything.

John's hand shook as he punched in Tony's number. He was sick of being yelled at all of the time.

Tony answered, "I just reported the van stolen. You've dumped it, right?"

John exhaled as he carefully pulled onto another main street to head across town. "Not exactly. There are cops all over our dump spot. That brewery family rental car is there and that chick's car from this morning. Actually, a handful of our cars are in that lot. I'm heading across town to Logan's. He can have the van crushed."

Tony sat down in his office chair and fought the urge to scream. In all of Chicago there was only one place John could think of to dump cars? It was so stupid. Tony had never even considered warning John not to put all of the cars in the same place.

It wouldn't do any good to get John too excited, he would just make more mistakes.

Tony rubbed his forehead and said, "Just don't get stopped by the cops." Then he had a thought. "Look, if you do get stopped just tell them it's been a mistake. You took the van home and forgot to get permission. My sister would kill me if I got you arrested for auto theft."

# CHAPTER 12

Monday 6 p.m., 107th precinct

Wayne dialed Nick. "Hey, we've got all kinds of new trouble here from those three hypnotized people. Any way you can slide back over here?"

Nick glanced at Jen and mouthed 'Wayne'. "What kind of trouble?"

Wayne answered, "I'll give you the short version. All three of them think they have been hypnotized by watching a Chinese language app on their phones. That artist shot her painting because the 'program' told her to shoot the first person that made her mad. Peter just got detailed instructions on how to kill the Mayor."

"Emanuel?"

"The one and only. The Chief is all bunched up with the FBI because the mayor has been mentioned. Agent Phillips is here and wants to talk to you."

Nick turned their car to head back to the precinct. "Have you found out who owns the brewery yet? Or anything on those V.I.N. numbers?"

"Nothing yet. Sam's been on it since this morning."

Nick hung up and told Jen what was happening at the precinct.

Jen exhaled loudly, "Great. This was going to be an all-nighter already. Hey, can you pull into that burger joint and go through the drive-up window? I'm starving."

"Me too."

Nick got their order, took a big bite of his hamburger and eased the car back into traffic. Two vehicles in front of him was a grey van. A small red car closely followed behind. Nick took another bite and let another car get in front of him.

"Check out what's in front of us."

Jen grabbed a set of binoculars from the glove box. "Any way you can get in the left lane for a minute?"

Nick eased their car into the left lane.

Jen said, "Got it!" She tossed the binoculars to her side and wrote down the plate number. "First three letters are a match!' She entered the full plate number to their unit computer.

She looked at Nick, "Sunrise Specialty Hospital just reported it stolen."

"Those kids told Kevin they had seen that van at the brewery for several months. I don't think the hospital realizes the van has been connected to the brewery or they wouldn't have reported it stolen. They're probably only worried that someone might have identified the van at Kevin's shooting."

Jen said, "That's assuming the hospital is involved. If their van was stolen, like they reported, then we don't know who we're following."

Nick shifted lanes for a better look at the occupants of the car and then shifted back to his original lane. "We have a hospital van that has been spotted at the brewery long before today and a dead family that the coroner says was cut by a surgeon. Logically, Sunrise Hospital is involved."

Jen dialed Wayne. "Our van was just reported stolen by Sunrise Specialty Hospital. Nick and I are following it now. Find out what you can about this hospital and call me back."

Nick let three more cars get in front of them. The van was easy to keep in sight even in the thick traffic. After ten blocks the shopping centers were replaced with light industrial, commercial buildings, and low rent apartment complexes. The traffic thinned out and the red Camry was still following the van.

Jen glanced around. "It's going to get tricky if they keep heading this direction. We're going to lose our cover traffic. They're going to make us."

"I know. The two guys in the red Camry might be the van driver's ride back from the dump site. I'd like to just follow these guys." Nick let another car pass him. "All we have right now is a stolen vehicle charge. We need to know where they took Sharon. We know it wasn't the brewery."

The street was now down to two lanes and all but three cars had turned off to side roads. John had been watching Nick's black sedan through his rear view mirror. There were two people in the car. A man and a woman. Probably nothing. Still, he didn't like it. They had been behind him too long.

A small incline ahead of John marked the first of several rail lines that cut through the district. He reached the rail crossing just as the lights began to flash and the crossing bar lowered. His gut told him to make a move. He crashed through the crossing bar, floored the accelerator and made it to the other side with mere seconds to spare.

Nick yelled, "Stay with the Camry!" as he slammed the car into park and bolted out the door.

Jen watched as Nick sprinted into the tree line along the shoulder of the road, past the cars waiting at the crossing. Mere seconds after Nick disappeared into the trees she caught a brief glimpse of him as he ran alongside the train and jumped onto the platform of a passing freight car. She slid across to the driver's seat, cursing, and focused her binoculars on the Camry occupants. They were in animated conversation and unaware they were being watched.

Nick worked his way to the far side of the rail car's platform, jumped and rolled into the tall grasses beyond the rails and sprinted back toward the crossing. A man on a Harley waited for the train to pass. Nick ran up to him, showed him his badge and handed him his card.

"I need your bike!"

The man was stunned but looked at Nick's badge and then the card. "You're Stryker? Take it!"

He yelled, "Good luck!" as Nick turned the bike around and raced down the street. The man walked over to the grassy shoulder and dialed his boss. "Hey, I need a ride to work. You'll never believe what just happened!"

******

Heather fought the urge to succumb to self-pity. She was thirty-five years old and had lived a privileged life by most standards. As soon as her dialysis machine completed her treatment her phone rang. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Her dad was telling her that her surgery was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. He was on his way back to take her to the hospital to check in.

Heather and her care nurse began to pack an overnight bag. Her care nurse kept telling her how lucky she was that a match had been found for her kidney and pancreas. Heather's excitement and joy at the news was tempered by the knowledge that her good fortune meant that someone had died. Her doctors had explained to her that people need their pancreas to live.

Heather couldn't believe that her father had managed to find the money for her surgery. Sunrise Specialty Hospital was expensive, but they were the best.

She wiped tears from her cheeks with the back of her hands, turned to her care nurse and smiled. "Dad must have found a way."

Her care nurse passed her a tissue. "It's a miracle."

******

Jen watched as the last train car passed. The shattered crossing arm littered the approach to the tracks and the crossing arm for the other side slowly rose. She was three cars behind the red Camry. There was no sign of Nick anywhere. A man holding a motorcycle helmet stood on the shoulder of the road talking into a cell phone.

Wayne called. "Sunrise Specialty Hospital is rated one of the world's best private hospitals. Won every medical award out there. What else do you want to know?"

Jen answered, "Do you mind sending us the address and contact number? Also, see if you can get the head administrator's name."

"Are you guys going to be a while yet? Phillips from the FBI is still waiting to talk to Nick."

Jen laughed, "Last I saw Nick he was jumping onto a moving train but I think he took a guy's motorcycle and is still on the van's trail." She saw the Camry turn off to the left up ahead. "Gotta go."

Wayne looked at Agent Phillips who had been listening to Wayne's side of the conversation with interest.

Wayne sat in his chair and said, "You're stuck with me. Stryker is either on a train or a motorcycle. Either way, he isn't headed here."

******

John felt the adrenaline race through his veins. Running that train barricade could have turned out bad. Maybe Tony was right; maybe he did have impulse control issues. He looked in his rear view mirror and exhaled. It looked safe now.

He dialed Vince's cell. "Look behind you. Is there a black sedan with a man and a woman in it?"

Vince repeated John's question to Juan who turned abruptly in his seat and studied the cars behind them.

"No. Only got one black car and there's just a woman driver."

Vince asked John, "You hear that?"

"Yeah. I thought we were being followed." John wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "Just meet me at Logan's Muffler."

Vince and Juan rode in silence for a few blocks when Vince said, "I'm lookin' to quit this gig. John's goin' to do somethin' squirrely and get us all busted."

Juan nodded his head in agreement. "Been thinkin' that myself."

"Can't just keep waitin' for the hammer to fall. Look at right now...today. John left them body bags at the brewery, the cops found 'em...then he shoots up that car...then the cops find our car dump...now he busts through a train barricade because he thinks we're being followed. Ain't stable, man. I don't even want to pick him up!"

Juan was looking at his phone. "I have a number for Lucas. What if I call him and tell him we want out? If we tell him why, he'll understand. Shit, if John gets caught, that could screw Lucas, too."

Vince didn't want to make any rash decisions but his gut was telling him it was time to cut his ties to John. "Do it. Call Lucas now. I'll take the long way to Logan's."

Vince listened as Juan told Lucas about the events of the day. When Juan had finished talking he spent a long while listening. Vince was starting to think that maybe they had made a mistake.

Juan finally hung up and looked at Vince. "We did the right thing. Lucas says to tell you he owes us both a favor for the warning. He's got a warehouse job we can start tomorrow over on Denver Street. Not as much pay, but no body bags for a while."

Vince asked, "So we don't have to meet John?"

Juan pursed his lips in a frown and said, "The way Lucas sounded makes me think ain't nobody meetin' with John ever again. Lucas is sending some of his boys to Logan's to 'take care' of him."

******

Lucas Costellano did not like being lied to; Tony had lied to him. Not only wasn't everything fine, but Tony's people had made a series of mistakes that had the cops looking at them. It had to stop at John.

Lucas called Logan's Muffler. "Logan? Lucas. You're going to take your guys and leave the shop right now. Leave everything open just get out of there. I'll call you when you can come back."

Jimmy Logan felt the hairs on his arm stand up straight. If Lucas Costellano told you to leave, you should already be half gone. He yelled at his mechanics to get the hell out and not come back until he called.

Old Stubby's 250 lb. body creaked on the mechanic's dolly as he rolled himself out from under a caddy. "What'd you say?"

Jimmy yelled, "Lucas called and said for us to disappear! Now!"

The whites of Stubby's eyes glowed in contrast to his oil stained skin. "Shit!" He pulled himself up, tossed his wrench on the bench with a clang and grabbed his keys. His two other co-workers were already backing their cars away from the lot fence and heading for the gate.

Jimmy Logan grabbed the large bills from his cash drawer and sprinted to his truck. Any theft or damage from whatever was going to happen would be made right by Lucas. It always was.

******

Jen followed the red Camry in circles for three blocks. What the hell were they doing? Had they made her? Suddenly the Camry turned to the right, drove a few blocks and parked at what her husband would call a 'titty bar'. Really? Jen tapped Nick's number on her cell and listened to it ring six times and then go to voice mail. If he was driving that motorcycle he wouldn't hear the phone.

Now what?

Jen left a message for Nick to call her. She watched the Camry from her spot at the grocery across the street. The information from the plates gave her Vince's name and an address. Her fingers tapped on the steering wheel. They were running out of time. Sharon was running out of time.

# CHAPTER 13

Nick stayed a few blocks behind the van. There was no sign of the red Camry in his rear-view mirror. Suddenly the van turned to the left. When Nick reached that block his choices were: a small strip mall, a three story apartment building and a junk yard boasting a muffler repair shop. Logan's Muffler was surrounded by a ten-foot chain link fence topped with barbed wire. It took up the remainder of that city block and was deep enough to go all the way to the street running parallel behind it. Thick weeds and vines clung to the fencing and obstructed any view from the street.

Nick turned at the corner and slowed the Harley down to a crawl as he searched for a sightline through the fence. At the end of the street there was three-foot spot where someone had attempted to kill the brush with spray. A large cement block building grew out of the back of the small muffler shop. Three large overhead doors were open and exposed mechanic bays. Bright lights illuminated the undercarriage of a truck lifted up on a hoist.

The inside of the lot was lined with dilapidated cars and trucks. A monster of a machine that Nick recognized as a crusher, sat silent in the far corner. Stacks of crushed metal sat stacked in the back of a flatbed trailer guarded by an ancient lift truck. Another large gate sat at the far end of the gravel lot. The grey van was parked at the first bay. The driver's door was open. Nick watched for a moment. A tall figure paced inside of the dark garage bay.

Nick drove into the lot and parked the Harley squarely behind the grey van. Nick could hear John yelling for Logan in the distance. He glanced into the van's interior. Glass shards peppered the driver's floorboard and the butt of a rifle peeked from under a blue scrub shirt on the passenger seat. Nick pulled the AK47 to the driver's seat and closed the van door.

He followed the sound of John's voice and met him in a dark hall near the shop's office.

Nick asked, "Logan's not here?"

John was noticeably startled. Nick watched as John's eyes search him. John glanced toward his van and saw the Harley parked behind it. "You look like a cop. Bike cops wear suits now?"

Nick smiled, "Sometimes. Where is everybody?"

John nervously glanced around. He wanted to run. He sure as hell didn't want to talk to a cop. "Beats me. You're gonna have to move that bike, I'm leaving."

Nick pulled a pair of cuffs from behind his back and held them up. "I don't think so." Nick grasped John's arm.

John twisted and turned to lunge for the van. Nick kicked the back of John's knee and chopped the side of John's neck as he started to fall. Nick planted his knee in the small of John's back as he yanked his hands one at a time to the cuffs.

John spit the cement dust from his mouth and yelled, "What the hell's your problem?"

Nick grabbed John's shoulder and said, "Roll over and get up." Nick was frisking John for weapons as John pulled his knees under him to stand.

Nick tilted his head toward the van. "Lean against the hood and explain to me why you're driving a stolen van."

John suddenly relaxed and smiled. "Oh that! That's a misunderstanding. I just talked to my boss and he said he was going to call the cops and let 'em know. He didn't realize I'd taken the van for the weekend is all. Go ahead and call him." John was still smiling.

Nick smiled back. "What's his name and number?" Nick had pulled a small notebook from his pocket.

"Tony Scalla. He's the administrator at Sunrise Security Hospital. He's also my brother-in-law." Tony stopped. He probably shouldn't have said that. "Anyway, he'll explain. Can you take these cuffs off?"

Nick shook his head. "Not yet. What's the number?" Nick dialed Tony and waited three rings for an answer. "Mr. Scalla? This is Detective Nick Stryker. I found the van you reported stolen but the driver insists that there's been a mistake. The driver is John Miller." Nick was studying John's driver's license as he talked.

Tony fought the urge to curse. Now the cops were calling him. His only recourse was to talk Stryker out of arresting John. "Detective Stryker, I am so sorry. I was just getting ready to call the police and admit my mistake. John is my employee. I didn't realize he had 'borrowed' the hospital's van for the weekend."

Nick asked, "So your statement now is that he is a trusted employee of the hospital and this has been a mistake?"

Tony smiled. This was easier than he thought it would be. "Yes, yes...I'm very sorry. John's a good man. I take full responsibility for this, detective."

"In that case I'm going to ask you to remain at your office until I can get there to interview you. John has an AK47 in the van along with evidence he was involved in an armed assault this morning."

Tony sputtered, "What? That son of a bitch has issues! I don't know anything about any assault!"

Nick said, "I'll call you when I'm available. I expect you to wait at the hospital. You might want your lawyer there." Nick wanted to spook Tony into running. If Tony took off, Nick might have some grounds for a search warrant. Tony would cast himself as a co-conspirator.

Nick hung up and glanced at John's shocked expression. "You went from trusted employee to mental case in one sentence. Your brother-in-law just threw you under the bus."

Through the van's windshield Nick could see a bright orange detour sign leaning against the side wall of the van. Nick leaned in close to John's face. He hoped John could see every ounce of hate he was feeling. "Here's the big question, where is she, John? Where did you take her this morning?"

The blood drained from John's face. He had never seen eyes like Nick's before. This cop was crazy.

John swallowed. "I don't know what you're talking about." John mentally made a quick inventory of what was in the van. The gun, construction signs, his IPad with the GPS code interceptor, and probably any number of human hairs in the back from his 'passengers'. Shit. He was going down for a lot more than a stolen vehicle.

Nick took a deep breath and tapped his phone for Control Central. "This is Stryker. Send a patrol cage unit to Logan's Muffler, four hundred block of Western Avenue. I need a prisoner pick up."

Nick knew a hundred ways to make John talk before the patrol unit arrived. John was watching his every move, flinching each time Nick changed positions. He expected Nick to hurt him. Nick took a deep breath. He had to find Sharon and he had to do it by the book. There were more people in this than John.

Nick slipped his and John's phones into his jacket pockets as two cars slid into view from around the corner of the building. They stopped twenty feet from the service bay doors. The dust from the gravel settled as the passenger doors of each car flew open. The passengers were armed with automatic rifles and began to slowly walk toward the garage bays flanking the van. Nick knew that their eyes were scanning the dark interior of the garage for their target. It explained why no one that worked at the garage was there. It was a hit.

Nick hissed at John, "Any rounds left in that drum?"

John's eyes were opened wide watching the men walk toward them. He didn't know if they were there to save him or kill him. John decided they were there to kill him. He answered Nick, "40 round drum, probably half gone."

Nick pushed John to the floor. He drew his pistol and shot the shooter on the right in the knee. The shooter dropped to the ground and rolled just long enough for Nick to open the van door and pull out John's rifle.

The shooter on the left began spraying the side of the van with bullets. Nick saw the shooter on the right begin to rise up on one knee, his rifle pointed at Nick. Nick squeezed off a short spurt of bullets to the man's head. The driver's door opened and the driver took cover behind the car door and started shooting. Nick could tell that the shooter on the left was beginning to circle more to the left. It would only be moments before he and John were exposed.

Nick dropped to the floor and shot both legs of the shooter on the left from under the van's undercarriage. He turned and landed a shot to the driver on the right through the car window. Now he only had the driver and shooter from the left. The shooter was screaming and rolling on the concrete floor. Nick watched as the driver of the car on the left aimed and shot his own shooter in the back of the head.

The driver jumped back in his car and floored it in reverse. He slammed the brakes, put the car in drive and nearly ran into the arriving patrol unit head on. Nick signaled the patrol officer to stay in his car. He turned his attention back to the shooter's car and shot the two tires facing him and the windshield. The driver put his hands in the air.

******

Jen tapped Nick's cell number again on her phone. Nick answered on the second ring.

Jen asked, "Are you still with the van?"

Nick brought her up to speed on what had happened at Logan's Muffler. "I've got a couple of patrol units bringing the grey van driver and the shooter's driver to the precinct. What kind of luck did you have with the Camry?"

Jen explained she was watching the Camry from across the street. The car was legal. The driver, Vince Thompson, had a warrant for failure to appear on a traffic violation.

Nick said, "Call patrol and have them make an arrest on the warrant and find some reason to bring the other guy too. Have them taken to the precinct. Can you come get me?"

Jen chuckled. "I thought you had a motorcycle?"

Nick glanced at the gasoline pouring from the bullet sprayed fuel tank. "Not anymore. We need to get to Sunrise Hospital."

"Got it."

Nick watched as John and the shooter were placed in caged patrol units and driven away. The coroners wagon showed up for the three other bodies. CSU units were on their way. Nick wanted to check out the contents of the van. He glanced to the back of the van and saw the 'detour' sign and a large 'road closed' sign. Sand bags were stacked against the wall of the van and chains were secured on both side walls. He had no doubts that this was a kidnap wagon. He pictured little Alison chained.

Under the passenger seat was an IPad. Nick powered it up. It wasn't even password protected. One icon stood out. A smiley face with GPS stamped on it. Nick tapped the icon and saw a crude screen that simply asked for date, time and exit number.

Nick called Joy in tech. "I have a program from an IPAD I need to send to you. Can you check it out and let me know what it does? I also need another GPS history."

Joy heard the tension in Nick's voice. He was into something pretty bad.

Joy walked Nick through the steps to send the program to her. She listened as Nick read off the V.I.N. numbers for the van. "I'll call you as soon as I figure out what this little program does and I'll send the GPS history to your laptop."

Joy watched as the bar on her monitor showed progression of the download to 100%.

She clicked on the smiley face icon and whispered, "What kind of bad boy are you?"

******

Tony felt sick. The cops had John. Tony leaned back in his office chair and closed his eyes. His heart was racing. John would sing like the Bee Gees to save his own ass. It sounded like the cops had him cold on shooting up that car this morning. John had kidnapped that girl this morning, too. Could the construction signs still be in the van? How could John explain that? Hell, how could _he_ explain it? That detective was on his way over. He said to call a lawyer. Shit.

Tony looked at his cell phone. He didn't have a choice. He had to call Lucas. He put the phone down on his desk and pulled open his bottom drawer. He grabbed a half empty vodka bottle, raised his chin, closed his eyes and felt the burning liquid race down his throat. When he opened his eyes Lucas was standing in front of him.

******

Nick called the D.A.'s office and requested they contact Judge White for a search warrant while Jen drove them to Sunrise. Nick knew he had slim evidence against the hospital but was hoping the Judge would at least allow a search for Sharon. The D.A. called back a few minutes later and patched Nick's call through directly to Judge White. This was not the normal procedure. Nick listened to Judge White scold him for trying to link the prestigious Sunrise Hospital to a crazed employee.

Judge White asked, "What proof do you have that this John Martin isn't acting on his own? Would the hospital have reported the van stolen if they had any inkling it had been used for a kidnapping?"

Nick sighed. That was the one question he couldn't answer. "Your Honor, I believe that the hospital administrator, Tony Scalla, thinks the police only knew about John shooting up a car. There's little chance that Scalla knows we have discovered the kidnappings, the bodies at the brewery and the vacated cars."

Judge White's voice was stern. "Detective Stryker, your reputation for pushing the envelope doesn't do you justice. You don't push the envelope; you light the corner with a match! My wife had a heart transplant at Sunrise and would be dead today if those people hadn't saved her. They are world renown for God's sake! I'm not giving you a warrant based on unfounded suspicions. I will go one step more and warn you to behave in your dealings with Sunrise Hospital. God knows Chicago needs more outfits like them!"

Jen watched Nick slip his phone into his pocket and turn his head to look out the window. She waited a minute and then asked, "Well?"

"Judge White thinks the sun not only rises at Sunrise but sets there too. They saved his wife's life with a heart transplant."

Jen huffed her displeasure. "Yeah, but whose heart did they use? So no warrant?"

"No warrant and I've been warned to play nice."

"Uh oh."

Nick removed his suit jacket and inspected the damage from the day. Two torn armpits and one missing elbow. He tossed the jacket to the backseat and rolled up his shirt sleeves to conceal the rips at the elbows. "The Judge is right about one thing. We don't have enough. We have to prove John was following Tony Scalla's orders."

# CHAPTER 14

Detective Wayne Dunfee watched Agent Phillips pace on the other side of the homicide room with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Whatever he was being told wasn't making him happy. Phillips walked over to Wayne's desk after returning his phone to his breast pocket.

"I seem to be the only bear in the woods."

Wayne frowned. "What's that mean? Oh, I get it! They don't care if the bear shits in the woods or not, right? As long as they don't have to go in the woods."

Phillips leaned his chair back. "You got it. I think I'm the only one that thinks there's something to this hypnotizing program. It would help to have a little proof. The Mandarin program isn't even on any of their devices."

Wayne nodded agreement. "If it makes you feel any better I believe them, plus they all passed polys. I saw those people when they came in this morning. They really thought they had murdered Nick. This thing could be bad news in the wrong hands."

Wayne answered his phone all the while looking at Phillips. When he hung up he said, "You're either going to have to send those three home or move your circus to your own tent. Stryker's been busy. Patrol is bringing four people here as we speak."

******

Darla, Dolly, Cynthia and Peter all sat around a conference table at the precinct waiting for Agent Phillips to come back in and talk to them again.

Darla looked at her nails and sighed. "I missed my nail appointment."

Dolly asked Peter, "Do you think that FBI guy believes us?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't know. What proof do we have? The app doesn't even show on our phones anymore."

Cynthia pushed her chair from the table and began to pace. "When you think about it, all the FBI has is Darla's plot to kill the mayor."

Darla stiffened up and pointed her finger at Cynthia. "Darla's plot? Really? I just took notes! You three are the ones going around confessin' to murder and shootin' at shit." She winked at Dolly. "I bet that FBI man has got agents crawlin' all over that Dr. Sanford's office as we speak. Gettin' all kinds of evidence right now."

Just then the door opened and Agent Phillips came into the room.

Agent Phillips said, "You can all go home now. Keep me informed of any new developments."

Peter stood and asked, "That's it then, isn't it?"

"For now. We've begun an investigation and increased the security for the mayor just in case you weren't the only one that got that video."

Darla thought Agent Phillips looked frustrated. "Can you get a subpoena for this computer program and have it tested?"

Phillips considered evading her question but answered, "We've tried. We're a little light on evidence. All we have are three confessions to a murder that didn't happen, Cynthia shooting her own property as part of an art demonstration and your notes about killing the mayor that no one else can substantiate. The only laws that have been broken, that we can prove, are Cynthia discharging a weapon in a public building and the three of you filing false criminal reports."

Darla said, "Well, that ain't good. So we're the only criminals?"

Phillips shrugged and gestured for them to leave.

Outside of the precinct in Dolly's car Darla broke the silence. "I don't know about you guys, but if someone was puttin' shit in my head that could get me in trouble, I'd make damn sure the cops got what they needed to put 'em away."

Peter said, "I agree. The police have to follow rules. We don't."

******

J.T. Barrimore arrived back in Chicago from Indianapolis at O'Hare airport and checked his phone for missed messages. His programmer, Matt, left him the message that he had received all of the parasite program from Derrick and understood how it worked. He had added, "Good find. This will come in handy."

J.T. found his car in the airport lot and made the final transfer of $500,000.00 to Derrick's account from Lucas' account. Now, if the FBI found out about the program, they would trace it all back to Lucas. There was only one person that could tie the program to him. Dr. Derrick Sanford would have to be eliminated.

J.T. phoned Matt. "I want to know how many 'subjects' are ready for video instructions."

J.T. pulled his car into traffic and glanced at his reflection in the rear view mirror. Today seemed like a good day to retire from doing hits himself. Of course there would be those few he wanted to do...the real challenges. It was only fitting that Derrick be murdered by one of his own subjects.

******

Kevin was waiting at Peter's door when Dolly, Darla, Cynthia and Peter arrived at the curb. Peter noticed the bandages on Kevin's face and neck and bolted out of the car and up the steps. "What happened to you?"

"It's a long story. I need your help with something." Kevin glanced at Dolly, Darla and Cynthia walking toward them. "It's important."

Peter unlocked his door and ushered all of them in. He introduced Kevin as his brother and watched as the gals exchanged nervous glances.

Darla asked, "None of my business but you look like you've been run over by a monster thorn bush."

Kevin answered, "A guy shot out the windshield of my car with an AK47."

Peter dropped onto the couch. "What?"

Kevin lowered himself into a chair. "I think...the cops think...this guy kidnapped my girlfriend this morning." Kevin decided to correct his statement. "Well, she's not really my girlfriend, yet."

Cynthia sat on the couch next to Peter. Dolly and Darla pulled chairs from the kitchen into the living room.

Darla said, "Start at the beginning."

******

Two patrol officers arrived at the homicide room with their four prisoners. Wayne locked each of them in holding cells and walked back to his desk.

Detective Sam Flores said, "I might have a lead on that brewery owner, finally. I'm waiting on a call back from the city assessor's office."

Wayne returned to his computer search for more information on Sunrise Specialty Hospital. He glanced over at Sam. "Have you got any idea what these four guys in holding are here for?"

Sam shook his head. "Jen just said patrol was bringing them and to lock 'em up."

Wayne looked up and saw a man in a suit standing in the doorway. "Can I help you?"

"I'm the attorney for John Miller, Vince Thompson and Juan Sanchez. I'd like to see my clients please."

Wayne glanced at Sam who shrugged.

Wayne said, "Show me some identification."

The man handed Wayne a business card. Nick wasn't going to be happy a lawyer was already here. He'd probably listen to the charges and tell them not to talk.

"It sure didn't take you long to get here! You'll have to talk to them through the bars. The arresting officer isn't here yet."

The man frowned, "You can't keep me from my clients."

"I'm not! Are you deaf? You can talk to them through the bars or sit here and wait. You're choice."

The man shifted his briefcase to his other hand and said, "Take me to them."

Wayne walked the attorney to the holding cell hall door and unlocked it. "Let me know when you've finished." Wayne walked back to his desk.

Sam was drawing a diagram on the whiteboard. "Thought Nick would like to see the chain of ownership on this brewery. We've got some strange bedfellows doing real estate transactions here."

Just then three shots rang out from the holding area. Wayne and Sam drew their weapons and charged toward the hall. The attorney was sprinting for the exit door of the homicide wing.

Wayne yelled, "Stop! I'll shoot!"

The man turned to face Wayne and aimed his pistol. Wayne and Sam both fired. The lawyer was dead. Officers ran to the scene from all directions. Wayne ran into the holding area. John, Juan and Vince were all dead. Single shots to the head.

Wayne glanced at the fourth prisoner who sat quietly on his bench. "What's so special about you?"

The man shrugged and then began laughing. He was the driver of one of the hit cars. Lucas wouldn't have him shot. He'd do his time for getting caught and be rewarded when he got out. Strictly business.

Wayne walked out of the hall area, looked at Sam and shook his head. "He killed three of them."

Sam began to frisk the body of the lawyer. There was no identification of any kind on him. Sam caught sight of the Chief coming from down the hall at a brisk pace. Sam tilted his head and said, "Chief's on his way."

Wayne moaned. How did this guy get a gun past security downstairs? The Chief stopped abruptly in the doorway, looked at Wayne and said, "What in the hell just happened?"

Wayne answered, "Ask Sam. I have to call Stryker and find out who these guys are."

Jen had just pulled their car up to the front of Sunrise Hospital when Wayne called Nick. Jen could tell from Nick's set jaw that the news was bad. Nick hung up and took a deep breath. "We just lost our best lead for finding Sharon. The van driver and the Camry guys were just shot and killed in holding."

Jen couldn't believe what she had heard. "How?"

"Some guy waltzed in claiming to be their attorney. Wayne let him back into the holding area. Sam and Wayne shot the lawyer, if he even is a lawyer. He's dead now too."

Jen knew there was going to be all kinds of hell to pay. She also knew they couldn't lose focus on finding Sharon.

Nick called Joy in tech. "Any chance that GPS history is ready?"

Joy answered, "Just sent it to your laptop not two minutes ago. Still working on this little program you sent me. What I can tell you is that it is an interface designed to interrupt the GPS satellite band and substitute specific code changes for specific times."

Nick said, "Give me an example."

Joy said, "Let's say I'm at O'Hare. If I enter an address that takes me to 94 and exit 114 for downtown, the interceptor will change the 114 to Exit 141. From what I can tell the interruption to GPS is usually set to only be effective for 20 to 30 minutes. I hope this helps."

"It does. See if you can get me a history of how often and when this has been used. Thanks, Joy, you've helped a lot."

Nick looked at Jen. "These guys have a program that alters GPS instructions. That's how all of these cars ended up going to Exit 141. All they had to do when a car came down that exit was to mimic construction detours, select which drivers met their criteria, and direct them to turn toward the carjacking spot."

Jen thought about the horror of it. Preying on people unfamiliar with Chicago and having GPS direct them to their own kidnapping and murder. "This is sick."

Nick glanced up through their windshield to the three story stone facade of Sunrise Specialty Hospital. He turned to Jen. "Someone knew that John was dropping off the van at Logan's Muffler and ordered a hit on him. He's been making too many mistakes and now the police are involved. Someone predicted his arrest and was afraid he would talk. That explains the hit at Logan's. Not many people knew that the driver of the shooter car, John and the two Camry guys had been arrested and taken to the 107th. There's only one way they knew that these guys were at our precinct."

Jen said, "Whoever ordered the hit must have had someone else near Logan's that followed the patrol cars to the precinct."

"Exactly. Whoever ordered the hit at Logan's doubled down and ordered the hit to be done at the precinct. This hit order left nothing to chance; it wasn't done until John was dead. John was not going to talk to the cops."

"That took balls."

Nick nodded. "Balls and power. Imagine having the ability to get a volunteer for a suicide mission on such short notice. What size contact list would that take?" Nick was certain now that John's employer was the organized crime Family. "Most likely the volunteer for this shooting was guaranteed his family would receive big money and protection for life. This smells like the mob."

"Do you think Tony Scalla is the head of this?"

Nick didn't think that Tony sounded like that level of power. "No, but I think he's an important player." Nick made a mental note to contact Agent Phillips of the FBI's Chicago task force on organized crime. "Phillips might know where Scalla fits in this."

Nick opened his laptop and saw the email from Joy with the GPS history of the van. "Let's see where this van went today. I'll read off every stop after exit 141."

Jen sat ready to take notes. Nick was silent as he read. Finally, he turned to her. "They went from Exit 141 to the brewery street, then to the street where Kevin was shot and then straight here to the hospital. From here, they drove to the street where we found the dumped cars then to Logan's."

Jen clicked her pen shut and put her notebook back in her pocket. "Then Sharon has to be here."

Nick called Joy back. "Hey Joy, thanks for the info. Can you run GPS history on the van for each day our missing person cars took Exit 141?"

Joy chuckled, "Lord save my soul but I expected you to ask for that. I've already started. I'll send you everything as soon as I finish."

Nick and Jen walked toward the front doors of Sunrise when Nick's phone rang again. Nick looked at the caller I.D. and said, "It's the Chief."

Jen pressed her lips tight and raised her eyebrows.

Nick answered, "Yes, Chief."

"Internal affairs is crawling all over the precinct. They'd like a few weeks of your time."

Nick said, "We're just walking into an interview, I'm thinking I won't be back to the precinct until later tonight or sometime tomorrow. We have a kidnapping victim we're trying to find before she's murdered. I.A. will have to wait their turn."

There was a long pause before the Chief said, "I'll let I.A. know that you aren't available. Don't make me regret holding off the hounds. It'll help if you don't add any more bodies to today's count."

Nick repeated the Chief's message to Jen. His phone rang again. "Stryker."

His fiancée Lacey was calling. "Nick, you're late. Are you on your way?"

"I'm late?" Nick glanced at Jen for help.

Jen shrugged.

Lacey sighed, "You forgot our dinner plans at Legends? Buddy Guy? My boss and his wife?"

Nick moaned, that was tonight? "I'm tied up, I'm really sorry." He hoped his heartfelt apology would stretch to cover the rest of the evening. "I can't break away."

Nick could picture Lacey's facial expression from the tone of her voice. "I understand. Be careful."

Nick grimaced, "I love you."

"Me, too."

Nick slipped his phone into his pocket.

Jen asked, "So you and Lacey are okay?"

Nick held the door open for her. "Oh, hell no."

# CHAPTER 15

Lucas pulled one of the leather chairs slightly away from Tony's desk and sat. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and flexed the fingers of his right hand. "I have a problem."

Tony felt the hairs on his arms rise and his palms began to sweat. He had a nightmare that had started like this once, and it didn't end well. He clumsily dropped the empty vodka glass into his bottom drawer and braced himself for the wrath that was sure to come.

Lucas' eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. Tony flinched. Lucas punctuated each word through clenched teeth. "You lied to me. I know every mistake John has made. So do the cops. They found the body bags at the brewery. Now they can tie the hospital's van to the brewery."

Tony sputtered, "There's no way they could have connected our van to the brewery."

Lucas slammed his fist on Tony's desk. "Listen to me!"

Tony felt light headed.

Lucas curled his index finger for Tony to lean closer. Tony slowly leaned forward. Lucas grabbed a handful of Tony's hair and slammed the side of Tony's face onto the desk, mindful not to break his nose.

Lucas leaned in and snarled, "Kids, Tony. Kids discovered the body bags at the brewery and called the cops. They also told the cops about the creepy grey van always coming around. The same creepy van that shot a reporter's car to hell. Our whole operation is now at risk because of your idiot brother-in-law. You think I don't have ears on the street?"

Lucas released Tony's head with a jerk and leaned back in his chair. He inspected his nails as he talked. "So let's polish our spin on this. John is responsible for everything. He took advantage of your relationship. You are shocked and horrified that he would blemish the hospital this way. The end. That's all you know. I'm told that Detective Stryker and an associate are parked out front right now. I'll stay for your interview as your attorney."

Tony was more worried about what Lucas wasn't saying. It all came down to how important he was to Lucas and to the Family. As far as he knew, this was the first time there had ever been a problem. Tony smoothed his hair and resisted the urge to rub the side of his face that Lucas had slammed into the desktop. This was not the time to look weak. The interview with Stryker would be his audition to keep living.

Tony straightened his tie and said, "I'll fix this."

Tony's receptionist buzzed that Detectives Taylor and Stryker were waiting. Tony crossed the office to greet them. The door opened and Tony was momentarily stunned by the intensity of Nick's stare. He watched as Nick's eyes darted past him and scanned the office. It was as if the air was being sucked from the room. There was something different about this detective. A presence. A military posture that Tony found threatening.

Tony extended his hand to Jen. "Dr. Antonio Scalla, and you are?"

"Detective Jen Taylor. This is Detective Nick Stryker."

Tony extended his hand to Nick. Nick firmly gripped Tony's hand and then quickly released it. Nick felt the clammy sweat of Tony's palm and began watching his body language.

Tony ushered them into the office where Lucas stood next to the desk.

Tony gestured toward Lucas. "At your recommendation, Detective Stryker, I invited my attorney, Lucas Costellano, to join us for this interview."

Lucas simply nodded and sat back down in the seat. He made no attempt to shake hands but had placed his business cards on the desk for Nick and Jen. Tony returned to his seat behind the desk.

Lucas asked, "What is the nature of this visit, Detective Stryker?"

Nick had lifted the card from the desk. "I notice there is no title on your card, Mr. Costellano."

Lucas said, "In most circles my name will suffice. I assure you, I represent Sunrise Specialty Hospital. Again, what is the nature of this visit?"

Nick ignored Lucas and asked Tony, "I mentioned to you this afternoon that John Miller was arrested with incriminating items in your hospital van. Can you explain his relationship to the hospital, please?"

Jen had opened a small spiral notebook and began taking notes.

Tony didn't even glance at Lucas and answered, "John has worked for Sunrise for a few years now. His primary job is to transport medical waste to our crematorium."

Jen asked, "Where exactly is your crematorium located?"

Lucas interrupted, "Our hospital brochure provides that information. I'll see that you get one before you leave."

Nick ignored Lucas and asked Tony. "Can you think of any reason John would have an AK-47 in the hospital's van?"

Tony shook his head. "I can't imagine. We have over two hundred employees, Detective Stryker. Like I mentioned in our phone conversation, John Miller had some personnel issues that were recently brought to my attention..."

Nick interrupted, "Isn't he your brother-in-law?"

Lucas' eyes darted to Tony.

Tony's left eye twitched. "He is...he is, but John is a difficult person to get close to. Outside of work I seldom spend time with him." Tony's mind raced. Should he say more?

His heart was pounding but he tried to look casual. He was waiting to see if Nick accepted his answer. What else had John told this cop?

Nick noted that Tony's body language had just displayed four 'tells' that he was lying. "Let's go back to his job duties then. Is there any reason he would have road construction signs in the van?"

Tony cleared his throat and his brows furrowed. "Clearly, John was using the hospital's van for unauthorized purposes."

Nick asked, "So he had full access to the van after his regular work hours?"

Tony nodded his head. "Oh yes. Our drivers consider that one of their benefits."

Nick leaned forward. "Then why did you report it stolen?"

Tony stammered, "I...I thought John was driving one of our other vans." Tony could feel beads of sweat running down his back. This detective wasn't going to let go.

Lucas interrupted. "I believe it's obvious that Mr. Miller has been engaging in activities unrelated to his employment. Therefore, Mr. Scalla would have no knowledge."

Jen asked, "This hospital is most famous for organ transplants, is that correct?"

Tony answered, "Yes. Our reputation is above reproach."

Jen leaned forward, "Who coordinates a patient's need for an organ and an available donor?"

Tony answered, "That's part of my duties as administrator. Sunrise has long established relationships with numerous donor programs around the world."

Lucas raised his palm. "Perhaps we can speed this up. Exactly what do you want to know?"

Nick shot Lucas a laser stare. "I want to know where in this hospital Sharon Perez is being held. I have evidence that John kidnapped her and brought her here."

Tony went pale.

Lucas smiled. "Obviously, your evidence is flawed." Lucas stood. "If Mr. Miller is indeed guilty of your accusations, he would not dare to conduct illegal activity here. You are wasting our valuable time with your speculations, Detective Stryker. Do you have a search warrant for this hospital?"

"No."

Nick continued to stare. He didn't like his read on Lucas. Lucas was confident and cocky. More than a lawyer, he had the black, dead eyes of a sociopath. His expensive suit and manicure did little to mask the fact he was a soulless thug.

Lucas continued to smile. "In a gesture of good faith, I will allow a staff member to give you a tour of the facility. I'll instruct them to take you anywhere you want to go. Would that satisfy your curiosity, Detective Stryker?" Lucas' eyes narrowed in hawk-like concentration.

Nick glanced at Jen. They now knew that Sharon was already dead, or had been moved. Still, Nick wanted to see the layout of the hospital. "I appreciate the tour. One last thing, John Miller is dead. He was shot shortly after his arrest."

Nick watched Tony and Lucas' facial expressions. Tony didn't know that John was dead. Lucas did.

Lucas shrugged. "It seems Mr. Miller had both issues and enemies. You take your tour detectives. Take your time." Lucas furrowed his brows and glared at Nick. "After today, if Sunrise Hospital is bothered with this nonsense again, I'll start calling people much more powerful than your superiors."

Nick took one step closer to Lucas, invading his personal space. Lucas pulled his head back.

Nick flatly stated, "You may as well start making your calls. This has just begun." Nick stared long enough for Lucas' upper lip to twitch.

Nick turned to Jen, "Let's take our tour."

Lucas opened the door, pointed to an orderly and instructed the orderly to assist in a search of the premises. Heat was rising up his neck. His hands had clenched into fists. He exhaled slowly as he watched Nick, Jen and the orderly enter the elevator.

Lucas walked back into Tony's office closing the door behind him. Detective Stryker was either a fool or a threat. He needed to find out which.

Tony was incredulous. "We can't let them search!"

Lucas answered, "I had her removed. I just got the text from my ambulance driver that they have her. Don't worry, I'll have her back in time for her noon surgery tomorrow. You just make sure there are no more screw ups."

"She's due for medication!"

Lucas sneered, "So what if she comes to? There's nothing she can do."

Tony had to tell his sister she was a widow. Lucas hadn't wasted any time eliminating John. "You killed all three of them?"

"They're replaceable. Call me tomorrow when Heather Sanford's surgery is completed."

Tony watched as Lucas left his office. He reached in his bottom drawer for his vodka. All he had to do was make it through tomorrow with no more mistakes.

Tony dialed his sister, June. She answered, "Tony?"

Tony took a deep breath. "Look, there's no easy way to say this, Sis. John's been shot and killed."

There was silence.

June asked, "You promised me you wouldn't kill him! Why did you do it?"

"Lucas had it done. The police are going to be at your place any time now. I'm counting on you."

June answered, "I'm counting on you! I'm going to need a lot of money. You're taking care of me, right?"

"Yes."

Tony drummed his fingers on his desktop and then paged his admissions office.

"This is Dr. Scalla. Has Heather Sanford checked in yet?" He waited a moment and then said, "Let me know when she arrives."

June Miller dropped her phone on the couch cushion and mindlessly resumed stroking her cat. She knew that Tony did business with dangerous people. At first, it excited her that Tony had brought John into her life. It didn't take long for her to discover Tony merely wanted John under June's watchful eye. John was a screw up. His childlike tantrums were a bore. She knew this day would eventually come. At least while he worked for Tony he had been a good provider. Tony would take care of her now as long as she kept the heat off from him. That was the deal.

June pushed the cat from her lap as she stood. If the police were coming she needed to get ready. She glanced down at her tight sweater with the plunging 'v' to her cleavage and sighed. She didn't want to look like a tart to the cops. What in the world did she have that was fitting for a grieving widow?

******

Nick had planted a bug under the edge of Tony's desk. It was illegal and useless in court but it might help him find Sharon. He listened to Lucas and Tony through an earpiece as the orderly guided them through the halls of the hospital.

Nick asked the orderly, "Where are the donated organs received?"

The orderly stopped walking. "There is a secure area in part of the basement where those surgeries take place. The organs are delivered through a special garage bay and elevator."

Nick said, "I want to see that. Let's start outside at the garage."

The orderly looked worried. "I don't have the special codes required to get into those areas."

Nick said, "Let's go there anyway."

Nick listened to Tony's side of the phone conversation to his sister. Tony had warned his sister the police were coming and said, "I'm counting on you."

The name Heather Sanford had surfaced twice in the conversation between Lucas and Tony. She had a scheduled surgery tomorrow and was expected to arrive tonight. Lucas mentioned returning Sharon in time for a noon surgery. Heather Sanford was likely the planned recipient of Sharon's organs.

******

Peter brought a beer from his refrigerator and handed it to Kevin. Kevin took a few gulps and sat it down on the coffee table. Peter raced over with a coaster and wiped the coffee table with his sleeve. He frowned at Kevin and said, "Were you raised in a barn?"

Kevin winced, "Close. You ought to know!"

Peter felt a wave of guilt wash over him. How could he be so insensitive? He looked at Kevin and said, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. There isn't a thing I own more important to me than your feelings."

Kevin gave a dismissive wave with his hand. "Don't worry about it. It was a cheap shot for me to say what I did. My childhood wasn't your fault."

Kevin was obsessed with worry about Sharon. He was getting a headache. Finally, his thoughts focused on Peter's problem. Peter, the solid, boring stockbroker that had confessed to murdering Nick Stryker for no reason.

He looked at Peter and asked, "Why are you guys all together again? Did something else happen?"

Peter pointed to Darla as the group's spokesperson since she would have interrupted him anyway. When Darla had finished, Kevin took another gulp from the beer.

He covered his mouth and belched. "So the FBI isn't going to do anything? Even though the mayor's been threatened?"

Cynthia said, "Agent Phillips pointed out that the only people that have broken the law are us." She glanced at Peter and smiled. "Peter thinks we can at least do some investigating on the developer of this program. We're hoping to find something the police can use. There must be a reason it was developed in the first place."

Peter said, "I've already started investigating through my business resources. The intellectual property copyright of the Mandarin program is to Dr. Derrick Sanford and Jason Little. The company is very small from what I can find; just those two people. Dr. Sanford considered taking his company public last year and filed the financials with the Chicago Board of Trade. The financial numbers for this program are impressive. The Mandarin program has obtained worldwide sales and recognition. It was perfectly positioned for stock investors. Less than a week after filing his request, his application to go public was withdrawn. He mentioned in his withdrawal request that his clients preferred that he stay private."

Kevin asked, "I'm not sure I understand. Why wouldn't his clients want him to go public?"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Only two reasons I can think of. He's doing, or is expecting to do, some dirty work his clients don't want discovered. Or, he decided to sell this Mandarin program with the hypnotic twist to some shady group instead of taking on stock investors. He probably can get a decent piece of change for a program like this. I just don't know what to do next."

Kevin said, "Why don't I call him? I'm a reporter. I could tell him I'm working on a science piece for the paper. I could tell him I've heard of his research; appeal to his ego."

Darla jumped up from her seat. "Ooo! That sounds good. I could go with you as your assistant. If there's only two employees, I might be able to do some snooping." Her eyes lit up. "I could use Cynthia's camera! I could be your photographer!"

Dolly frowned at Darla. "There's a whole lot of opportunity for something to go really bad in that plan."

Darla said, "It's gotta be me and Kevin; they know everything about the rest of you."

Kevin glanced at his watch. "It's getting late. Why don't I go ahead and call and see if he's still there? What can it hurt? I need to do something to take my mind off Sharon for a while or I'll go crazy."

Kevin's cell rang. His caller I.D. didn't display a name. "Hello?"

"Hey Kevin. This is Brian. Judge White's bailiff?"

Kevin had a lot of people that fed him news stories. Brian was a trusted source and Kevin had spent years and many hours at the bar convincing him to give up news.

"Hey, Brian. What's up?"

"I know you're hip deep in the crime news these days. This might be nothing but Nick Stryker is trying to get the judge to give him a search warrant for Sunrise Specialty Hospital. Can you believe it? That's the most prestigious hospital in Chicago. Judge White won't do it though. He says Stryker's playing hunches. You know the expression 'where there's smoke, there's fire? I thought you could snoop it out. I think the judge is more than just mad, I think he's worried. Stryker doesn't make many mistakes."

Kevin wondered if Nick's request to search the hospital had anything to do with Sharon missing.

Kevin asked, "When did Stryker call?"

Brian answered, "Just a while ago. I only found out because the judge is ranting about how the hospital saved his wife with a new heart and all."

Kevin's mind flashed a large 'Bingo' sign. "They do organ transplants there?"

"Yeah. It's their specialty." Kevin's heart was pounding; Nick was on to something. Kevin thanked Brian for the tip and turned to tell Peter and the others when his phone rang again. He looked at the caller I.D., it was his editor, Jack.

"Hey, Jack. What's up?"

"First, sorry you got shot at. You're obviously alive, so I expect the story by midnight deadline. Second, I just got a tip about a shooting at the 107th precinct. Get your ass over there! Some guy conned his way into the holding area and shot three of Nick Stryker's prisoners."

"What?"

"Is it a hearing or a comprehension problem? Every time I give you an assignment you say 'What?', instead of, 'I'm on it!'. Get over there!" Jack hung up.

Kevin looked at the expectant faces of Peter, Cynthia, Darla and Dolly. There was no way he could be helping Peter, writing a story and going to the precinct at the same time. He looked at his watch.

Peter leaned forward, "Is everything okay? What's happening?"

Kevin decided to trust that Nick was doing everything possible to save Sharon. His brother's life was spinning out of control. Peter needed him. Some sick bastard had instructed him to shoot the mayor. He could help Peter now, and pray that Nick would call with good news about Sharon.

Kevin looked at Peter and shrugged. "What's happening? A bunch of shit that isn't as important as you. Did you find an address for Sanford's office? Let's put this plan into action."

Cynthia whispered to Darla, "We have a plan?"

# CHAPTER 16

Sharon heard voices. Two men. Traffic. She was in a vehicle. A loud motor vibrated beneath her.

Voice one said, "What are we supposed to do? Just drive her around?"

Voice two answered, "Lucas said to drive her around until he calls. Then we just take her back."

Voice one said, "Don't you think this is kind of strange?"

Voice two chuckled, "You're going to question Lucas? With what we're getting paid, this gig is golden. The cops won't stop an ambulance. Just relax and drive."

Sharon peeked through her lashes. She was definitely in an ambulance. She could feel the straps that were binding her but she couldn't feel any injuries. Why would these men be driving her around in an ambulance? Who was Lucas?

She had a headache. The kind of headache she always got from medication. Someone had drugged her. Why? Her mind flashed images of her carjacking. Tears began to stream from the corners of her eyes. She had been kidnapped.

Voice two asked, "Where did you put the dope? If she wakes up I'm going to shoot her up again. I don't need some bawling bitch back there."

Voice one answered, "It's in the box next to her head. The needle's ready."

Sharon's eyes darted to her right. A metal box with a medical insignia on the front sat strapped on a shelf next to her head. The sunshine blasted through the windshield creating shadows of two heads on the back door of the ambulance. They were sitting only feet away from her. Her head and shoulders were elevated slightly. She lifted her neck slowly about two inches and moved her head slightly to look to her left. In her peripheral vision she saw the back of a man's head. Terror raced through her mind holding hands with her imagination.

She forced herself to calm down. She had to pretend she was still drugged or they would drug her again. What could she focus on? Kevin. Kevin would figure out she was missing. Sharon began to pray.

*****

The orderly escorting Nick and Jen around the hospital called Tony and requested the code for opening the garage door and the elevator to the secured basement. Tony gave the garage door number, but not the elevator code.

Tony answered, "Tell Detective Stryker he can have the elevator code when he gets a warrant. That's a sterile surgical area."

The orderly apologized to Nick. "Sorry. The basement is off limits. I can describe it to you though."

Nick smiled. "I'd appreciate that." Nick took out his notebook and pen and handed them to the orderly. "Can you draw me a map of the setup?"

While the orderly drew a map, Nick took a few pictures of the inside of the 'receiving' garage and the elevator control panel. He could break the code once he had the device model number.

Back outside, Nick's attention was drawn to a black limousine parked by the front entrance. The back door opened and Elizabeth Hull stepped out into the sunshine.

Nick said to Jen, "I wonder what she's doing here?"

The orderly's eyes followed Nick's gaze and answered, "Ms. Hull? She's here to see her mom, Mrs. Schultz." The orderly rolled his eyes and pointed to the third floor. "Mrs. Schultz is in the Presidential Suite. It looks like a 3000 square foot apartment. I've only been in it a couple of times."

Nick said, "Excuse me a minute." He walked over to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth's eyes opened wide with recognition. "Detective. Oh, what wonderful timing!" She shoved a wad of tissue into her purse and grabbed Nick's arm with both hands. "Could you please come with me? I'm here to tell mother about Marvin. You could answer mother's questions and frankly I'm afraid of how she is going to take the news. She's already very weak."

Nick asked, "How long has your mother been here?"

Elizabeth answered, "Nearly a month now. She just doesn't seem to get better. It's her heart."

"Why is she at Sunrise?"

Elizabeth looked surprised by the question. "Because they are the best private hospital in the area, of course. We couldn't put her just anywhere." She looked at Nick as if he should have known the answer before he asked the question. Then she asked, "Are you here to visit a family member?"

Nick answered, "Business." He thought about Elizabeth's request and said, "Let me talk to my partner a minute and then I'll go with you to tell your mother."

Nick walked over toward Jen and motioned for her to walk away from the orderly.

Nick said, "Elizabeth Hull's mother is here. She wants me to go with her to tell her mother about Marvin and his family." Nick lowered his voice, "There's a white SUV parked in the corner of the lot with two occupants. They were here when we arrived."

Jen glanced quickly behind Nick and saw the SUV. "Got it."

Nick said, "I left a bug in Scalla's office. Lucas had an ambulance take Sharon."

Jen said, "I can put out a BOLO for ambulances with Sharon's pic. Who do you think is in the white SUV over there?"

"See if you can get a plate number without being noticed. It seems odd that they parked in the back corner in the shade of those trees. If I was Lucas, I would have someone ready to follow us when we leave. Also, call Sam and have him send us whatever he can find on Lucas Costellano." Nick smiled. "Maybe you can charm our orderly and see what he thinks of working here. I'll call you as soon as I'm done with Elizabeth."

******

J. T. Barrimore sat in his Gold Coast office on Michigan Avenue and watched the Chicago traffic transition from commuters racing to get to the suburbs, to early diners and shoppers leisurely walking the glitz lined sidewalks. If everything went as planned, Dr. Derrick Sanford would be dead this evening. If Lucas had truly tipped off the FBI to the program the money trail would lead back to Lucas, not him.

J.T.'s cell rang with a call from his programmer, Matt, in the Indianapolis office.

"You asked me to identify subjects ready for video commands. I have a group of five subjects that appear to have finished the program. They should be capable of taking a command at this stage."

"Have you reviewed their bios?"

Matt answered, "There is a Gill Mackey that I think is the best of the group."

J.T. smiled to himself. This program was a hitman's dream. "I trust your judgement. Send Mr. Mackey the video to shoot Sanford. I just spoke to Dr. Sanford. He is preparing to take his daughter to Sunrise Specialty Hospital. Provide our subject any information you can find that will be helpful; home, office, auto...everything. Send a photo of Dr. Sanford and have the subject act immediately. Suggest to him that he is an experienced, trained assassin. Boost his confidence."

Matt chuckled, "I knew this would be fun."

"You're sure the program will delete from his device once he reviews the video?"

Matt answered, "It's fairly straightforward. There's a code line that detaches the parasite program just prior to deleting the Mandarin program. If the Mandarin program is somehow reinstalled, the parasite remains invisible. I'll send an alert message to his device instructing him to update his program. That way we'll know when he receives the video."

J.T. responded, "Good. I want this done immediately. Emphasize that he needs to act quickly. How long until you can have the video sent to him?"

Matt thought a moment. "The video is nearly ready. I'd say within the next ten minutes."

J. T. hung up and smiled to himself. Derrick Sanford was the only person that could tie him to the purchase of the program. Soon he'd be shot dead by one of his own subjects. Even if the police caught the shooter, J.T. was clean. J.T. decided to spend a couple of hours at the club. He would have plenty of witnesses there. It was the perfect alibi. Even the killer wouldn't know why he did it.

******

"Are you crying?" Peter stood in the doorway between his living room and the kitchen. Cynthia stood in front of the kitchen sink looking out the window dabbing a tissue to her eyes.

She turned and nodded her head slightly. "I'm afraid. It terrifies me that someone was able to get into my mind. Someone has the power to make me do horrible things. What if it's more than just the Mandarin program? We've been re-wired to obey."

Peter hadn't really thought about them being vulnerable outside of the Mandarin program. It made sense that once they were programed to obey, commands could come to them from any number of innocent looking sources.

Cynthia could tell from Peter's expression that he hadn't even thought about them still being vulnerable.

She stepped closer to him. "I'm sorry. The last thing any of us needs is something else to worry about."

Her eyes looked so sad it was breaking his heart. The next thing he knew he was hugging her. "I don't know the answers yet but you're not alone. I'm here for you. We'll all get through this."

Darla and Dolly stepped into the kitchen in a hunt for food and stopped in the doorway at the sight of Peter and Cynthia hugging.

Darla winked at Dolly and they backed into the living room.

Darla whispered, "Ain't that sweet? Maybe someday we'll have little baby fruitcakes."

Kevin shouted from the living room for Peter. "I've got an address for his office and his assistant Jason Little, says he's supposed to return to the office soon."

Peter stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room with Cynthia next to him. "Then I guess it's a go. Try to get him to send you some kind of an attachment through his email. I might be able to hack him."

Kevin was astonished that Peter had hacking skills. "Really? How good are you?"

Peter's smile was almost sinister, "You don't get to be Broker of the Year, three years in a row, by using common resources."

Darla whispered to Dolly, "Dang."

******

Lucas didn't trust Tony's judgment. Tony should have realized that John didn't have the temperament for the job. There was no place in Lucas' organization for people he didn't trust. After Heather Sanford's surgery tomorrow, he would get rid of Tony. The organ business would have to rely on legal donors until the Family selected a new administrator. Dr. Elis, the chief surgeon would be his first choice. He was loyal to the Family and spent every penny they sent his way. An increase in salary and title of administrator would be enough to secure his loyalty.

Lucas gazed out his office window as his mind ran a risk analysis of his current situation. How much could the cops really know? With the entire kidnapping team dead, there was no link left to the hospital. Detective Stryker might have suspicions but so what? Just the sheer volume of fresh homicides in Chicago almost guaranteed that Stryker would soon be distracted.

His thoughts turned to J.T. Barrimore. In his opinion the Family had given J.T. far too much information and power. They didn't know J.T. like he did. J.T. had no conscience and would come after any one of them if the price was right. It was only a matter of time before J.T. would manipulate the Family to take over Lucas' position. Lucas conceded that with J.T.'s connections he could do a better job.

Lucas smiled at his reflection on the window glass. He had just called the FBI with his tip about J.T. Barrimore buying a hypnotic program from Dr. Derrick Sanford. He made sure the FBI understood the potential dangers of the program before he hung up. Once the FBI confirmed the purchase transaction they would be all over J.T.

The Family wouldn't like that. J.T. would be done.

******

Jen smiled at the orderly. "I hate to ask this of you but do you have a car here?"

The orderly smiled back. He was obviously smitten by Jen's attention. He pointed to a lot on the far right behind the buildings. "My car is parked in the employee lot. Why?"

Jen asked, "My partner thinks that white SUV in the corner is suspicious. He wants me to get the plate number. I'd look less conspicuous in a car than on foot."

"Cool. I'll drive."

As the orderly carefully moved items from the passenger seat to cover up the three joints in the console he asked, "Can I ask what the cops are doing here?"

Jen answered, "You can ask, but I can't answer. Do you like working here?"

The orderly nodded his head as he eased the car from a back entrance of the lot and onto a dirt drive used by the maintenance staff. "Most days. It's a job."

Jen asked, "What parts don't you like?"

The orderly scrunched up his face and looked at her. "The organ part, you know? We've got a whole room of machines hooked up to pieces of people. It's kind of creepy."

"Do they have special staff for that room?"

"Oh yeah. That whole side of the basement is off limits unless you're on Dr. Elis' team. He's the primary transplant surgeon." The orderly pointed to a row of shrubs. "We're directly behind that S.U.V. now."

******

Nick held the door for Elizabeth as they entered the Presidential Suite. Polished marble floors echoed their steps until they reached the thick wool carpet of the massive sitting room. Mrs. Schultz sat on a tapestry print wing back chair next to a floor-to-ceiling window. A small walnut table to the right of her chair displayed a silver tray complete with a small tea pot and cup.

She was fully dressed in a powder blue day suit. Her makeup was expertly applied and subtle. Nick saw the resemblance to Elizabeth immediately. Mrs. Schultz was a very attractive woman for her age. Seemingly out of place was an I.V. tube that ran from her forearm to the suspended bag hanging from the metal standing rack to her left.

Elizabeth introduced him to her mother. "Mother, this is Detective Nick Stryker. Detective Stryker, this is my mother, Nadine Schultz."

Nick clasped his hands around hers and felt the coolness of her bony fingers. He held her hand for a minute and said, "Mrs. Schultz, it's a pleasure to meet you. I wish it were under better circumstances; I'm afraid we have bad news."

Elizabeth burst into loud sobs and Nadine's eyes opened wide. "My Lord, Liz. Do compose yourself."

Elizabeth waved her hands in front of her face. "I can't do this! You tell her."

Nadine looked squarely at Nick. "Tell me what?"

Nick pulled a chair over from a nearby table and sat. "Your son, Marvin, his wife Carla, and your granddaughter, Allison, are dead."

"Dead?" Nadine looked at Elizabeth. "How? What happened?"

Elizabeth whispered, "They were murdered, Mother."

Nadine placed her hands over her heart.

Nick leaned forward, "Are you okay?"

Nadine's eyes filled with tears as she nodded. She looked at Nick. "Do you have their murderer in custody?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Do you have any leads?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Nadine straightened in her chair and slightly raised her chin. "I want to know how they died."

Nick answered, "Their bodies were discovered this morning. The coroner has yet to determine the manner of death."

Nadine's eyes scanned Nick's. "Why then is this being called murder, Detective Stryker?"

"The circumstances of where their bodies were found... and other factors. I'd rather wait to tell you more when I have the final coroner's report."

Nadine's eyes flashed. "I may not be in the best of health but I can smell missing information like a bloodhound smells a downed bird." She pointed her finger at Nick and said, "I have a right to know exactly why you believe my son and his family were murdered, young man."

Nick could imagine this crusty old gal in a board meeting. "Their bodies were found in an abandoned brewery building. All three of them were in body bags and missing vital organs."

Elizabeth howled. Nadine closed her eyes.

Nadine looked at Elizabeth and said, "Could you please see if Tony is available to speak to me? I believe he should be made aware of this development."

Elizabeth blinked a couple of times and then stood. "I'll go get him for you."

When Elizabeth had left the room, Nadine asked, "These leads you have...Do they point to a motive for why my son and his family were targeted, Detective Stryker?"

Nick sensed that Nadine was unaccustomed to not being in control. "I can't answer that question until I have more information. I notified Elizabeth earlier today at your home. She was concerned the news may worsen your health condition."

Nadine frowned. "Nonsense. Elizabeth is weak. Her only concern is selecting her fifth husband. Marvin is, was, a man of character. You'll find no skeletons in his closets. He would fight to the death to protect his family, Detective. You found defensive wounds didn't you?"

Nick nodded. "There are numerous defensive wounds on both Marvin and Carla."

Nadine's eyelids briefly closed and reopened. "I called little Allison my angel." Nadine dabbed a tissue to her nose. "I was so looking forward to their visit." Nadine smoothed her skirt, a tear slowly trailing down her cheek. "Please find the monster that did this."

Nick's mind flashed an image of Allison in the body bag. "I will."

Nadine seemed to pull strength from some core reservoir in her soul as she straightened her shoulders back and asked, "Do you have a number I can use to reach you, Detective?"

Nick pulled a card from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. Nadine's demeanor was shifting. She was a warrior and her family had been attacked. "Call me anytime."

Nadine reached for Nick's hand and gave him a squeeze. "You must find our Allison's killer. You've lost valuable time here with me."

"I came here to the hospital on official business. I didn't know you were here until I ran into Elizabeth in the parking lot." Nick could practically see thoughts racing through Nadine's mind in her intense stare.

Nadine raised her chin and coldly stated, "Allow me a brief moment of reflection. A homicide detective comes to this hospital on official business. A detective working on a case where the victims are missing organs visits a hospital famous for transplants. Am I on to something? No matter Detective, you needn't answer that. Merely the ramblings of an old lady's deductive imagination. Detective Stryker, do you believe that Elizabeth and I are in danger?"

Nick suspected that everyone at Sunrise Specialty Hospital was at risk. "It couldn't hurt to get a second opinion on your medical condition from someone outside of Sunrise."

Nadine's eyes narrowed. "A second opinion?"

Nick squeezed her hand gently. "Yes, a second opinion."

Nadine slid her hand back to her lap. Her eyes never left Nick's.

Nick added, "Soon."

# CHAPTER 17

Sharon was keenly aware of the horror of her situation. She had to escape. Her eyes darted around the walls of the ambulance and landed on the medical box next to her head. Whatever drug they planned on giving her was in that box. The head of the gurney was slightly elevated preventing her from seeing her kidnappers. It also shielded her from their direct vision. She could tell they were about four feet behind her and engaged in a heated discussion about the Chicago Cubs.

Her eyes glanced down at the straps that bound her. They had red release buttons similar to car seat belts. She inched her right arm out from under the strap freeing her right hand quite easily. Obviously they were counting on her being medically restrained.

She pushed the red button on the strap restraining her left arm and caught the end of the strap before it dropped to the side. She slowly pulled herself up enough to the right to reach down and release the strap near her knees. One strap remained at her ankles. Her feet could easily slide out from under the strap when the time was right.

With her right hand she carefully opened the door of the medical box. The needle was leaning against a bandage box in the center. She cupped it in her hand and closed the lid. Wanting to keep her left arm still in case they could see movement she used her thumb of her right hand to rub against the needle cap until she felt it ease off. Her heart pounded. Could she attack her kidnappers and survive?

The ambulance was making a turn and slowing down. Were they at their destination? Had her time run out? The ambulance stopped. The roar of the motor beneath her silenced.

Voice one said, "It's been almost two hours driving around and I didn't have lunch. I'm going to run in and get some food. Do you want something?"

Voice two said, "Yeah. Get me a couple of burgers." There were some rustling sounds and then voice two said, "Is ten enough?"

Sharon heard the driver's door open. "Back in a minute." The door slammed shut.

She held her breath expecting the passenger to step into the back to check on her. He didn't. Sharon heard him talking on his phone. "I might be late tonight. Got a last minute gig from Lucas and I don't know how long it'll be."

There was that name again. Lucas. Sharon decided it was now or never. She freed her feet, swung her legs to land next to the gurney and leaped toward the front seat. The man in the passenger seat began to turn toward her. She stabbed the needle into his neck as his hand gripped her wrist and pulled. Sharon pushed the plunger of the needle and screamed in terror at his twisted expression. His eyes fluttered, his hand dropped from her wrist and his phone dropped to his lap. Sharon grabbed the phone and jumped out the back door of the ambulance.

Her legs felt weak as she landed on the pavement. For a moment she thought they would fold under her. She inched her way past the ambulance and moved to hide next to a parked sedan. The parking lot was for an establishment called 'Happy Burgers'. Through the tall tinted windows, she could see a man standing at the counter ordering food. He had to be her other kidnapper.

A rush of fear washed over her as she imagined him glancing her way and beginning a chase. Behind the last row of cars in the parking lot was a group of old apartment buildings. Sharon forced her legs to run. A row of dumpsters sat at the side of the brick building and she squeezed between them for cover. It took all of her courage to glance back toward the ambulance. No one was chasing her yet.

With one eye on the Happy Burger door and the other on the stolen phone she punched in 911. The 911 operator answered, "This is 911. What is your emergency?"

Sharon gripped the phone tight, it was her only link to safety. "My name is Sharon Perez. I was kidnapped and I have escaped. Please send the police to come get me!"

The 911 operator asked, "You are calling from a cell phone. Where are you?"

Sharon realized the call center could only connect her to the nearest tower, if that. "I'm hiding behind some dumpsters behind the parking lot of Happy Burgers. My kidnapper is inside getting food."

The 911 operator asked, "Do you see a street sign anywhere?"

Sharon inched out from her hiding spot and looked toward the street. There were no signs. "I don't see any signs anywhere! I'm standing next to an apartment building that has a big 'C' on the bricks. I'm hiding behind the dumpsters."

The 911 operator said, "Can you check inside the dumpster for any mail? I need an address."

Sharon lifted the lid and was assaulted with the smells of garbage. A cloud of flies escaped and buzzed around her head. "Can I put the phone down? I need two hands to tear open a bag."

The 911 operator assured her she would stay on the line. Sharon carefully placed the phone on the ground, took a deep breath and flipped the lid of the dumpster bin completely open. She quickly glanced toward the Happy Burger door and saw her kidnapper walk toward the ambulance.

She grabbed the top bag and tossed it to the ground next to her and the brick wall. She dropped to her knees and began tearing through the contents. Finally, she caught sight of an envelope covered in spaghetti noodles. She pulled it free and saw it was a disconnect notice for an electric bill.

She picked up the phone, "Are you still there?"

"I'm here. Did you find something?"

Sharon exhaled, "Yes. The address is 14438-C South Green Street, Chicago. You must hurry! The kidnapper has left the Happy Burger building and will start looking for me any minute."

The 911 operator said, "I am dispatching patrol officers to your location. Stay on the line with me until they get there."

Sharon peeked between the dumpsters and saw the ambulance man dash from the ambulance to the middle of the parking lot. He slowly turned his body in a circle and scanned all directions. He was looking for her! Suddenly he stopped and stared right at her. Sharon felt her heart pounding in her chest. She felt his stare burn a hole in her forehead. He started walking in her direction.

Sharon whispered into the phone, "Oh my God! He's coming right at me!"

******

Lucas glanced at his watch, 6:30. He had spent the last hour answering emails requesting organs. People with money didn't want to wait on a registry list. His problem with Tony made him reluctant to make any promises. He would only be able to stall the requests for a few days before the Family would get wind there was a problem in Lucas' organization.

Lucas slipped his suit jacket on and tapped in the number for his current girlfriend. "I'm leaving the office soon; do you still want to go to Legends tonight?" Lucas smiled at her enthusiastic answer and responded, "I'll pick you up within the hour."

In the parking garage his car lock chirped the exact moment his cell rang. He slid onto the leather seat and answered as he turned the ignition. A voice on the other end said, "Mr. Costellano? She escaped! I don't know where she is!"

Lucas rested his elbow on the arm rest and rubbed his temple. He made every effort to keep his voice free of the rage he was feeling. "Where are you?"

Lucas listened as the ambulance driver told the story of Sharon's escape at Happy Burger. Today had been cursed by some unknown evil. He already had ordered three of his men shot and four others had been killed by the police. He had to find this girl before she talked to anyone.

"I'm sending a crew. Find her!"

Lucas ended the call and tapped in the number for one of his street leaders. "How many men are with you?"

"Three."

"Get over to Green Street in the 14000 block. Happy Burger parking lot. A girl escaped our guys from an ambulance." Lucas took a deep breath. "I'll send you her picture. I want her found. Dead or alive. Do it!"

******

Tony had returned to his office from his visit with Nadine Schultz. That stupid cop had gotten her all upset. She had insisted she wanted to go home until after the funeral of her son and his family. Tony helped Elizabeth pack a small bag for her and escorted them to Elizabeth's car. It seemed everything had gone wrong today.

His cell phone rang, it was Lucas. "Tony."

"We have another problem. Sharon Perez has escaped. Can she identify you?"

Tony thought back to when he did the tissue sample and Sharon opened her eyes. "She opened her eyes for a minute but I drugged her again right away. She was probably too drugged to focus." Tony was secretly glad that Lucas had a problem with his men today, too. Maybe he'd be a little more forgiving about John's mistakes.

Lucas said, "Okay. When we catch her we'll try to keep her alive. I'll call you when we're bringing her back." Lucas paused. "The surgery is still on for tomorrow, right?"

"Right." Tony wondered what they would do if Lucas didn't find Sharon but he wasn't going to ask.

******

Sharon watched as the man from the ambulance stopped walking toward her and put a cell phone to his ear. He began to pace and wave his arm in the air. As soon as he turned his back to her she decided to run. She glanced to her right and guessed it was about one hundred feet to cross the apartment building lot to the rusted chain link fence. On the other side of the fence were some houses and businesses. Surely there would be some place for her to hide over there.

She whispered to the 911 operator, "I'm going to run to a safer spot. Don't hang up!"

Sharon peeked around the side of the dumpster from her crouched position one last time as she slipped the phone into her blazer pocket. The man was still not facing her. She darted from behind the dumpster and began to run for her life toward the chain link fence. A large, low hanging branch of a walnut tree hung over the fence on her side. She jumped and grabbed the branch with both arms, swinging her legs up to hug the branch and pull herself into the cloud of green leaves. She climbed up two more branches and balanced in the crotch of the tree's main trunk and a large limb. Thank God she had been a tomboy when she was a child. It seemed she had spent most of her childhood up trees.

This would have been much easier in slacks than her skirt. Her thighs had been scraped by the bark and blood was running down her legs. Sharon felt like a frightened child peeking through the foliage for a glimpse of her enemy. She exhaled slowly to calm herself and pulled her phone from her pocket.

"Are you still there?"

"Yes. Where are you now?"

"Same address I gave you but now I'm in a walnut tree."

******

Nick and Jen met back at their car in the hospital parking lot. Jen tossed Nick the keys and slid into the passenger seat. "I got the plate I.D. on that white SUV in the corner. It's registered to Costellano Enterprises."

"Surprise, surprise." Nick glanced at his watch. It was nearly seven. Lacey would be at Legends by now sitting next to an empty seat. His. Nick's mind spun back to the problem at hand. "Judge White isn't going to give us a warrant to search this place unless we have it tied up with a bow. We need more." Nick held up the receiver for the bug he left in Tony's office. "Lucas is waiting for his men in the SUV to call and say we left before he has Sharon brought back here." Nick thought about the fate awaiting Sharon at the hospital. "I suppose we could leave, circle back and wait." Nick glanced toward the SUV. "I'm not in the mood to waste time. We have to find that ambulance."

Jen wanted to change the subject so Nick had more time to decide what he wanted to do. She trusted his instincts and right now she was out of fresh ideas.

Jen asked, "How did Mrs. Schultz take the news?"

"She's a tough lady. I think she's worried her whole family has been targeted. Rich and powerful people are paranoid for a reason. She's going home tonight to plan the funeral."

"Is she healthy enough to go home?"

Nick turned the ignition key. "I think every patient here would be safer at home."

Nick's tone sent a shiver down her spine. Their suspicions about the hospital were horrific. What if they were right?

Jen passed a granola bar to Nick and opened one for herself. "Do you think they have their own little organ farm here? How creepy is that?"

Jen's cell rang. After a minute she asked, "Where? How long ago?" a moment later she said thanks and hung up.

"Our BOLO on the ambulance paid off. 911 got a call from Sharon that she had escaped. The 911 operator entered her name into the system and got a hit on the BOLO I ordered. They just sent me an alert. She's on South Green Street!" Jen punched the address into the city map screen on their dash monitor.

Nick hit the light bar and siren. "Hold on."

******

The ambulance driver stood in the middle of the Happy Burger parking lot terrified. If he didn't find that girl Lucas would have him killed. She could be anywhere. He studied the few cars that were parked. They probably belonged to the employees or customers eating inside. He began running up to each, looking inside. He crouched down to see if maybe she was hiding between the vehicles. Nothing. He had no idea what to do next.

He was nearly hit by a car with four men that screeched into the Happy Burger parking lot. They slammed to a stop just feet from him and jumped from the car. Sharon watched through the leaves of the tree branch as four men began shouting and pushing the ambulance man. He started pointing all around and shrugging his shoulders. One of the men cold cocked the ambulance man sending him to the pavement. The four men each took a different direction and began searching.

Sharon realized they were looking for her. She frantically whispered into the phone, "There are more of them now! Four more men have shown up! Where are the cops?"

******

Sirus Corn pushed his overfilled cart down the alley to the back of the three box-like apartment buildings facing Green Street. He stopped at the glass door of the back entrance to Building A and studied his reflection. His clothing was clean and fit properly thanks to the Veterans Blessings box at the American Legion post. They offered free dinners on Mondays but Sirus always swept the floors of the meeting rooms before accepting a sandwich and a carton of milk to take with him. He didn't believe in handouts.

Four local merchants let him wash their store windows for cash each week. That money not only paid for his necessities but insulated him from having to beg. He would never beg. He smoothed his thinning grey hair in place and tried to straighten his stooped shoulders. He found it hard to believe that he was 72. Or was it 73? He glanced at his twisted arthritic fingers and sighed. Winter was going to be tough this year.

The dumpsters here were usually good for any number of still useful household goods. While the neighborhood was poor, it wasn't nearly as bad as those just three blocks down. He had spent far too long washing the barbershop windows this afternoon, but he wanted to do a good job. Now it was nearly dark. The gangs would soon be trolling the streets. His arms and legs ached from pushing his cart. He didn't have a choice; his whole world was stuffed within those rusted wires. He decided the dumpsters would be his last stop today. He had to get back to the safety of the tunnel community before dark.

He caught a flash of movement in his peripheral vision. A young woman was running across the parking lot with a look of terror on her face. She was in a blue skirt but pulled herself up onto the old walnut tree branch at the end of the lot. Sirus pushed his cart toward the dumpster and saw a group of agitated men arguing loudly in the Happy Burger parking lot. Suddenly the men broke off into different directions and began looking in the parked cars and heading closer to the apartment buildings. Sirus had lived on the streets long enough to recognize the posture and facial expressions of street thugs. Those men were looking for that girl.

Sirus turned and pushed his cart to rest in the shade of the large walnut branch at the end of the lot. He spoke out loud in an aging voice, "I'm not going to look up 'cause I know you be hidin'." Sirus pulled a small folding canvass chair from his cart and slowly lowered his bent frame to sit. "I see them hoodlums that're lookin' for ya. I'll do my best to keep 'em away, Missy."

Sharon was dumbstruck. Could this old homeless man really be here to help her? Her throat tightened and she said, "Thank you. The police are on their way."

Sirus answered without looking up, "That be good news."

He rustled in his cart for a small paper bag and began eating a sandwich. One of the men was quickly walking across the parking lot toward him. Sirus's eyes narrowed as he struggled to focus from such a distance. He saw the grip of a gun in the man's waistband.

Sharon held her breath. The 911 operator said the police were nearly there.

Suddenly Sirus leaped up and pushed one arm out in front of him. He had some kind of spray can in his hand. "You best just turn around and leave me be or I'll light up your ass right quick!"

The man stopped. "Easy does it old man. I just want to know if you saw a woman running around here."

Sirus started walking toward the man, his can of wasp spray still held at arm's length in front of him. "Blonde lady in a blue skirt?"

The man's eyes opened wide. "Yes! Where'd she go?"

Sirus smirked, "My memory works best when I'm happy." Sirus waved his can of wasp spray. "Money makes me happy."

The man cursed and reached in his pocket, "Here's a ten."

Sirus tilted his head, "Ten don't usually move me all the way to happy."

The man frowned and pressed his lips together. He pulled another ten from his roll and snarled, "Here's twenty. If you waste any more of my time I'm just gonna shoot ya."

Sirus relaxed his attack position. "Just lay that money down right where you be and start backin' up. I'll tell ya where she is once that money's in my hand."

Sharon was terrified. Good God the old man was going to sell her for twenty dollars!

Sirus picked up the money and pointed South. "Saw her about five minutes ago runnin' through the park. Looked scared as hell! Looked like she be headin' for the 'L'.

The man quickly pulled a cell phone from his pocket and started running South. Sirus watched as the other men headed South too. He slowly walked back to sit on his canvass chair. He dropped his can of wasp spray back in the cart and said, "You stay put another minute or so. Want to make sure them guys are all the way to the park."

Sharon exhaled and leaned her head back against the tree trunk. She whispered into the phone, "I'm still okay. Where are the police?"

# CHAPTER 18

Monday, 6 p.m., 107th precinct

Wayne had just spent two hours in an interrogation room with a pair of Internal Affairs officers. Now, Agent Phillips of the FBI plopped in the chair across from his desk.

Wayne frowned. "It's six o'clock. Go home." He had already put in a ten-hour day with no end in sight. "I suppose you want to waste my time too?"

Phillips smiled, "I'm looking for Nick. Is he expected back here any time soon?"

"Not if he's smart." Wayne leaned back in his chair. "Officer-involved shooting this afternoon. He'll be glued to a desk until I.A. is done with him."

Phillips had spent the last few hours researching Dr. Derrick Sanford because of a tip received by the FBI Nick wouldn't come back to the precinct until he had to. He was stuck with Wayne. "So who did he shoot?"

"According to the incident report emailed to the Chief, two cars with four shooters attacked him at a muffler shop while he was making an arrest." Wayne stuck a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and continued, "Apparently, they pulled in the parking lot and leveled AK-47's at him and his prisoner. Nick killed two shooters and one driver at the muffler shop. Nick had his perp and the other driver brought here. Two associates of Nick's perp were arrested by Jen and also brought here to holding." Wayne leaned forward. "Then it got interesting. Some fella in a suit walks in here claiming to be the lawyer for Nick's prisoner and his associates, goes back into holding and shoots them. Dead. Only dude left in holding is the car driver. I shot the pretend lawyer as he was leaving. How's your day goin'?"

Agent Phillips said, "Well, that explains the improved security downstairs. They're actually checking for weapons. It also explains the podiums on the stairs out front."

Wayne frowned. "Shit. We've got press?"

"As far as the eye can see." Phillips leaned back in his chair. "It sounds like your Chief gets to explain how four people can be shot dead _inside_ the precinct building." Phillips pushed his chair back upright. "We got a tip about a hypnotizing software program developed by Sanford Enterprises. This puts new creds on this morning's confessors. Particularly since the mayor has already been named a target."

Wayne turned to his computer monitor and clicked on a photo. "Remember I told you the video was scrambled? I found this one frame on the art gallery video. Pretty good face shot of the guy that bought that painting and then sent it here." Wayne turned the monitor to face Phillips. "Anyone you know?"

Phillips' jaw set as he leaned forward for a closer look. "Damn." Phillips kept staring at the image. "Make a copy of this for me." He tossed a flash drive to Wayne.

Wayne put the flash drive in his computer, hit copy, waited for it to finish and tossed the drive back to Phillips. "Well? You going to tell me who this is?"

"J.T. Barrimore, New York Family." Phillips slipped the flash dive into his pocket. J.T. Barrimore having control of a software program that could make people do anything he wanted was more than a threat. Their tipster was dead on. Phillips felt an ominous curtain of dread envelop him. This case just became very real, and very dangerous.

Phillips said, "We call this guy 'The Secret Keeper'. He's bad news."

Wayne tapped his pen on his desk pad. "Why would he send that painting to Nick? Why scratch on Nick's door?"

"I don't know. He and Nick have some history." Phillips wondered how deep this was going to get. Who tipped the FBI? Why? How did Dr. Sanford ever hook up with J.T. Barrimore? How was Nick involved?

Wayne broke the silence. "This can't be good for Nick."

"It's not."

******

Kevin and Darla were nearly to Dr. Sanford's office.

Darla glanced over to him. "How do we get Dr. Sanford to admit he's hypnotizing people?"

Kevin turned into the parking garage for Sanford's office. "I doubt if we can. I'm just hoping we'll pick up on something that helps the cops figure out the guy is a nut case." Kevin held out what looked like a flash drive. "This is a tape recorder. I'm going to leave it in the office somewhere and try to get it back later." Kevin slid the button to 'on' to start the recorder, and slipped it back into his pocket. "This will record for about three hours. Maybe he'll say something the cops can use."

Darla grinned. "You're going all James Bond on this ain't ya? I like it."

A large brass plaque in the parking garage listed Sanford Enterprises as being on the third floor, Suite 301. In the elevator Kevin noticed Darla examining Cynthia's camera with a puzzled expression.

"You don't have a clue how to work that, do you?"

"Nope." Darla squinted to read the small letters next to all of the dials.

"Well, if you plan on faking it, remember to take the lens cap off." Kevin reached over and tapped it.

"Got it."

Darla held it away from her and attempted to take a selfie. A blinding flash barely preceded the opening of the elevator door.

Kevin moaned, "Oh brother."

They stepped out of the elevator and stood in a wide hall with gleaming white floors. A brass wall plaque arrow for Suite 301 pointed to the left. They walked to the end of the hall where another arrow pointed to the right for Suite 301. A double glass door engraved 'Sanford Enterprises' sat squarely at the end of the short hall.

Kevin held the door open for Darla and whispered, "Let me do the talking."

Darla frowned.

A soft chime was followed by a mechanical voice. "Please stop. You will be greeted momentarily." A grid of red laser lights crisscrossed the hall directly ahead of them.

Kevin cleared his throat. Darla raised her camera and flashed a picture.

Jason Little appeared from around the corner and stood on the far side of the lasers. "Can I help you?"

Kevin held up his press badge. "I'm here to interview Dr. Sanford for a science article for the Chicago Tribune."

Jason glanced at Darla's camera. "You can't bring a camera into this office. Dr. Sanford isn't here." Jason added, "Do you have an appointment?"

Kevin lied. "Yes." He glanced at his watch. "Our appointment is for 6:30 so we're a little early."

Jason couldn't imagine why Derrick would have agreed to a newspaper interview. Practically everything they did was illegal. "What's this interview about?"

Kevin glanced at the notes he had taken when Peter had talked about Sanford Enterprises applying to the Chicago Board of Trade's Security Division to take the company public.

Kevin flipped a page in his notebook and then looked up. "Dr. Sanford was going to explain why he withdrew the application to take the company public. Something to do with a Mandarin program."

Jason couldn't believe his ears. Derrick had no right to take the company public and offer the Mandarin program to shareholders without his permission. He was half owner of the Mandarin program. Jason definitely wanted to hear more from Kevin.

Jason reached around the corner of the wall and disarmed the security lasers. "You can wait in here until Der...Dr. Sanford returns."

Kevin and Darla followed Jason into a tidy waiting area flanked by two glassed in offices. Jason's desk sat like a sentry in the middle of the room blocking access to the doors beyond. Jason motioned for Kevin and Darla to take seats across from his desk.

Kevin heard the faint sound of music coming from Jason's desk. The Eagle's song 'Desperado' escaped the mass of computer equipment and drifted in the air like falling leaves in slow motion.

Jason sat in his chair and the music abruptly stopped. "What makes you think that Dr. Sanford wanted to take the company public?"

Jason was getting angrier by the minute. Not only had Derrick used the Mandarin program as a host for his 'parasite' program without getting Jason's permission, but evidently he had also entertained the idea of going public. It didn't make sense. The money they were making from the Mandarin program was substantial but everything has a shelf life. Eventually the profits would level off. After all, there were only so many people that wanted to learn Mandarin.

Kevin answered, "It's public record. He withdrew the application in December. I believe he cited client reluctance as the reason."

Jason frowned. "That doesn't even make sense." Jason retrieved a cell phone from his pocket and tapped it. He turned from his desk and walked toward the window. Kevin quickly reached in his pocket, cupped the flash drive in his hand and pushed it to rest behind the monitor on Jason's desk.

Darla's eyes darted between Jason and Kevin anticipating Kevin getting caught.

Jason turned back to face them. He slipped the phone into his pocket. "Dr. Sanford isn't answering his phone. I left him a message you were here."

Jason began to feel his anger at Derrick solidify. What else had Derrick done that he didn't know about? "You know that I am one of the developers of our most successful program?"

Kevin smiled. "Maybe I can start the interview with you then?"

Jason's eyes looked past Kevin and Darla and opened wide in horror. A shrieking siren beep filled the air with ear piercing pulses. Kevin and Darla twisted in their seats to look behind them. Four men in black suits burst into the room with guns drawn. They quickly flanked the desk and assumed the stance to fire their weapons.

One man's booming voice shouted, "FBI, hands in the air."

Kevin, Darla and Jason all thrust their palms toward the ceiling.

Darla slowly turned her head to face Kevin and mumbled, "Plan B, Mr. Bond?"

******

J.T. leaned back in the leather seat in his private booth at the club. It had been an eventful day. He pressed a buzzer and ordered his second drink as he counted his weekly cut from the club. He listened on his cell phone as Matt explained that a video had been sent to Gill Mackey to shoot Dr. Derrick Sanford.

J.T. wanted some assurances that Gill would be successful. "Why did you choose him?"

Matt could hardly contain his enthusiasm. "This guy is perfect! He's a lawyer. I love stickin' it to lawyers. He's a short shit with a Napoleon complex and is learning Mandarin to enhance his political resume. I did a lot of background on this guy...not a soul on this earth who likes him."

J.T. grinned as he listened to Matt. "Has he watched the video?"

"He did. I'm tracing his calls and tracking his phone now. He called Dr. Sanford's office and found out he was at Sunrise Hospital helping his daughter settle in. He told Sanford's office that he was Sanford's attorney and had an urgent message. His phone put him at the hospital about fifteen minutes ago." Matt chuckled, "We should hear any minute that Sanford has been shot."

******

Gill Mackey was on a mission. He was focused on finding Heather Sanford's room before Dr. Derrick Sanford had a chance to leave. For a brief moment in the elevator to the second floor he felt confused. Some woman in scrubs smiled at him and said something. Her voice sounded as if she was speaking under water. He didn't respond. She was a distraction. Obviously planted to keep him from his mission. She wasn't part of his plan.

He pressed his right palm against his side where his jacket hid the pistol in his waistband. He was a professional. The best. He would do his job and then wait for his next order. Simple. The elevator door opened to a bustling floor of hospital employees and a busy nurse's station. Signs on the hall walls pointed him to room 239. He walked quickly down the hall avoiding all eye contact and stopped at Heather's door.

There sat Dr. Derrick Sanford talking to a young woman he assumed was Heather and a nurse that was adjusting medical equipment next to the patient bed. Heather was placing some folded clothes into a narrow closet. Dr. Sanford stopped talking to her and stared at Gill.

The nurse turned and looked at Gill. "Can I help you?"

Gill gave her a quick glance and then focused his gaze back on Derrick.

Derrick had a puzzled expression on his face as he watched Gill pull a pistol from his waistband.

Heather saw a look of terror wash over the nurse's face.

Derrick stood, his voice cracked. "What are you doing?"

Heather turned around, saw Gill, and stepped in front of Derrick.

The gun went off. Heather grabbed at her chest.

The nurse screamed.

Gill stood motionless., He dropped the pistol and began blinking. His ears were ringing and the room began to spin. He fainted.

Derrick sobbed, "No!" as he grabbed Heather's shoulders and rolled her over to face him. He pulled her lifeless body to his chest and wailed.

# CHAPTER 19

Sirus slowly rose from his canvas chair and took a few steps away from his cart, staring at the Happy Burger parking lot.

Sharon pleaded, "Don't leave!"

Sirus turned and shuffled back to the tree branch and looked up. "You can come down now, Missy. I was just checkin' that the coast is clear. There be cop cars at the burger joint."

Sharon scrambled down the branches. Sirus helped steady her for her final drop to the pavement. She looked at Sirus' leathered face with the wide grin and gave him a bear hug.

"You saved me. How can I ever thank you?"

Sirus pointed to the burger place. "We ain't got you saved yet. Let's go get them cops."

******

Nick and Jen pulled into the Happy Burger parking lot the same time a patrol unit did. Nick parked behind the ambulance in the lot and signaled patrol to stay back. He pulled his service pistol and walked up to the driver's door. Jen walked around the side and came up to the passenger door. Inside a man lay slumped against the door. A hypodermic needle in his neck was precariously rising and falling with each breath.

Nick climbed into the ambulance. His eyes scanned the interior of the driver's cabin. It was surprisingly void of personal items. He pocketed the ambulance keys and then moved to the back. The gurney had definitely been occupied recently. Small droplets of blood stained the cheap liner sheet. The interior of the ambulance was dated and void of first aid materials. It obviously had been retired from active use some time ago.

Jen opened the back door of the ambulance. "The driver is around here somewhere."

Nick hopped out the back. He turned to the two patrol officers. "Stay with this guy and keep an eye open for his partner."

Nick called the 911 dispatch center and was patched through to the operator talking to Sharon.

"Where is she?"

The 911 operator answered, "She's at the back of an apartment complex next to the Happy Burger parking lot. There's a large walnut tree at the fence line with an elderly man guarding her. She's in the tree."

Nick turned to face the apartment complex and saw an old man quickly pushing an overstuffed shopping cart with a woman jogging next to him. They were heading towards the Happy Burger lot.

Nick pointed, "There she is." He sprinted toward the couple with Jen at his heels.

Nick's eyes scanned the area for the ambulance driver as he ran. He knew he was near.

Nick stopped when he reached Sharon. At first glance she looked disheveled but in good health, "Sharon Perez?"

Sharron nodded her head and answered, "Yes. Are you the police?"

Jen answered, "Chicago P.D., are you okay?"

Sharon turned her head abruptly, her eyes darting in several directions. "Yes, but there are men looking for me! They're all over the place!" Sharon's eyes were intense and focused on Nick. "I was kidnapped this morning and taken to some kind of medical place. They doped me but it has worn off."

Sirus looked at Nick. "I told 'em she went to the park. Four of 'em came in that blue Chevy parked over there at the burger joint." Sirus pointed his long, boney finger toward the Happy Burger lot. "Another one came from that ambulance."

Nick glanced to the parking lot and saw the Chevy. If they could get Sharon and the patrol officers out of there quick enough, they might be able to catch the kidnappers.

Nick looked at Jen and said, "She has to be checked out. Let's have patrol take her to the hospital and stay with her until we get there. If we can clear the scene these guys might come back. Maybe we'll get lucky."

Jen spoke to Sharon, "Can you run? We want to get you out of here fast."

"I can run."

Nick watched as Jen sent the patrol unit away with Sharon and took a position at the back of the burger building in a dark corner.

Nick patted Sirus's shoulder. "Good job. Might be a good idea to get out of here."

Sirus lowered his head in a sign of determination and gave his cart a shove. "I'm already gone."

******

Sal Cutler stopped his men on their way back to get their vehicles. The search of the park had produced nothing. They either missed her or the old man lied. Now, a block away, he had a narrow sight line between buildings and had seen a patrol car leaving the Happy Burger lot. It might be nothing. It might be a trap. The ambulance driver was walking up behind them, cursing under his breath.

Sal turned around to face him. "Look, get that ambulance with your buddy in it out of here and we'll keep on looking. You drive around a few blocks north...maybe she went that way."

The ambulance driver nodded and quickened his pace toward the Happy Burger lot.

Sal told his guys he suspected a trap and instructed them to take cover. He maneuvered his way toward Happy Burger careful to hide behind cover every thirty feet or so. He made his way to the corner of building C and crouched behind the row of dumpsters. Between the dumpsters he had a good view of the Happy Burger lot and the back of the ambulance. He slowly glanced around but didn't see anything suspicious. Maybe the patrol car had just gone through the drive through window. He saw the ambulance driver reach for the driver's door and a woman rush up behind him. She slammed him against the door, raised a gun to his temple with one hand and pulled cuffs from her waistband with the other.

Cop. They had the ambulance. Sal twisted his head to slowly scan the area again. There were no signs of anyone looking for the girl. They already had her; the girl had been in the patrol car.

Sal remembered Lucas' order. Dead or alive. He had to find out what was going on. He took out his cell phone and dialed his connection at the Chicago P.D. "This is Sal Cutler. Find out which patrol just took a call at Happy Burger on Green Street. Find out what happened, I'll hold."

Sal's mind raced. He couldn't go back to his car, the woman cop would be calling for backup and the entire block would be crawling with cops in minutes. His connection at the Chicago P.D. came back on the line, "Patrol is taking a civilian to Memorial Emergency. That's all I could find out."

"You're sure...Memorial emergency? Man or woman?"

"Of course I'm sure. Just a minute." A few moments later he answered, "Woman."

"Thanks." Sal glanced around. Nick was standing right behind him. Sal slowly raised his hands over his head.

Nick said, "Get up slowly and keep your hands in the air." Nick took Sal's phone from his hand and reached down and pulled the gun from Sal's waistband. "You a felon, Sal? Shouldn't have this gun."

Sal's mind froze. How long had this cop been behind him? What did he hear?

Nick snapped cuffs on Sal and nudged him toward the Happy Burger lot by prodding him forward with the pistol in his back.

Jen had the driver of the ambulance cuffed and sitting on the curb. The other ambulance guy was still passed out. Nick had Sal sit on the curb next to the ambulance driver.

Jen asked, "We need to call transport."

"Yeah. We'll need an ambulance and a guard for the one with a needle in his neck. These other two can go to the precinct and wait for us."

Jen glanced at Sal and the driver on the curb and smiled, "Do you think lock up has been cleaned out yet?"

Nick smiled back. "I hope so." He turned to Sal. "Lucas killed three of his guys this afternoon in our lockup. Hope you two have better luck."

Sal and the ambulance driver looked at each other.

Nick tapped Sal's phone. "You got Lucas' number in your contact list by any chance?"

Sal pressed his lips together tightly.

"Never mind, I found it." Nick tapped the number next to Lucas' name. "This is Sal; I have the girl."

Sal's eyes opened wide. Nick had just signed his death certificate.

Lucas answered, "Good. Take her to Sunrise. Use the East garage. The code for the elevator is 4270. I'll call Tony."

Nick ended the call and smiled at Jen. "Lucas wants her taken to Sunrise." He looked at Sal and said, "Your next meeting with Lucas might be awkward."

Nick took the cell phone of the ambulance driver and found Lucas' number there as well. He wouldn't be denied a warrant now. He used his own phone and called the D.A.'s office.

"This is Nick Stryker. I want a search warrant for Sunrise Hospital. I just got direct orders to take a kidnap victim there."

The assistant D.A. answered, "We just issued a warrant for there. Detective Graham from the 106th precinct. Seems they had a homicide there half an hour ago."

Nick cringed. He wondered if Lucas had killed Tony. "I want my own warrant. Same as my earlier request for items related to kidnapping Sharon Perez. Do we have the name of the homicide victim?"

"Heather Sanford."

******

Derrick Sanford listened in shock as Gill Mackey sputtered apologies through his sobs. He told the responding police officer that he didn't know why he shot Heather. That he was a lawyer, a good person. A thought slammed into Derrick's brain as suddenly as if someone had slapped him.

Derrick turned to face Gill and asked in Mandarin, "Why did you shoot my daughter?"

Gill answered in Mandarin, "I don't know."

The patrol officer frowned at Derrick. "What did you say to him?"

Gill shouted, "He asked me why I shot his daughter and I told him I don't know. It's the truth, damn it! What the hell! I'm sorry!" Gill could hardly stand he was so shaken. "This is crazy! I don't even know where I am!"

Derrick looked at the officer, "I need fresh air, excuse me."

The officer moved away from the door so Derrick could leave the room. "I need to get a statement from you, Dr. Sanford. Please stay nearby."

Derrick took one last glance at Heather lying in a growing pool of blood. He felt numb. No one was allowed to touch her. The coroner was on his way. The hall outside of Heather's room was packed with medical staff and police. The world was crashing in on him.

A black cavity filled his chest where his heart had been. His mind churned a white hot blaze of hate that grew with each breath he took. A warping pressure pounded in his ears distorting the voices and sounds around him. Gill Mackey was a name he knew well; he was one of Derrick's subjects.

It was so obvious now. He should have anticipated that J.T. would cover up the fact he had purchased the program. J.T. meant for Gill to kill him. Instead, he had killed his beautiful Heather. The elevator door shut enclosing him in a vacuum of silence. He had a single mission. Revenge on J.T. Barrimore.

******

Tony had just hung up from talking to Lucas. Thank God they had the girl back. He glanced at his watch. Two glasses of vodka had helped him push the horrors of the day to the back of his mind. He saw that he had a few messages flashing on his office phone. He must have dozed off. The messages could wait until he had Sharon secured and drugged again. He decided to head for the basement and make ready for her arrival.

An orderly rapped quickly on the door as he burst in. "Mr. Scalla? There has been a shooting in room 239! Heather Sanford is dead!" His eyes were opened wide and his chest heaved from running. "The police want to talk to you."

Tony couldn't believe what he was hearing. "The police are here? When did this happen? Who shot her?"

The orderly shook his head and paced in the doorway opening. "It just happened. We thought you had left for the evening; you didn't answer your phone. The man who shot her is still here, the police have him. I think he's a lawyer."

Tony sat heavily into his chair. "Tell the police I'll be there in a minute."

The orderly left, closing the door behind him.

Tony rested his elbows on his desktop and began rubbing his temples. What the hell? A lawyer killed Heather Sanford? Here? Why? The police would be crawling all over the hospital and Lucas was having Sharon Perez delivered in the middle of it all. Lucas had to be warned.

He tapped the number for Lucas on his cell and listened as it went directly to voice messaging. Tony paced his office for a few minutes and tried Lucas again. Nothing. Lucas had turned off his phone. Now what? Did he race to the basement or upstairs to room 239?

******

Lucas stood to clap for Buddy Guy and his band as his date slipped her hand across the table and turned off his phone. She was sick of him taking calls every fifteen minutes. He was supposed to be paying attention to her.

Lucas sat down, lifted her hand and twisted her wrist tightly. She gasped and a look of terror filled her face. He leaned in and snarled into her ear. "Don't ever touch my phone again!" Then he kissed her temple and released her hand. He turned his phone back on and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Lucas signaled one of his men over.

"Take her home."

# CHAPTER 20

7 p.m. Monday, 107th precinct

Nick and Jen raced back towards Sunrise Hospital, sirens blaring. Jen drove so Nick could make some calls. They both worried every passing moment gave Tony a chance to destroy evidence. Nick pulled his cell phone from his pocket and tapped the number for Wayne.

"Are you still at the precinct?"

"Yeah. Sitting here with your FBI buddy, Phillips. He has some shitty news for you."

Nick groaned, "Let me bring you up to speed on this organ case first. We're sending you a couple of new ones for lockup."

"Oh, goody. Are you heading here, too?"

"Not yet. Jen and I have a couple of stops first." Nick told him about finding Sharon and arresting the ambulance guys and Sal.

Wayne chuckled. An update call from Nick was like identifying a mountain range by only counting the peaks. "I can't wait to see the faces of the I.A. guys when they finally corner you. I have an update on your three confessors from this morning. It seems a Dr. Derrick Sanford developed a 'Learn to speak Mandarin' program that they all took. What they didn't know was that they were being hypnotized by this program to do all kinds of crazy shit."

"Did you say Dr. Sanford? Does he have a daughter named Heather?"

"Let me check my notes...there is a daughter...yep, name's Heather. I pulled up a press interview he did a couple of years ago and she was in the picture with him. How did you know?"

"She was murdered at Sunrise Hospital less than an hour ago. The 106th got it."

Wayne cursed. "You better tell Phillips. He's got people looking for Sanford."

Nick turned to Jen, "Ever get that feeling you're about to watch two trains collide?"

Jen's eyebrows went up as she skillfully steered through traffic. "There's a second train?" At some point tonight she was going to have to call her husband, John, and tell him not to wait dinner. They still had to interview Sharon and get her somewhere safe, then interview the ambulance guys and Sal. Then she remembered one of the drivers from the Muffler shop shootout was in holding. She learned Nick's style years ago. He chased each lead with a laser focus and sorted out the debris later.

Nick knew he wouldn't get back to the precinct for some time. "Get extra guards for these guys in lockup. They have the same boss as the ones that were shot earlier. I'm just going to let them stew for a few hours."

Wayne said, "No problem. Look, based on what Phillips is going to tell you I think I'm going to hang around. You and Jen might need an extra gun."

"That's an attention-getting statement."

Wayne added, "Phillips says you're in the wrong crosshairs."

"Great. Can you put Phillips on?"

Agent Phillips took Wayne's phone. "Stryker? Do you remember J.T. Barrimore?"

******

Kevin and Darla took the elevator back to the parking garage in Dr. Sanford's building in silence. The last hour had been more than a little frightening under the interrogation of the FBI agents. Kevin's training as a reporter quickly confirmed to him that Jason was not an innocent bystander. Especially when the FBI found the three flash drives in his pocket.

Darla shifted the camera strap on her shoulder and sighed, "At least I remembered Agent Phillips' name from this morning. You could say I saved us from being arrested." She glanced quickly at Kevin's frown.

"You saved us? Was it when you told the FBI we were illegally 'spying' on Dr. Sanford or when you told them my brother and your friends had confessed to murder?" Kevin took a deep breath as the parking garage elevator opened for their floor. "Oh, wait! Maybe the fact that you had two guns in your purse is what convinced them we were innocent!"

Darla shrugged, "Like I said, good thing they called Agent Phillips. Dolly's going to be mad they kept the guns."

Kevin couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Did you see that agent's face when you said the guns were okay, they were properly registered...just not to you?"

"At least I didn't leave a hidden recorder going."

They reached the car and Kevin let out a big sigh. He had a picture of Derrick taped to the dash. "I guess we don't need this anymore..."

Darla interrupted him. "Look at that man walking to the elevator. It's him!"

"Who?"

"Sanford!"

Kevin glanced first at the picture and then back to the man. "Holy shit. You're right."

Darla had her hand on the door handle. "We should stop him. Once the FBI has him we won't be able to ask him any questions."

Sanford was nearly to the elevator. Kevin didn't see the benefit of stopping Sanford. He wasn't going to talk to them and looked to be in a hurry. Just then Kevin felt a rush of fresh air enter the car and saw Darla running toward Sanford screaming.

"Dr. Sanford, freeze! FBI!"

Sanford stopped dead in his tracks and slowly turned to face Darla. He had a frenzied look on his face.

Darla shrugged. "Well, _I'm_ not FBI but they're waiting for you in your office. I have some questions for you about your Mandarin program..."

Sanford started walking toward Darla. When he got within a few feet of her he lunged and pushed her to the pavement. Kevin watched through his windshield in horror as Sanford ran to his S.U.V., pulled out of his parking space and floored the vehicle toward Darla. She saw the S.U.V. coming at her and rolled off to the side. Sanford kept going.

Kevin leaped from the car and ran to Darla's side. "Are you okay? What the hell were you thinking? What did you say to him?"

Darla grabbed Kevin's hands for a boost up and started running for the car. "Come on! We're gonna catch that wacko!"

Kevin ran after her, started his car and began their chase as Darla pounded on his car's dash.

"Did you see that? He almost ran me over!" Darla kept thumping the dash with her palms. "He's got that crazy look in his eyes, you know? The kind they have in mug shots...all buggy and weird."

Kevin was getting a headache. "Can you stop hitting the dash? It isn't making us go any faster."

Darla exhaled, "I noticed. What kind of reporter drives a four-cylinder Ford with knitting baskets in the back seat? I thought you guys were ambulance chasers."

Kevin struggled to keep Sanford's S.U.V. in his sight. "This is my Grandma's car, remember? Mine got shot up this afternoon." Chasing Sanford made Kevin think about Peter. If the FBI was after Sanford, Peter may be in more danger than he thought. "What's our plan if we catch Sanford?"

Darla tapped her index finger on her chin. "I don't know. I guess we keep him cornered and call the FBI or something. You're the reporter...we get a story."

Darla mentioning 'getting a story' made Kevin remember that Jack had ordered him to do a story on being shot and also on the shooting at the 107th precinct. He moaned at the thought of the tongue lashing Jack would have waiting for him. Kevin's mind suddenly flipped to Sharon. Surely Stryker had some kind of news by now.

******

Nick's conversation with Phillips had been troubling. If J.T. Barrimore was involved in the hypnotic software case, it certainly amped up the stakes. J.T.'s company provided security and sophisticated intelligence data for the international crime Family. Both the FBI and the C.I.A. were aware of J.T.'s business but had failed to prove anything against him. It was foolish for J.T. to tease Nick with the painting; but J.T. was no fool. Something else was going on.

Nick glanced over to Jen, he knew she was waiting for an update.

"Do you remember last year when I got sucked into that science case between the FBI and the C.I.A.?"

Jen slowly answered, "Yes."

"There is an International Family mobster who was in the middle of that. He made a deal with the C.I.A. in exchange for anonymity. His name is J.T. Barrimore. Bad dude." Nick paused. "Wayne found a frame on the gallery video that showed the purchaser of Cynthia's painting. It was J.T."

Jen asked, "He's the one that sent the painting to you? Why?"

Nick answered, "Good question. Phillips says they have a tip that J.T. purchased this hypnotizing program from Dr. Sanford."

"Sanford? The same Sanford whose daughter just got shot?"

"Yep. The FBI wants Sanford. J.T. Barrimore is not the kind of guy who should have that program." Nick spoke his thoughts out loud. "Sanford needed a lot of money for his daughter's surgery tomorrow. Selling that program may have been the cash cow. These two cases are connected by Sanford."

"So this hypnotizing program is the second train?"

"Seems to be where this is going. Havin' fun yet?"

Nick's cell rang with a message from Lacey, his fiancé. He glanced at the screen and smiled. She had written:

I'm having a great time. REALLY miss you. LOVE you. Stay safe. Sending pic so you can see what you're missing.

Nick tapped on the attachment and frowned. Lacey's selfie showed Lucas Costellano with a woman sitting at a table directly behind her.

Jen pulled their car up to the east garage entry to Sunrise Hospital, put it in park and unbuckled her seat belt. The entrance to the hospital was swarmed with police vehicles. The coroner's van sat in the midst of the chaos.

Jen turned to Nick. "Heather Sanford got shot on the second floor and we're heading for the basement. This is a very bad day for Dr. Anthony Scalla."

"He's not the only one that's having a bad day."

Nick held up his phone. "You want the good news or the bad news?"

Jen said, "Good news."

Nick grinned, "Lacey still loves me. She sent me a selfie from Legends. She's watching Buddy Guy."

Nick held the phone out for Jen to see. "Now the bad news. Look who's sitting behind her."

******

Derrick gripped his steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. He felt as if he was a character in his own horrific nightmare. Images filled his mind of Heather being shot and Gill Mackey pointing his pistol at them. The look on Gill's face was like a knife to Derrick's heart. He knew. He recognized Gill's face from his program bio. Gill had been programed to shoot Derrick. The only person that could have done that was J.T. Barrimore.

He couldn't go back to his office; the FBI were there. Why? It had to be about his program. He didn't care anymore, Heather was gone. He had to find Barrimore. All he could think of was the nightclub. Maybe he was there. Then what? He had no gun, no killing skills...he had a car. He'd wait for J.T. to leave the nightclub and run him down...over and over...as many times as it took. Or he'd follow him to his home, barricade the doors and set it on fire. Anything, anything that would make J.T. suffer.

Cars blasted their horns at him and screeched their tires to let him pass. He willed himself to pay attention. He needed to live long enough to watch J.T. die.

******

Kevin was leaning forward against his steering wheel. The old Ford struggled to maintain enough speed to keep up with Sanford. Darla gripped the dash and the shoulder strap next to her. She yelled to be heard over the screaming motor. "I don't know whether to worry we're goin' to crash or that the engine's goin' to explode."

Kevin saw Derrick's car turn off to the right up ahead. "Where are you going old man?"

Darla held her breath as the gap closed between their car and the car in front of them. "Look out! They're turning!"

Kevin checked his mirrors, yanked the steering wheel to the left lane and immediately back to the right after they passed the turning car. Within yards he yanked the steering wheel to the right again where Derrick had turned. They took the corner too wide and too fast. Kevin worried the little car was going to roll over.

Darla screamed, "I see him! He turned left at the light."

Kevin's jaw set and his lips pursed. "He better land somewhere soon, we're almost out of gas."

They turned left at the light and couldn't see the S.U.V. anywhere. Kevin slowed the car way down. "He must have pulled off at one of these businesses."

Darla whipped her head to the right. "Turn around. I bet I know where he went."

Kevin made an illegal U-turn and glanced at her. Darla pointed to a neon sign of a cocktail waitress holding a martini glass. Kevin frowned. "You really think he was in that kind of hurry to come here?"

Darla shrugged, "Call it a hunch. All we gotta do is drive slow through the parking lot. What can we lose? We've already lost him."

A tall row of finely manicured hedges lined the street and shielded the parking lot from street view. Kevin was shocked at the number of cars in the parking lot. This was a thriving business. The brick and brass building was modern and well maintained. If the sign had read 'Fine Dining' he would have believed it. "This sure doesn't look like a strip joint."

Darla's eyes scanned a group of men entering the building. "Those dudes are all wearing suits. Look, there's even a valet!"

Kevin's glance followed Darla's pointing finger toward the glass front doors. A muscular man stood like a statue with his hands folded at his waist. "Looks more like a bouncer to me."

Darla pointed to a row of cars on the far left. "Isn't that Sanford over there? Just sittin' in that S.U.V. staring at the door."

Kevin squinted, "I think you're right."

The parking lot lights snapped on creating rows of amber orbs above the cars. Dusk was surrendering to the shadows of night.

Darla looked at her watch. "It's almost eight o'clock! He best do something soon, I'm starving. Think Granny has any food in this car?" Darla reached to the back seat and began ruffling through the stacks of clothing and craft bags.

Kevin kept his eyes on Sanford's S.U.V. as he parked directly across the lot from him. His mind swarmed with everything he needed to do, yet here he sat in a strip club parking lot. Sanders didn't look like he was going anywhere fast. He was just glaring at the front entrance.

Kevin said, "Maybe he's meeting someone?"

"If we're gonna just sit here, I'm gonna find us some food. Gotta be a candy bar or somethin'."

Darla squealed, "Yeah, Granny! Got a whole box of Twinkies back here and some bottled water. I think it's her survival kit for winter storms. Got some battery operated socks and gloves too."

Kevin's stomach growled. "What's the expiration date on the Twinkies?"

"Everybody knows Twinkies don't expire!"

******

Inside the night club J.T. answered a call from his security manager. "A couple of cars in the lot are acting odd. Check out camera's two and five."

J.T. tapped the app for his security cameras and watched a couple in an old Ford eating. He moved to camera 5 to a man in an S.U.V. just staring at the nightclub entrance. J.T. adjusted the camera to zoom in on the image of the man's face. It was Derrick Sanford. J.T. looked at his watch. Obviously, Sanford hadn't been killed by Gill Mackey. Something had gone wrong.

J.T. logged into the Chicago Police Central Control call log. There was a homicide call for Sunrise Hospital 45 minutes ago. Victim, Heather Sanford. J.T. switched back to camera two, the couple was still eating and showed little interest in the nightclub. Camera five showed Derrick still staring at the entrance.

J. T. studied Derrick's face. He was agitated, crying. He knew his daughter had been killed. He may have figured out that J.T. had ordered the shooting using a program subject. In that case, he was here for revenge.

J.T. spoke into his phone to his security manager. "The man in the white S.U.V. needs to disappear. Get rid of the S.U.V., too." He watched his camera feed as three of his men rushed Derrick's S.U.V. and held him at gunpoint.

One man had Derrick at gunpoint and had him get out of the S.U.V. The man with the gun and Derrick both got into the back seat. Another man took over as the driver. The third man followed Derrick's S.U.V. out of the parking lot in another car.

J.T. deleted the last ten minutes' camera feed on camera five. Derrick Sanford was the only link between him and the program. Sanford was going to die tonight but not on J.T.'s property.

******

Kevin shouted, "Holy shit! What's happening?"

Darla snapped her seatbelt back on and cinched it. "Seems the FBI ain't the only folks who want Sanford."

Kevin waited until Sanford's S.U.V. and the car following had entered the traffic on the main road before he pulled from their parking spot.

"Try to write down that car's license number when I catch up."

Darla dug in her purse for paper and pen. She watched through the windshield as the S.U.V. got farther ahead of them. Her chin dropped and she turned to face Kevin. "I could run faster than this! Just how do you expect me to ever read their plates?"

They hadn't driven more than four blocks when their car's engine started to sputter.

Kevin slapped the steering wheel. "Well, that's it, we're done. Sanford is on his own."

He eased to the far right lane and pulled into a gas station as the little Ford glided to a silent stop in front of the pump.

Darla said, "This here is a sign from the Heavens. We're not meant to follow that trouble." She opened another Twinkie and took a bite. "I'll call that FBI dude."

Darla handed Kevin Agent Phillips' card. "On second thought, you'd better call. Try to leave out the part about me warning Sanford the FBI was in his office."

# CHAPTER 21

A patrol officer waited at the east garage entrance of Sunrise Hospital to hand Nick his search warrant. Nick thanked him and handed the warrant to Jen. "See if it is signed by Judge White."

Jen smiled and flipped to the last page. "Yep." She tucked the folded document into her jacket. "The pressure just went up. If Sharon hadn't escaped, we wouldn't have this."

Nick glanced at his notebook for the code Lucas had given Sal for the garage and elevator at Sunrise. Inside the garage a steel gurney was pushed against the far wall. Every surface gleamed and reflected the bright lights from the ceiling. He entered 4270 on the touch pad outside the elevator. The large steel elevator doors opened with a hydraulic hiss and Jen and Nick stepped in.

Nick could feel his adrenaline pumping. The rage had been building in his heart since the discovery of the Schultz family bodies at the brewery this morning. He knew they would not have made it this far in their investigation had it not been for a series of lucky breaks. He prayed that they continued just a little bit longer.

Nick looked at Jen. "The GPS history showed that Sharon was here this morning, there has to be some kind of proof."

Jen asked, "What restrictions are on our search warrant?"

Nick pushed the down arrow button. "None. After I told the Assistant D.A. what we had on this place, she gave us unlimited authority and wished us luck. Crime techs are on their way to swab this whole hospital if we want."

"These guys have a lot to lose. I'm worried they've covered their tracks." She glanced at Nick. "That could be a problem."

Nick nodded. "You don't think the Chief will appreciate it if we come up dry? Not to mention Judge White will have my head." He thought about the hell that already awaited them when they returned to the precinct. "I guess we better find something then."

The elevator doors opened and Tony was standing over a metal tray of instruments next to a gurney. Without turning around, he filled a needle from a vile and said, "Bring her over here." He tapped the side of the needle and placed it on the tray.

Nick's eyes scanned the expansive room filled with gurneys and sophisticated equipment. Behind large glass windows an operating area sat dark and sterile waiting for the next patient. The specimen room held rows of treasured human organs being kept viable in large cylinders. The air smelled of antiseptics and there was the faint beeping of monitoring equipment.

Jen touched Nick's arm and pointed to a rack of folded, empty blue body bags.

Nick said, "So this is where it happens?"

Tony whipped around and stared at Nick and Jen. The blood drained from his face. "Wha...what are you doing here?"

Jen stepped closer and asked. "You expecting someone else?" She wanted to beat him to his last breath and stab him with whatever was in that needle. The vision of Allison from this morning was burned in her mind.

She shoved a folded blue document toward him. "Search warrant."

Tony opened the search warrant and scanned the first page. His hands were shaking. "There's going to be hell to pay for this."

Nick took another step closer to Tony and leaned in. "We have Sharon Perez. It's over."

Tony stepped back. Lucas said he had Sharon. Did they have Lucas, too? Nick's stare was like two ice blue lasers. The man was terrifying. "I don't know what you're talking about. I want my attorney."

Nick removed Tony's cell phone from his jacket pocket and patted him down. "You're not under arrest, yet." He slipped Tony's phone into his own pocket.

Tony took another step backwards. "I have an emergency upstairs. I have to leave."

Nick wasn't about to let him out of his sight. "We heard about that. I want to check that out, too. Heather Sanford, wasn't it?" Nick glanced at Jen, "I'm going with him. Call me when you find something."

Nick and Tony rode the interior elevator up to the second floor in silence. Nick watched as Tony used his jacket sleeve to dab beads of sweat from his brow.

Tony pressed himself against the wall of the elevator and glared at Nick. He could feel Nick's hate. "You'd better think about this. You're making a big mistake."

Nick's expression remained unchanged. Tony was a coward. A weak man that had mistakenly been given power. A thug in a suit. Nick had imagined a dozen ways to kill him since the elevator door closed. He wouldn't do it...but he wanted to.

Tony blurted, "This hospital performs miracles every day. We save lives that everyone else has given up on. You have no idea how much trouble you are in."

The elevator door opened to a hallway of chaos. Nick saw two patrol officers guarding a man in handcuffs. Yellow crime scene tape had been used to section off the hall. Hospital staff stood in small groups watching the scene with expressions of horror. The coroner's team was in room 239 bent over the body of a young woman.

Nick recognized Detective Graham from the 106th precinct taking notes while interviewing a nurse. A janitor stood to the far side of the crowd guarding his bucket and mop. Nick thought his expression of boredom spoke volumes.

Tony walked up to Detective Graham. "Are you the detective in charge? I'm the Hospital Administrator, Dr. Scalla."

Detective Graham glanced at Tony and then noticed Nick. "Stryker? You don't get enough homicides of your own?"

Nick smiled, "I'm here on something else. What do you have?"

Detective Graham pointed at the handcuffed man. "Lawyer, Gilbert Mackey. Walks in with a pistol and shoots Heather Sanford, patient." Detective Graham frowned. "Dumbest defense story I ever heard. Go figure, a lawyer. Mackey claims he doesn't even know the Sanford gal. Doesn't know why he did it...doesn't know why he's here."

Nick glanced over at Mackey and thought about Dolly, Cynthia and Peter. How many people were walking around Chicago under this program's spell?

FBI Agent Stephen Phillips walked up next to Nick and nodded. "Hello gentlemen. Seems I'm late to the party." He looked at Detective Graham and held up his badge. "My case now, sorry." Nick and Phillips exchanged concerned glances.

Phillips said, "Mackey's story is probably true. He was probably hypnotized."

Detective Graham frowned. "What?"

******

Jen slowly walked around the surgical table and imagined the horrors that had happened there. She forced herself to stop and focus on finding evidence. Her hopes were sinking. Every surface was sterile and gleaming. She directed the Crime Scene Technician team to swab every surface and instrument in the entire area. In addition to wanting proof that Sharon had been there, there were a dozen missing persons still unaccounted for. GPS histories from their cars and the grey van suggested they had been brought to the hospital. There had to be something.

She walked over and sat at the desk that was in the corner. She snapped on latex gloves and carefully began to sift through the papers on the desk top. Most of the markings seemed to be unrelated doodles, dates and medical stats.

One of the documents was a roster of surgeons. Jen took a picture of the document and exhaled. How many staff knew what was really going on? Would they be able to tell a legal donor from a victim? A surgery schedule showed Heather Sanford's surgery was set for tomorrow afternoon. Kidney and pancreas.

The top drawer contained a laptop computer, a bottle of aspirin and a roll of Tums. The computer was password protected. The forensic techs would mine that field later. A small drawer on the right had a variety of pens, paper clips and notepads along with a pair of scissors.

Jen rolled the office chair back to scan the floor. A small, blue hazard bag rested on the floor and leaned against the desk leg. She slowly pulled the bag toward her and began unzipping it. Her heart quickened as she gingerly removed the contents, one item at a time.

******

Nick's cell rang. It was Jen. Her voice cracked when she said, "I found Sharon's purse and her cut-up I.D. cards in a small hazard bag by the desk. We've got 'em."

Nick sighed with relief. This was proof, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Sharon had been brought to Sunrise. "I'll wrap this up. We can head to Memorial to interview Sharon."

Nick slid his phone into his pocket and unhooked cuffs from his waistband. Tony's eyes opened wider as Nick moved toward him. Nick grabbed Tony's right wrist and slapped the cuffs on it. He pulled Tony's left wrist behind his back and cinched the cuffs tight. "Antonio Scalla, you are under arrest for the kidnapping and attempted murder of Sharon Perez."

Hospital staff near the crowded hall stepped back a few steps and stared at Tony in shock. His head jerked as he searched their faces. He raised his voice and pleaded to the crowd, "This is madness!"

Nick whispered in Tony's ear. "We found Sharon's purse downstairs."

Tony's shoulders rolled forward and his chin dropped to his chest. The purse. He hadn't disposed of the bag! He hadn't had time to even leave the hospital today. There had to be a way out of this.

Tony turned his head enough to look Nick in the eyes. "You will not survive this."

"I almost said that to you."

Nick instructed two patrol officers to escort Tony to the special D.A. holding block of the jail. "Be sure to let Assistant D.A. Jones know he's there. She's quite anxious to meet him."

Agent Phillips moved from the edge of the crowd to stand next to Nick and Detective Graham. He scanned the faces of the people watching and asked Detective Graham, "Where's her father, Dr. Sanford?"

Detective Graham looked around, "He was here a while ago. Said he needed fresh air."

Phillips cell rang, it was Kevin. Nick watched as Phillips jotted something down. "Are you sure it was Sanford?" Phillips raised an eyebrow as he glanced at Nick. He said thanks and ended the call. Phillips called his team and ordered a GPS trace on Sanford's car. This was a turn of events he didn't need.

Phillips motioned for Nick to move away from the crowd. He and Nick stood across from the elevator. Phillips said, "That was the reporter, Kevin. He and Darla, a friend of Dolly, followed Sanford to J.T. Barrimore's nightclub. Kevin says it looked like some muscle men kidnapped Sanford. Kevin followed them until his car ran out of gas." Phillips glanced at the coroner's staff positioning Heather's body bag on a gurney. He glanced back at Nick and said, "We need to get Sanford. We have to shut down this program...fast. I have a field team chasing down the GPS signal on Sanford's car now."

Nick was more interested in talking to J.T. Barrimore. Sanford going to J.T.'s place at this particular moment of crisis meant J.T. was in this hip deep. "J.T.'s place? Where's that?"

"I told you about this as a courtesy. Since J.T. seems to have taken a liking to you recently I thought you'd like to know. He's my case Stryker. Stay out of it. You've got enough going on here."

Nick nodded. "So I do. Well, thanks for the heads-up." Nick started to walk away. He and Jen would do their interview with Sharon and then he would pay a visit to J.T. at the nightclub.

Phillips touched Nick's shoulder to stop him and frowned. "I mean it. This software shit is worse than you think."

"I owe J.T. a thank you for the painting." Nick smiled. "I'll let you know if anything interesting happens."

Nick stepped into the elevator and pushed the down button.

He heard Phillips yell, "Damn it, Nick" to his back.

As soon as the doors closed Nick dialed Kevin. "Sharon is safe. I'll tell you where you can go see her in trade for the address of that nightclub Sanford went to."

Kevin quickly gave the address of J.T.'s nightclub to Nick. "Can I go see her now?"

"Yeah. She's got a patrol officer guarding her. She's at Memorial Hospital Emergency. Jen and I are heading there now. You can talk to her when we're done."

Kevin was so excited he could hardly think straight. "She's okay, right? Sharon? They didn't hurt her?"

Nick thought about how lucky they had all been. It had been close. Too close.

"She looked okay and said she was fine. The doctor needs to check her out. Like I said, we'll be there shortly. She isn't out of danger yet."

******

Agent Phillips went back to where Gill Mackey stood. Phillips slipped his card into Gill's pocket. "I'm having you transported to my field office. You'll be allowed to call your attorney. Have him call me. I think we can help each other out."

Gill looked confused.

Phillips said, "I think you've been hypnotized."

"How?"

"Did you just learn to speak Mandarin from an on-line program?"

Gill nodded. "Yes."

Phillips patted his shoulder. "We'll work this out. Stay calm."

Phillips made arrangements to have Gill Mackey brought to the local FBI field office. He'd do a cursory interview with him now and then turn him over to the legal team. Phillips was going to need the advice of their legal team on how to proceed. Obviously, Mackey had shot Heather Sanford and killed her. Was he responsible if he was acting under the influence of hypnosis?

Phillips entered the elevator and called the financial forensic team leader. "Anything from Sanford's bank records yet?" Phillips wanted the proof that J.T. had paid for the program before he talked to him.

A nurse entered the elevator at the last moment before the door closed. Phillips lowered his voice and took out a pen and small notebook. "Spell that."

He ended the call. The nurse smiled at him as she left the elevator. Phillips headed for his car. This didn't add up. Who the hell was Lucas Costellano?

******

Kevin hung up from his call with Nick and leaned his head back on the car's headrest. "Thank God. Oh, thank God."

Darla wiped the last of her Twinkie from the corners of her mouth. "What? What happened?"

Kevin's face lit up with a toothy smile. "The cops have Sharon. She's okay!" Kevin pulled his wallet from his pants. "We're gassing up and going to Memorial Hospital. Stryker said I can see her." He jumped from the car and began filling the tank with gas. She could see Kevin's face through the window all excited and smiling. The hospital was only a few blocks away. She couldn't wait to hear Sharon's story. This reporter stuff was a blast!

She looked in the Twinkie box, there was only one left. Suddenly she felt guilty. She would have to buy Kevin's grandma a new box or she would forever have nightmares that the old lady died in a blizzard without any food. She opened the glove box of the car and wrote down her address from the registration papers.

******

Jen and Nick raced toward Memorial Hospital to interview Sharon. Jen was unusually quiet.

Nick asked, "What's on your mind?"

Jen was driving and kept her eyes forward as she answered, "How close Sharon Perez came to a surgeon's knife. If you hadn't noticed that grey van in traffic this morning..."

Nick said, "We can thank the guy that let me take his bike." Nick groaned. "Remind me to call him."

Jen chuckled for the first time in hours. "You did manage to trash it pretty bad. Notice I've been driving more lately?" She quickly turned to Nick and smiled.

Nick's cell rang, he didn't recognize the number, "Stryker."

"Nick? This is Dr. Reynolds." Nick mouthed 'cop-shrink' to Jen.

Dr. Reynolds continued, "I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time?"

"This is fine, Doc. I'm still working but between locations. What do you need?"

"I might have found something helpful for you on that hypnotizing question you had this morning."

Nick had almost forgotten he had asked Dr. Reynolds to look into it. "Great. What did you find?"

"Well, much more than I expected. Our government spent quite a bit of research time and money on this subject. They actually used a scientist here in Chicago for some research but eventually dismissed him. I suspect they took issue with some of his theories. He's sort of a radical."

"Dr. Derrick Sanford?"

Dr. Reynolds stuttered, "Well, yes. How in the world did you find that out already?"

"It's a long story, Doc. I just left a homicide scene where the shooter was probably acting under hypnosis."

Dr. Reynolds paused and then said, "Oh, dear. I was calling to tell you that it was a virtual impossibility that a dissociative episode could be triggered to facilitate action based on hypnotic suggestion."

Nick asked, "Well, you're wrong. Where did you get your information?"

"I have a friend, retired FBI analyst that worked on the project. They thought Sanford's theories were bunk but they discovered other things he was doing. I think he's been on the FBI radar for a while. Nick, Sanford's software company has some very bad customers according to my friend."

"I'm finding that out. I appreciate you checking into this, Doc. I'm thinking the D.A. will be contacting you about using hypnosis as a criminal defense. Our shooter in this homicide is a lawyer."

"Oh great."

# CHAPTER 22

Sharon sat on the edge of the hospital bed. She could see the back of the patrol officer's head through the small glass window of the door. For the first time in hours she felt safe. Suddenly the officer's head moved and the door to the hall opened.

Jen walked over to Sharon, smiled and said, "We meet again."

Sharon remembered Jen and Nick from the Happy Burger parking lot. "Did you catch the ambulance driver? The other guys?"

Nick stepped next to Jen. "We got the driver and one of the other guys. Sharon, we need to video our interview with you. Is that okay?"

Sharon nodded. "Of course." She rubbed at a small bandage on the underside of her arm. "Can you tell me where I've been? Why I was kidnapped?"

Jen walked over to lean against the wall of the small room and held her phone up to video. She nodded to Nick.

"We'll tell you everything we can but we have to take your statement. For the purpose of documentation, I need you to state and spell your name and tell us everything you can remember." Nick didn't want to scare Sharon with too many details of the case. There was plenty of time for her to hear how close she had come to death after they had finished the investigation.

Sharon's eyes started to tear up. "I was so excited! Kevin was going to let me report a story with him. He gave me the address of where to meet him but I must have done something wrong. I ended up on a wrong exit..."

******

Kevin and Darla sat in the waiting room at Memorial Hospital Emergency. Nick was still interviewing Sharon. Darla glanced around the room and then whispered to Kevin, "You'd think Chicago thugs would take Monday night off. That's the fifth gunshot wound they've brought in since we've been here."

Kevin was finding it impossible to focus on anything she was saying. He couldn't wait to see Sharon.

Darla pulled out her cell phone and called Dolly. "Girl, you won't believe everything Kevin and I have done tonight! We started off with the FBI arresting us, then we watched a kidnapping, and now we're at the hospital to see Sharon!"

Kevin noticed that several people sitting across from them were listening intently to Darla's conversation and he nudged her knee. Darla looked over. "What?"

Kevin rolled his eyes toward the row of gaping listeners.

Darla smiled, "Call you back later." She ended the call abruptly just as Nick and Jen walked into the waiting room from behind two large, steel swinging doors.

Nick walked over to them. "Jen is going to stay with Sharon tonight until we can get a security team put together. I don't think she should go home; she's still in danger."

Kevin offered, "Peter has an extra room at his place. Would that work? We could all guard her, too."

Jen tossed the car keys to Nick. "I'll work something out on this end and call you." Jen added, "Be careful, Nick."

"Always."

Jen watched as Nick left the building. She felt her gut tighten. Nick was going after J.T. alone. She had to secure Sharon quickly and join him.

******

Kevin and Darla followed Jen through the maze of treatment rooms to the one Sharon was in. Sharon jumped from the side of the bed and gave Kevin a big hug. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again." Sharon's eyes moved to Darla. "I'm so sorry, I don't mean to be rude. You must be Kevin's girlfriend."

Darla reared her head back. "You still on drugs? I ain't his girlfriend, you are!"

Kevin sputtered something unintelligible at Darla and Sharon asked, "Kevin?"

Kevin regained his composure. "Sharon, this is Darla, a new friend of mine. She's been helping me all day to try and find you. I've been worried sick!"

Sharon kissed Kevin's cheek and snuggled in as Kevin embraced her in a hug. "I'm so sorry I messed up your big story. Some reporter I turned out to be."

Kevin gently pushed her from him. "Are you kidding me? This is the biggest story ever. You're going to write the story of a lifetime! I'll help you put it together but you are going to be famous." Kevin lowered his voice. "You know why they kidnapped you, don't you?"

Sharon glanced at Jen talking to the patrol officer in the hall. She lowered her voice. "All the police told me was that I was a victim of a carjacking kidnap team. They didn't really tell me all that much."

Kevin whispered, "They were going to take all of your organs and sell them!"

Sharon fainted.

Kevin held her up by her arm pits and he and Darla plopped her back on the bed.

Darla glanced at Kevin. "You might have worded that a little better."

******

Nick pulled up to the front entrance of J.T.'s nightclub and parked. He saw two security men at either corner of the building and one standing at the main door. He walked up to the door, flashed his badge and asked, "J.T. here?"

The man responded, "You can't take weapons in the building."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I can. Is J.T. inside?"

The man puffed his chest out and squared up to Nick. "I have to call him."

Nick side stepped him, pushed open the door and said, "You do that."

The man grabbed Nick's shoulder to stop him. Nick spun and landed a chop to the side of the man's neck with his right hand. He pulled the pistol from the guard's waistband with his left hand as the man fell to the pavement. Nick shoved the guard's pistol in his own waistband and walked into the building. A quick glance of the surroundings and he spotted J.T.'s special glassed-in booth. J.T. was there, watching him.

Nick heard boots charging up behind him and spun around. All three guards from outside rushed in. Patrons and staff scattered as the three men charged Nick. In seconds, Nick had all three of them on the floor moaning. He looked at J.T.'s booth and shrugged. J.T. waved him over.

One of the men on the floor answered his cell phone and gestured the other men to back off. Nick climbed the short staircase to J.T.'s booth and sat across from him in the deep leather cushion.

"Nice joint."

J.T. smiled. "Detective Stryker. It's been at least a year since our last meeting. It seems you brutalized some of my men back then, too. I'm surprised to see you at this kind of club. Did you come to check out the ladies? I thought you were engaged to that beautiful brunette... Lacey Star?"

Nick's skin crawled hearing J.T. mention Lacey's name. It was a power play. A not-so-veiled threat that J.T. knew Nick's loved ones and could cause them harm.

"I came to thank you for the painting. You shouldn't have." Nick could tell that J.T. had kept himself in good form. He was a skilled fighter by reputation. He and Nick had yet to come to blows.

J.T. smiled, "So you know about the painting? You're quicker than I expected."

"Why send it to me? Why have three people come to the precinct and confess to murdering me? You knew I'd finger you sooner or later."

J.T. swirled the straw in his drink. "Well, I wasn't sure. What tipped you off?"

Nick leaned forward. "I'll ask the questions for a while. How did you meet up with Sanford?"

"He called me. Wanted me to buy some software program that could control minds. He needed the money for some surgery or something."

Nick was surprised at J.T.'s candor. "So you bought it?"

J.T. smiled. "I'm not stupid. The program won't work. It can't be done as far as I could find out. I designed a couple of beta tests with Sanford that involved you. They were harmless exercises that would expose the program's flaws but maybe get your interest peaked. I assumed that once you figured out the program existed, you could get it off the streets. Sounded dangerous in the wrong hands. Just doing my civic duty." J.T. finished off his drink and pushed the glass to the center of the table. "Do you want a drink?"

"No, thanks." Nick wasn't buying J.T.'s sudden urge toward civic duty, but he also watched carefully as J.T. spoke. His body language and demeanor suggested that he wasn't worried or feeling guilty.

Nick asked, "How did Sanford find you?"

J.T. paused before answering, "He said my number had been given to him by a business associate. Lucas Costellano."

"How do you know Costellano?" Nick noticed a quick twitch of J.T.'s upper lip.

"Only by reputation. I dare say he's probably not one of my fans...which was another reason not to get involved with Sanford."

Nick saw Agent Phillips enter the building and flash his badge at the doorman. J.T. saw him too. "Well, well. Seems I'm popular tonight with the law."

The doorman pointed to J.T.'s booth. Phillips looked up and frowned. He walked up the stairs and stood in the doorway glaring at Nick. "Have you thanked the man for his present?"

Nick stood and made a gesture for Phillips to take the seat he was vacating. "I did. It seems Mr. Barrimore was simply concerned Sanford's program could end up in the wrong hands. He was warning me."

Phillips looked at J.T. and smiled. "That's a load of bullshit and we all know it." Phillips remained standing. "I want the last three hours' camera feed on this joint, including the parking lot."

J.T. fished in his pocket for a flash drive, unlocked a drawer under the booth and retrieved a laptop. He plugged in the flash drive and began an upload. "No problem, I always cooperate with my FBI friends. What are you looking for, if I might ask?"

"Derrick Sanford."

******

Nick left the nightclub and headed to the precinct. He had put off going there until evening to avoid running into any Internal Affairs officers. Explaining the events of the day was going to be time consuming.

Wayne looked up from his desk and leaned back in his chair. "Have you looked in a mirror lately? Your sleeves are torn and it looks like blood on your pants."

Nick looked down, "Not mine." Nick started removing cell phones from his jacket pockets and placed them on Wayne's desk. "Any chance I can talk you into helping me organize some of this?"

Wayne smiled, "I've been waiting for you to call me for backup. I'd rather play with phones than get shot."

Nick started pushing phones toward Wayne. "This is Sharon Perez's phone we found at the carjacking site. This is the ambulance passenger's phone, Sharon drugged him to escape. This is the ambulance driver's phone, he's back in holding. This is Sal Cutler's phone, he's also in holding." Nick held the last one up. "This is Antonio Scalla's phone, the Sunrise Hospital Administrator. He's in the D.A. lockup."

Wayne labeled evidence tags as Nick described them. He looked up and smiled, "You've been busy."

Nick tossed his torn suit jacket in the wastebasket next to the chair and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He glanced at Wayne's white board. "Can we change your board? Wait...I probably need a second board anyway. I'll go get the Chief's."

Wayne held up an index finger. "You might want to check that he's gone before you go down that hall."

Nick grinned. "Use my name in vain, did he?"

Wayne grinned back. "We moved way past vain. That was just the warm-up."

Nick turned left at the end of the hall and saw the Chief at his desk on the phone. The Chief saw him instantly and stood up. He waved Nick to come in. He was not smiling.

Nick entered the room and closed the door behind him. The Chief pointed to the chair across from his desk. Nick sat.

The Chief mouthed 'Mayor's office' and frowned as he listened to his caller. "I appreciate your position, Sir. As soon as I have been briefed on the status of this case I'll call you." The Chief rolled his eyes. "I am aware of the time, Sir. Yes, I have your number. Thank you, Sir."

The Chief ended the call and stared at Nick for a moment. "Does my voice seem higher to you tonight? My balls are suddenly in a poker-hot vice."

Nick squirmed in his seat as a sympathetic gesture. "Let me hazard a guess... your balls have something to do with me?"

A flash of anger passed over the Chief's face and was quickly replaced with a sudden outburst of laughter. "Damn it, Stryker! Bring me up to speed."

Nick spent the next twenty minutes giving the Chief a blow by blow accounting of the day beginning with the discovery of the body bags at the brewery and ending with the arrest of Tony Scalla. The Chief had been taking notes and looked up. "I'm confused...what does all of this have to do with the three people that came in here and claimed to have murdered you?"

Nick explained that they were victims of a software program designed to hypnotize people into dissociative stages and manipulate their actions.

Nick said, "The developer of the software, Dr. Derrick Sanford, sold the program to raise the money for his daughter's transplant surgery at Sunrise Hospital. She was shot tonight...probably by someone hypnotized to shoot Sanford."

The Chief rubbed his temples and moaned.

Nick added, "The FBI wants the software case but that case has some of my players. I want them all."

"Of course you do." The Chief pushed his chair back and exhaled. "Where's Jen?"

"She's arranging a safe place and security for Sharon Perez. Lucas Costellano is probably just now finding out that we have her. She heard her kidnappers use the name 'Lucas', twice. She also picked out Antonio Scalla from a photo lineup as being the man that took a skin sample from her arm and injected her with drugs. I can't make these cases without her."

The Chief shook his head. "You see it all in this job but I think this takes the cake. How many missing persons have you tied to the cars at the dump site? Twelve?" He rolled his neck and sighed. "Tomorrow we'll have the press all over us." He pointed at Nick. "You'll have to spend some time with Internal Affairs. We have multiple incident reports of officer involved shootings. Most of them are you! I'll do my best to pressure them for speed. You're in the middle of this...they can have you at the end."

"Thanks Chief." Nick stood and walked to the door and then turned, "Chief? There's a motorcycle that needs to be replaced."

"I heard. The owner stopped in to say he wants the old one back, too. He plans to put it in a Plexiglas box in his man cave. Wants to know if you'll sign the gas tank."

Nick grabbed the Chief's white board, pushed it through the door and grinned. "I need this."

******

J.T. watched as Agent Phillips left the nightclub. Phillips didn't mention that the FBI had received the tip from Lucas that he had bought the software program from Sanford. Of course Lucas wouldn't have identified himself. Phillips had no reason to come to the nightclub without the tip. Lucas was probably feeling smug. J.T. knew that feeling wouldn't last. By now, the FBI had probably found the transfer of funds from Lucas to Sanford. Now, they would want Sanford and Lucas, not him.

J.T. smiled as he signaled the waiter for another drink. Too bad they would never find Sanford. Lucas was going to face serious trouble with the Family. The level of attention that Sunrise Hospital was garnering would be enough to put Lucas on the wrong list. Soon, the FBI linking Lucas to this software program would finish him off.

# CHAPTER 23

Lucas instructed his driver to take the shortest way back to his home. What had started out a promising date, listening to Buddy Guy at Legends, had ended poorly. Now all he could think about was a vodka and a relaxing swim in his pool.

His cell rang. The caller I.D. wasn't showing. "Yes?"

"Lucas? This is Alderman Miles. What's this shit about Tony being arrested and the hospital on lockdown?"

******

J.T.'s cell rang. He was just leaving the nightclub for home. It was the Family calling.

"This is J.T."

"Are you aware of the problems with Lucas' operation today?"

J.T. had to be careful with his answer. If he admitted to knowing, he would have to explain not warning the Family. If he claimed not to know, they would wonder about his usefulness.

J.T. said, "I heard this afternoon that he had been making some personnel changes."

A long pause on the other end indicated the caller didn't share J.T.'s humorous view of the situation. "You mean where he killed three of his own men and the cops killed another four? Did you know Tony Scalla was arrested and Sunrise is being searched as we speak?"

J.T. didn't know about Sunrise. "What do you want?"

"We just took a vote. Lucas is out."

"It can't be me. I've got a little heat of my own right now. Nothing serious, but I'm not willing to risk it."

"Fine. We'll put together a team. Send us a list of his assets. He'll have to pay for this problem."

"Done."

J.T. hung up and opened his file on Lucas' assets. He copied the file and sent it to the Family boss. Who said the mob didn't have a sense of humor? Only in the mob did you pay for your own hit. Every penny in Lucas' accounts would disappear through a dark web of untraceable offshore transfers.

J.T. tossed his laptop on the passenger seat. The hit would likely be tomorrow. J.T. turned the ignition and pulled the BMW out of the lot. He checked traffic before turning onto the street and mumbled, "Sucks to be Lucas."

******

Kevin succeeded in convincing Sharon to stay at Peter's house until it was safe for her to go home. It warmed his heart to hear Peter, Dolly and Cynthia scream into the phone "Come here!" to Sharon. She had actually teared up hearing their voices. Jen made arrangements for two patrol units to guard Peter's house. She also put a unit at Sharon's grandmother's house, where Sharon actually lived, in case someone showed up there.

Jen escorted Sharon into Peter's living room and Dolly made the introductions. Kevin and Darla arrived moments later and Jen had them all sit down for a quick meeting.

"It might be best if Darla, Dolly and Cynthia go to their own homes tonight. You should all be safe. Every one of us has had a stressful day and needs a good night's sleep."

Dolly glanced at Darla, "You want to stay at my place tonight?"

"Yep. I figured you'd be scared and all." Darla got a sneaky smile on her face. "I'll tell you about a great idea I got for a new business for us."

Dolly narrowed her eyes. "Us? You got this idea today, in the middle of chasing kidnappers?"

"A detective agency! I'm a natural!"

Dolly looked at Kevin.

Kevin shrugged and said, "She is pretty good."

Darla added, "It's low overhead, too. All it cost was gas money and a box of Twinkies."

Dolly said, "I'm not even askin'."

Cynthia looked at Peter, "I should go home, too."

Peter took her hand. "Can I call you?"

Cynthia's face broke out in a smile.

Darla said, "For God's sake, pick a day for a first date and move on! We're all tired here." Dolly smiled as Darla mumbled, "Crazy fruitcakes."

Peter said his 'good-byes' and retreated to his room.

Kevin led Sharon to the kitchen table. He made her a cup of tea and sat down across from her. "I'm not leaving tonight. You take a shower and go to bed. I'll be right in the living room on the couch. Between Peter, myself and the cops you'll be safe. We can start working on your story tomorrow. I'm calling Jack to let him know. This is going to be epic."

Kevin exhaled and willed his breathing to regulate. Sharon somehow looked both fragile and fearless. "I feel responsible that you ended up in this mess. My God, you were almost killed."

Sharon could see the pain in Kevin's eyes. She felt safe for the first time all day. Kevin made her feel special and safe.

She leaned across the table and kissed him. Then she stood, took her cup of tea and walked to the guest bedroom and shut the door.

Kevin still felt the warmth of Sharon's lips. "Epic."

******

Jen walked into the 107th precinct to find Wayne and Nick filling up two white boards with info. One board was labeled 'organs', one 'software'. Jen plopped on her chair and twisted it to look at Sam. She hadn't seen him since early morning.

"What are you doing here?"

Sam glanced over, "I.A. has Wayne on desk duty for 'officer involved shooting'. I just finished up with the crime techs and evidence logs from this morning's circus."

"Yeah, I missed that." Jen had actually forgotten there had been three men shot at the precinct. They were never going to have the reports done from today. "What can I do to help?"

Sam looked at his watch, "It's ten o'clock. Talk Nick into going home. We can start fresh in the morning."

Nick heard Sam and turned from the white board. He put his marker on the rack and smiled. "Sam's right. Let's start fresh in the morning."

Jen was glad to go home but suspicious. She walked over to Nick. "You're not going home are you?"

Nick answered, "No. I'm going to Lacey's. Then home...honest."

Jen wagged her index finger at him, "No chasing down bad guys unless you call me first. Promise?"

"Promise."

******

Lacey hadn't been home ten minutes when the buzzer sounded at the front door. She looked at her security camera and saw Nick grinning at her.

"What's the secret password?"

Nick looked thoughtful and then said, "I have three. I love you."

"Close enough." She buzzed him in.

******

Jen tiptoed through the condo. The lights were off meaning John had already gone to bed. She entered the bedroom silently and rested her pistol on the dresser. As she grabbed a towel for her shower John said, "I love you."

Jen walked over to the bed and sat next to him. "I love you, too. Did I wake you?"

"I hadn't gone to sleep yet. Have you seen the news?"

"Nope."

"It seems the cops have closed down Sunrise Hospital. Was that you?"

"Yep."

"You want to talk about it?"

Jen leaned in close to kiss him. "Nope."

******

Derrick leaned into the back passenger door as the thug next to him kept a pistol pointed at his head. He could feel his can of Prestone De-Icer spray cutting into his hip. There was alcohol in that spray and it had a high pressure, long-shot stream. It was not exactly his weapon of choice, but it was the only one available. A shudder of fear ran up his spine. His heart pounded. Now, could he actually do it? Yes. If these men killed him, it would mean J.T. had won.

The driver of the S.U.V. was careful not to break any traffic laws. Wherever they were taking him had already been decided. There was no conversation and no outward signs of nervousness. Derrick realized that these guys had done this before.

Derrick had to get out of this vehicle. It was hard to think clearly. He was probably still in shock. Traffic was slowing down for a construction zone ahead. This was the perfect place to escape. It would be miles before the S.U.V. would be able to turn around and come after him. He slid his hand between his hip and the door and felt the De-Icer can. He glanced quickly to locate the button to unlock his door. He guessed that there was a man following them in another car. He had watched the man driving his S.U.V. checking the rear view mirror. The odds of him being able to roll out of a moving vehicle and not get run over or hurt badly were slim. The odds of him being able to get up and run after that were even slimmer. On the flip side of those risks, he had one big advantage. He was already dead inside. Heather was gone. He had nothing left to lose.

He wrapped his right hand around the can and felt for the nozzle. The car had slowed to a near stop. A highway construction worker held a large red sign that said 'slow'. He waved the traffic past a vehicle sized hole in the pavement surrounded by orange cones and men with jackhammers. As soon as they passed the construction cones Derrick raised the can and sprayed the eyes of the man next to him. He unlocked the door, threw it open and sprayed the driver's face before jumping out.

He rolled to the edge of the shoulder, hurdled the guard rail and then ran into the adjoining Walmart parking lot as fast as he could. A row of tightly parked cars gave him refuge to assess his injuries. Surprisingly, he was fine. A loud thud nearby nearly stopped his heart. He peeked through the spaces between cars and saw a young man unloading a cart into the bed of a truck. Derrick stood and walked quickly over to the young man.

"Young man? I find myself in an awkward situation and in dire need of a ride to Drake Street. Might I pay you for that ride?"

The young man looked skeptical. Derrick pulled his wallet out and counted off five one hundred dollar bills. "Would $500.00 do?"

The young man's face broke out in a big smile. "You must be running from cops."

Derrick shook his head, "Bad guys. Cops are probably next."

"Hop in."

******

Agent Phillips had just arrived at his condo when his phone rang. His team had located Sanford's S.U.V. abandoned near Garfield Park. Sanford was gone.

******

Derrick sat in Heather's apartment with the lights off. It was only a matter of time before the police would look for him there. In the meantime, he used his phone to transfer some of his office programs to Heather's computer. As soon as he finished, he walked six blocks and slipped his phone into the pocket of a drunk leaving a bar.

He walked back to Heather's apartment. He felt close to her in the midst of all of her belongings. Tears began to rush from his eyes. His heart ached so badly he imagined a sword protruding from his chest. Then came the sobs. With his head buried in his hands, he sat at the kitchen table and lost himself in his grief. Hours passed. A shrill scream of passing sirens slowly faded in the distance but left him with a lingering thought.

The FBI was looking for him.

Derrick wiped his face with his sleeves and willed his heartbeat and breathing back to normal. He didn't have time for a pity party. He needed a solid plan to revenge Heather's murder.

He glanced at the cookie jar he had given Heather for Christmas. He had showed her the secret bottom and put five thousand dollars there for her. He walked over and twisted the bottom. Hundred dollar bills floated to the counter. Heather had never used any of it. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He took a deep breath. Could he really do this? Could he revenge Heather's death? He put the bills in his wallet, grabbed Heather's laptop and stepped outside to catch a cab.

The cabby suggested a modest motel a few miles away. Derrick sat expressionless in a near daze as the brilliant colored lights of the city washed through the cab creating a fascinating and hypnotic strobe light. Each bright color beckoning the living to stop and take notice.

Derrick's thoughts returned to Heather. She would never see colored lights again. His soul had turned into a burnished, black mass, cemented by hate. Hate for himself for developing the program. Hate for J.T. for using it.

# CHAPTER 24

10:00 a.m. Tuesday, 107th precinct

Wayne and Jen reviewed the GPS histories of the dumped cars and mapped them for the District Attorney's evidence file. They had two piles. One was the GPS history of the hospital's grey van and the other was the GPS histories of the cars found at the dump site. The GPS histories didn't lie. Exit 141 was the car-jacking location and the parking lot behind the vacated rail building was the dump site. The victims had been transported to the brewery and later to the hospital.

Wayne leaned back in his chair and frowned. "Unbelievable. I hope D.A. Jones fries these guys." He leaned forward and held up one paper. "This one for the Schultz family is different from the rest." Wayne put it back on the pile. "Nick said he was working on it."

Jen nodded, "He is." She glanced up at the clock. "He's been with Internal Affairs for over two hours now. I thought the Chief told them to keep it brief?"

Wayne said, "I heard the Chief requested they bypass protocol and let him keep his gun and finish this case. They're trying to get me off from desk duty right now, too."

Jen pointed to the white board. "We still have Lucas Costellano and J.T. Barrimore to deal with. It's going to be a fun day." Jen remembered the men in holding. "Heck, we still have three guys in holding to interview."

Wayne smiled, "Did that. Nick thought they'd all lawyer up. They did."

Jen held up the information they had received from the 'missing persons' division. "Not one of these people have ever been found. Are we ever going to be able to tell their families anything?"

"Not until we have some kind of proof." Wayne's computer notified him that an email had been received, "Good! I've been waiting for this. This is a report from the World Health Organization. They have compiled a list of the organizations that Sunrise has worked with legally at an international level."

Wayne began reading the document displayed on his monitor. "Hmmm. They start this report out with a bold disclaimer that international organ trade information is provisional at best and often subject to international law. Here's a quote: "Organ exporting countries like China and Pakistan are alleged to have procured organs from inmates. The insufficiency of a legal framework or enforcing mechanism is highlighted by an increase in demand." In other words, I think they're saying they don't really know."

Jen said, "I have the lists from the U.S. organizations for the last two years. It looks like about 70% of the transplants done at Sunrise were probably through legal donor channels. Sunrise has earned the highest ratings listed."

Wayne said, "That doesn't make the last 30% less ugly. Evidently rich people don't want a prisoner's heart."

******

Nick rolled his shoulders and adjusted his position in the chair. "You two about done with me for now? I've got a busy day planned."

The two I.A. officers glanced at each other. A full legal pad of notes sat on the table top. They both knew from experience that if Nick said he was going to be busy, they were going to be buried.

One of the officers said, "Yeah, we can stop here for now. It's going to be a damn month to go through all of this. Stay on this case until every last bastard is caught. We'll go over the details when you're done."

Nick grinned, "That means I've got my wheels and gun, right?"

The I.A. officer smiled. "Right. Lord help us."

Nick knew they had made a judgment call in his favor so he could finish the case. He was grateful not to be tied to a desk or relieved of his duty weapon.

Nick stood and smiled. "I almost forgot, I have a present for you." Nick slid a small piece of paper with a phone number over to the lead I.A. officer. "Check this out. Sal Cutler, works for Lucas Costellano called this number between 6:30 and 7:00 last night and found out where patrol was taking our kidnap victim. I overheard Sal's side of the conversation. Sal only gave his name; that was all that was needed. I have Sal's phone. I also have Sal, he's around the corner in holding."

Nick opened the door to leave the interview room. "I called the number myself, rings to a direct line at Headquarters, Senior Internal Affairs Lieutenant."

******

Assistant D.A. Trisha Jones had arrived at the precinct while Nick was being interviewed by Internal Affairs. She sat across from Jen's desk and marveled at the stacks of evidence they had acquired on the kidnapping case.

"The D.A.'s office is in chaos right now. I think every wealthy person in Chicago and New York has had a relative that swears by Sunrise Hospital. This case has become an overnight nightmare. You've done a tremendous job Detective Taylor. I can't believe all of this happened in one day."

Jen smiled and pushed another stack of evidence across the desk. "Call me Jen. Thanks for the compliment but we're hardly done."

Trisha sheepishly said, "I know. The D.A. plans to offer a deal to Dr. Scalla. I brought a copy for your review." She leaned forward, "We need his testimony against the others. I hope you and Detective Stryker have no objections."

Jen frowned, "I hope the hell he isn't going free!"

"Who's going free?" Nick walked up behind Trisha.

Jen handed Nick the D.A.'s offer to Scalla. Nick scanned it and dropped it on the desk. "Fine by me." He shrugged, "He's going to get shanked as soon as you put him in general population anyway."

Trisha stood, "That brings me to part two. We have that same concern. He has to live long enough to testify for us. The FBI has offered to put him in federal witness protection."

"In exchange for...."

"Lucas Costellano."

"Lucas is mine. I want him for murder."

"Agent Phillips says the FBI is building a National Security case on Costellano regarding some software program."

"He's building a case. I'm ready."

"He has National Security."

"I have a six-year-old named, Allison."

Wayne interrupted from across the room. "Let the games begin."

******

Lucas had been sitting in his chair in front of the television since the first airing of the 'breaking news'. How could so many things have gone wrong in just one day? He tried once again to reach his contact with the Family. The last thing he needed was for them to find out about Sunrise on television. He had to convince them that he had this under control. He dialed and waited through eight rings.

Lucas hung up. They weren't taking his calls. They knew. He pulled up his bank accounts on his cell phone. Gone. It was all gone.

They were coming.

******

J.T. contemplated what punishment, if any, his men deserved for failing to kill Sanford. His security team didn't really do anything wrong other than underestimate Sanford. In truth, J.T. had underestimated him, too. The man was a genius. It didn't change the fact that Sanford was a risk. He had to be found and eliminated. He would have to do it himself.

******

Nick wasn't surprised that he and Assistant D.A. Trisha Jones did not come to any agreement regarding the ultimate fate of Tony Scalla and the arrest of Lucas Costellano. What did come from their discussion was his realization he needed much more evidence on Lucas than he had, if he was going to win a fight with the FBI The ambulance driver, the remaining driver from the muffler shop shooting and Sal, had already lawyered up.

Nick rolled his chair next to Jen's desk. She was hunched over a thick stack of papers. The various cell providers of the five phones Nick confiscated yesterday had provided printouts of the last thirty days' calls.

Jen moved her eyes to glance at Nick. "Are you here to help me with this?"

Nick grinned, "Nope. I want your advice."

Jen straightened her shoulders and twisted to face him. "Shoot."

"What do you think Phillips and the FBI really want?"

Jen thought a moment. "Trisha said they want Lucas."

"I think they really want the software program code and whoever has it now. I think J.T. has it. Not Lucas."

Jen asked, "You think that's why Sanford went to J.T.'s nightclub and then got kidnapped?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense. If J.T. didn't buy the program, why risk doing something to Sanford? Why would Sanford go to J.T.'s nightclub after his daughter was shot?"

Jen answered, "Revenge?"

"Maybe. Something has the FBI thinking Lucas has the code. I wish I knew what it was."

Nick started clicking the end of his pen while he thought. Jen took it away from him and said, "If we can prove J.T. has it and not Lucas we won't have to fight the FBI to keep Lucas for ourselves."

Nick pointed to the phone logs. "How many times are you finding Lucas' number?"

"I just started...a lot."

"How many times are you finding J.T.?"

"None."

J.T. had nothing to do with Lucas' operation.

Nick stood, "I'm going to take a swing at Sal. The ambulance driver is toast but I might be able to cut a deal for Sal."

Jen said, "You just had a knock down with Trisha and you're going to ask her to cut a deal on Sal?"

Nick knew Trisha was in the Chief's office. If he could catch her before she left, he might be able to repair any damage he'd done. "You're saying I need to draw on my charming inner child?"

Wayne looked up from his papers and chuckled, "You're going to need a whole pee-wee team of charming inner children to win this one."

Nick knocked softly on the Chief's office door before he stuck his head in the room. "Sorry to interrupt but I need a favor from Trisha." Nick grinned at her.

"Don't think your cute grin makes me inclined to do you a favor." Trisha rolled her eyes and then looked pleadingly at the Chief. "Nick isn't playing well with others today."

The Chief smiled.

Thirty minutes later Nick left the Chief's office with a signed deal for Sal if he could give verifiable information on Lucas' illegal deeds.

Nick walked into holding and glanced at the ambulance driver and the driver from the muffler shop shooting. "You two are screwed."

Nick unlocked Sal's cell. "Come on buddy, time to set you free."

Sal's eyes got big and he followed Nick to the interview room. Nick pointed to a chair at the long table and shut the door.

Sal asked, "You're setting me free?"

Nick smiled, "Hell no. I just wanted your co-workers to think you made a special deal against Lucas."

Sal frowned, "You set me up!"

"I prefer to think of it as offering you a clearer choice. Your only choice."

Nick took a disclosure from his pocket and placed his pen on top. He slid the paper across the table to Sal. "Sign here that you are willingly giving up your right to an attorney."

Assistant D.A. Trisha Jones and Jen watched the interview from behind the one-way mirror wall.

Sal asked, "Why in the hell would I do that?"

Nick said, "Because Lucas is already going to believe you took a deal. Why pay the price and not get the goods? I'm going to have Lucas by the end of today. Period. What I want from you is some shit to puff up my case." Sal wasn't convinced. Nick continued, "The way I see it is you are either tied to the kidnapping of Sharon Perez and the murder charges of everyone associated with Lucas and Sunrise Hospital, or you were simply at the wrong place, at the wrong time in Happy Burger's parking lot."

Nick pushed the paper closer to Sal. "I have the D.A. agreement in my pocket. If your information checks out, you walk." Nick held up the D.A. agreement for Sal to see the signature.

Sal rolled his neck and then cracked his knuckles. He picked up the pen, signed the disclosure and pushed it back to Nick.

"How far back do you want to go on Lucas' shit?"

Nick ginned at the one-way mirror. "Let's go all the way back." Nick hit the record button on the tape recorder. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. "Go."

Assistant D.A. Jones couldn't take her eyes off Nick. She turned to Jen and smiled, "He's so yummy."

Jen held the door open and stated, "He gives me gas."

# CHAPTER 25

Derrick Sanford had worked through the night and well into the morning using his dark web account to create a new identity for himself. The channels of the dark web were such that data could both be sent and received anonymously. The developers and gatekeepers of the dark web channels constantly changed code ensuring government and law enforcement agencies were kept out. It also protected users from each other. While the fees for use were expensive, the rules were simple. The U.S. government estimated that billions, perhaps trillions, of dollars were transferred daily in illegal activity.

Derrick had enough money for what he needed to do right now. He still had five hundred thousand left from the sale of his program. He could always sell another copy on the dark web. Maybe more than one. He didn't care what destruction might come from its use. He wouldn't be around to pay the consequences.

He transferred his money an hour ago. It now waited for him in his new account at Bank of America. Surprisingly, the hardest task had been hacking the Social Security system and securing a valid social security number. After that, it was easy. He created a fake credit history, education record, and finally his bank account.

It wasn't like he needed money to fund a long, peaceful retirement. He didn't expect to live that long. Just long enough to ensure he had devastated J.T. Barrimore's life. He had spent hours last night browsing through J.T.'s computer systems. He appreciated the highly sophisticated security J.T.'s company employed. It hadn't been easy to breach, but with a few software purchases from the dark web on encryption, he had managed. His own parasite program that Matt had uploaded to J.T.'s system had been his gateway.

He worked feverishly to create code for a new path with dark web access and lock the gateway he had used to get in. As soon as he began implementing his plan on J.T. the first thing J.T. would do, would be to have his people scour his codes. They wouldn't find anything.

Derrick paused and looked at the list he had compiled of things to do today. A small picture he had taken from Heather's apartment sat majestically on the center of the table. Heather's beautiful smile radiated from the photo and gave him energy. Purpose. He began running his bio scan on J.T. for the basis of his attack.

He would know as much about J.T. in a few hours as J.T. himself. Utilizing the spy tools purchased this morning and a few he had developed himself, he would have enough to know what time J.T. turned on his television and what channels he watched. If he had a "smart house' or even a 'smart' appliance Derrick could command them at will to spy for him.

Derrick reviewed his GPS interface program and his new satellite band. As soon as his tracker program was ready he could initiate it by contacting J.T. A simple one-line message could be sent to J.T.'s cell phone. Once opened, the Satellite would hone in and lock on. Not to the cell phone but to J.T.'s unique human imprints. Even if J.T. destroyed his phone and switched to another he could be found again. It was like a merging of machine and human D.N.A.

Fingerprints, facial recognition, voice patterns, behavior histories all reporting continuously to pinpoint J.T.'s every move.

Derrick said a soft 'Thank you' to N.A.S.A. for developing the program. He had heard it was completed but surprised to find a copy for sale on the dark web. It had been developed to track known terrorists through the tunnels of Afghanistan.

J.T. was about to spend the rest of his life haunted. Derrick didn't care if it went on for a week, a year or a decade. He had a lot of revenge to seek. Destroying J.T.'s life was his new career.

******

Agent Phillips flipped through his evidence file on Lucas Costellano. It was too thin. If he was going to make the case that Lucas had bought the software program he would need more than just the payment to Derrick Sanford. He needed Sanford, who was missing, and he needed to eliminate the copy of the program that was sold.

He tapped his pen on the file. Time was not on his side. Jason Little had been caught with a copy he planned on selling but it wasn't the copy that was gone. Jason had no idea who Sanford had sold it to.

Phillips moaned. It was painfully clear his window of opportunity was closing. The forensic lab stated they needed time to trace the upload. Whoever purchased the program had transferred it through a dark web cloud. It was going to take considerable time and there was no guarantee they would succeed.

Phillips raised his chin toward the ceiling and closed his eyes. "Shit!"

As soon as his outburst happened, Assistant D.A. Trisha Jones materialized in his office doorway. She smiled, "May I come in?"

Phillips was embarrassed to have been caught acting so juvenile. "Hey, sorry about that."

Trisha walked in, sat across from his desk and pushed a file toward him. "Here's the deal. You let Stryker have Costellano first, and you provide protection for Tony Scalla in exchange for what is in this file."

"What's in the file?"

"Lucas Costellano's entire Chicago operation and some of his connections with the International Crime Family."

Phillips started to lift the folder. Trisha placed her palm on it. Phillips asked, "How did you get this?"

"Stryker. He has...had a prisoner turn. This guy has been a crew leader for Lucas for years. He has been in charge of much of his dirty work and even acted as personal bodyguard for some high profile meetings. There's a lot there."

Phillips rubbed his chin. "I don't know..."

Trisha said, "Look at it this way. When Stryker's done you can have the leftovers. Meanwhile you can build a racketeering case."

Phillips slid the file from under her hand and opened it. He leaned back, read for a while and then looked up. He shook his head and said, "Where does Stryker find these guys? This is gold." He knew he didn't have enough to make his case yet anyway. This deal could buy him some time. He still needed to explore J.T.'s connection to Sanford more. He could take Lucas back when he was ready. It wouldn't be the first time the FBI stole a case from Nick.

"Done."

******

Nick looked at his watch. The whole day was gone. He threw a paper-wad at Jen. "Do you see what time it is?"

Jen stretched and glanced at the wall clock. "Wow. Putting those files together for Trisha was a killer."

Nick's phone rang, it was the coroner's office. "Hey Doc."

He listened for a while, said "Thank you", and hung up. "Jen, new evidence on that little side lead we've been working on."

Wayne looked up. "You keeping secrets?"

Nick told them both what the coroner had said.

Wayne pushed his chair from the desk and shook his head. "Now that's evil."

Jen said, "Let's have Trisha verify the coroner's findings with Scalla just to be sure. She can call us."

This case had Nick feeling like a caged lion. Instead of bars, he was constricted by laws. He'd love to dish out some street justice. It was a familiar temptation, an urge he fought to control. It was also one of his deepest fears. Someday he would snap. Someday, when no one was looking...

Nick nodded, "Good call. I want every piece of proof nailed down." Nick stood and checked his pistol. "Right now we have an arrest warrant to serve on Lucas Costellano. Who's coming to the party?"

******

J.T. glanced at his watch and decided to go home. Tomorrow he would begin an intensive search for Derrick Sanford. The FBI hadn't found him so he was definitely in hiding. J.T. was confident his resources would flush Sanford out before the FBI.

J.T.'s cell pinged that he had a message. He tapped on it. "Let's play. Heather."

He looked at the message again. There was no identification of the sender. Wasn't Sanford's daughter named Heather? J.T. dialed his computer geek, Matt, in Indianapolis. "Check out who just sent me a message on my cell. I'll hold."

A few minutes went by and Matt came on the line again. "There isn't any message."

J.T. raised his voice. "I'm looking right at it! It says, 'Let's play. Heather."

"I'm telling you nothing is showing. You've been ghosted."

"What's that?"

"A problem."

"Well, un-ghost it!" J.T. didn't even understand what Matt meant but he didn't like the tone of Matt's voice.

"I'll do my best. I'll have to buy today's dark web codes to even start."

J.T. rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "How much is that?"

"About a hundred K."

"Do it."

It had to be Sanford. He was coming after him with the only tool he had, technology. J.T. thought about the comments Matt had made about Sanford's program. The words brilliant and genius dotted every sentence. Could he win a tech war against Derrick Sanford with just Matt?

J.T. grabbed his car keys and headed for the parking garage. It was going to be a long night. He started the BMW and turned the radio on low.

A woman's voice broke into the song, "Are we going home?"

J.T. stared at the dash as the song returned to the radio. His gut told him this was the beginning of a very wicked game.

# CHAPTER 26

Lucas stood staring out the front window of his estate. He could afford a statelier home but he didn't want to draw attention to himself. This home was fine, considering he was single. With over four thousand square feet and situated on five acres in a gated community, he at least enjoyed some privacy. He sat his drink down on the coffee table and scanned the beautiful mahogany walls of the sitting room knowing it was the last time he would see them.

In half an hour he would leave for the airport and on to Paris. Thank God he had an offshore account the Family hadn't found. He could reestablish himself and disappear into the European masses. A glint of light flashed across the wall. There was a car out front. His security team had been reinforced anticipating an early visit from the Family hit team. He hadn't expected them so soon.

It was those two detectives with some other guy. He looked like a cop, too. One of his guards had stopped them. The driveway was the only way out and they had it blocked. He would have to deal with them.

Lucas walked to the front entrance and stood in the threshold. He didn't have time for this shit. He could tell from the expressions on the cops' faces that they were here for serious business. Lucas wasn't about to miss his jet. If he had to leave the country a cop killer, so be it.

Nick walked up to Lucas and said, "I told you I had just begun. Lucas Costellano, you are under arrest. Turn around and put your hands behind you back."

A red dot appeared on Lucas' forehead. Nick yelled, "Sniper" the same instant he pushed Lucas to the floor of the foyer. A rifle shot cracked. Nick turned and took cover near a large concrete planter on the porch. Jen and Wayne took cover by their car. Nick saw two men charge from the corner of the house. Both men were shot. The flashes came from the tree line.

Nick yelled at Jen. "Stay down."

One of Lucas' security men began running across the lawn toward the tree line. Nick watched as a rifle shot took him down. The flash had been slight but Nick pinpointed it. The first sniper had a buddy thirty yards to the right.

A car barreled down the drive toward the house and stopped. Two men with automatic weapons jumped from the vehicle and took cover behind the car doors. They pelted the planter in front of Nick and the car shielding Jen and Wayne.

Nick rolled thirty feet to his right behind a row of short hedges, stood and landed a kill shot in each of their foreheads. He ran toward their vehicle as the sniper shots from the tree line followed him in rapid succession.

Nick yelled to Jen and Wayne, "Stay there."

In her peripheral vision Jen saw movement to her left. A man emerged from the opposite corner of the house. He was aiming his weapon straight at them. She shot. Wayne glanced over and fired two more shots. The man dropped to the ground.

Nick leaped over the dead shooter and jumped in their car. He twisted the steering wheel, floored the accelerator and headed straight for the tree line. Sniper shots shattered the windshield and blew the front right tire. Nick slid down in the seat, gave the accelerator one last push, opened the door and rolled from the car just before it slammed into a tree.

He scanned the canopy of trees and spotted movement. His eyes narrowed as he waited and watched. Someone was there. Move, damn it. Suddenly a dark mass appeared and began scaling down the tree trunk. Nick fired. The mass dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.

Nick turned around and worked his way to the right. There was another shooter somewhere near. A twig snapped behind him. Nick slowly turned his head. A man holding a rifle was carefully scanning the brush not fifty feet away. Nick shot.

He called Jen's cell. "You okay?"

Jen answered, "Yes. You?"

"See if you can make it to the house. I'll cover you from here."

Jen and Wayne ran from behind the car through the open front door. No one tried to stop them. Nick watched for any signs of hidden attackers. He stood and listened to the sounds of the wildlife in the small strip of woods. It was over.

Lucas sat in a recliner sipping a drink.

He smiled at Jen and Wayne and said, "I see the good guys won."

******

Several patrol units and the coroner's team arrived at Lucas' home. Jen and Wayne filled in the responders on what happened while Nick sat with Lucas in the drawing room.

Nick glanced at the suitcase in the foyer. "I see you had a trip planned." Nick watched Lucas' expression harden. "Seems your friends planned a 'goodbye' party for you."

Lucas finished his drink and stood. "I've got nothing to say to you." Lucas turned around and put his hands behind his back.

Nick clamped the cuffs on Lucas' wrists and pointed him toward the door. "We finally agree about something."

Nick turned Lucas over to the patrol officers for transport. Jen shook her head as sirens filled the air and the expansive manicured lawn disappeared under an army of police vehicles. Red and blue flashing lights pulsated colored reflections on the stately windows of the mansion.

Wayne walked over to Jen and Nick. "Hey, I commandeered a unit you can take on your next stop. I'll be here at least three hours."

******

Nick and Jen waited in silence as the elevator rose to Nadine Schultz's penthouse condo in the Waldorf Astoria. They already knew each other's thoughts and feelings. Jen was exhausted but determined to see this case to the end. Nick was focused, his jaw set, the vision of Allison Schultz entombed in a blue body bag forever a part of his memory. An innocent victim of untethered greed.

The elevator door opened. The faint fragrance of jasmine wisped through the air exactly as Nick remembered from his first visit. Elizabeth walked toward them from the sitting room. She gave Jen a cursory nod and said, "Mother really doesn't have much time, Detective Stryker. It has been a very long and exhausting day. She really should retire for the evening."

Nick noticed Elizabeth was dressed in all black. "Have the funeral arrangements been completed?"

Elizabeth's clacking high heels on the marble floor stopped abruptly and she turned, "We spent hours at that dreadful funeral home today." She forced a small smile. "I'm afraid my mood has been damaged. Forgive me if I seem short."

Nick nodded and he and Jen followed Elizabeth into the expansive sitting room. Jen walked over to stand next to the marble fireplace. From that position she could see all of their faces. Nadine sat in the wing back chair near the window. Nick remembered his first meeting with her at Sunrise Hospital. Her suite at the hospital had been a close duplicate of this room. That day she had sat near the window, too. She stood to greet them. "Detective Stryker, Detective Taylor, I have been looking forward to your visit." Nadine glanced at Jen and then back to Nick. "Please have a seat. Would either of you care for a beverage?"

Jen shook her head.

Nick said, "No, thank you."

Nick sat opposite of Nadine at the marble table by the window. Elizabeth sat at the end of the white couch and studied her manicure. Nick waited for Elizabeth to glance his way. Eventually, Elizabeth noticed the extended silence and looked up.

Nick asked her, "Did you see Marvin and his family when they arrived in Chicago?"

Elizabeth huffed, "No. I told you that he called me to tell me their jet had arrived safely."

Nick noticed Elizabeth's tone and demeanor change to defensiveness. "Right. That's when you gave him directions to the museums?"

"Right." Elizabeth shot an expression of annoyance toward Jen.

Jen realized Elizabeth expected her to stop Nick's questions. This was going to get ugly, fast.

Nick raised an eyebrow, "We have a copy of the directions Marvin wrote down from your call. I'm puzzled. Why did you tell him to take Exit 141?"

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. Her diction became more staccato. "I don't know that I did. I'd have to go to google maps again to see what I told him." Elizabeth glanced back at her nails. "Maybe he wrote it down wrong?"

Nick answered, "No, you told him Exit 141." Nick turned to face Nadine. "I'm sure you've heard this morning's news about Sunrise Hospital? What you might not have heard is that Sunrise developed a software program that interrupted GPS Innocent people were directed to Exit 141 only to become kidnap victims. Their cars were dumped and their bodies ravaged for saleable organs at Sunrise."

Nadine's eyes fluttered and her face flushed. Hearing Nick's description of the crimes was almost more than she could bear. The idea that someone had conceived such a diabolical plan was incomprehensible.

Nick softened his voice as he spoke directly to Nadine. "We've arrested almost all of the main players in this. You'll be safe after today."

Nadine nodded. "I'm most grateful to you both."

Nick turned to look directly at Elizabeth. "We found twelve cars at the hijacking dump site used by Sunrise Hospital's kidnapping team. All twelve of the vehicle owners have been reported missing. We believe they are all victims of Sunrise. Strangely, the only car at the dump site that didn't use GPS directions to Exit 141, was Marvin's."

Elizabeth sat up straighter. "Are you saying that Marvin simply took a wrong exit and ended up murdered?" Elizabeth's chin began to quiver, "Do you think I gave them the wrong directions by mistake?"

Elizabeth's performance didn't impress him.

Nick's tone was flat. "How much money do you stand to inherit if something happens to your mother?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "What...what does that have to do with anything?" Elizabeth looked at Nadine. "Mother, say something! Do you realize what he is insinuating?"

Nadine clutched her hands together in her lap. "Did I mention that I received a call regarding my medical report from Dr. Ames, Elizabeth? It seems my heart is perfectly fine. There was trace evidence, however, of a chemical substance in my toxicity report. It seems around the time I had my 'heart attack' I'd been given a nearly lethal dose of something. They're still doing tests." Nadine coldly asked, "Wasn't that the night you prepared my dinner?"

Elizabeth leaped up from the sofa. "Have you gone mad? Now you're accusing me of poisoning you?"

Nick spoke before Nadine could respond. "I couldn't figure out how having Marvin and his family disappear would help you. Without the bodies, you would have to wait seven years to have them declared dead. But then I realized if Nadine was dead, you would be in charge of all of the corporate assets, even if Marvin was simply missing. There was plenty of corporate money to steal without Marvin's insurance money, wasn't there?" Nick stood and faced Elizabeth. "Your boyfriend, Lucas Costellano, simply arranged to do you a favor, didn't he?"

Elizabeth was fuming. "Who? You've gone completely mad. I don't know anyone by that name."

Nick pulled up a picture on his phone and showed Elizabeth. It was the selfie Lacey had sent him. In the background of the picture Elizabeth was touching Lucas' cheek and smiling. "This guy."

Elizabeth stared at the phone and went pale. "So what? You can't prove any of this! This is just speculation."

Nick said, "It's over Elizabeth. We have Lucas. Dr. Anthony Scalla is cooperating with the D.A. We know everything."

Nick took a step closer to Elizabeth. He was in her personal space and could sense her fear. He struggled to keep his voice steady. "The part that got to me was when the coroner called and told me they found D.N.A. on Marvin's cheek. D.N.A. from a family member... saliva. Our tests will confirm it's yours. You assumed the bodies would be cremated, not discovered, didn't you? Dr. Scalla will testify that you insisted on seeing their bodies. You kissed Marvin's cheek before you watched Dr. Scalla zip up the body bag." Nick leaned in even closer. "You whispered 'Gotcha', didn't you?"

Nadine gasped.

Elizabeth snarled, "You think you're so damn smart. Nobody will believe Tony. Lucas knows people. He'll walk, too! Your life will be in ruins. I'll get the best lawyers money can buy and bury you!"

Nadine stood. "Not with a penny of my money. You'll have a public defender and I'll testify for the prosecution. When did you become so cold, Elizabeth?" Nadine's quivering chin rose. Her voice was nearly a whisper. "The devil is waiting to kiss your cheek."

Elizabeth threw her head back and laughed. "Ha! You should know what 'cold' is mother. Always favoring Marvin and keeping me on some meager allowance, like a child. You didn't love us. We were your disappointing spawn that you wanted to keep hidden." She glared at Nadine and her voice became louder. "Why wouldn't I want you dead? You're useless. Nobody loves you. They love your money. My money! Face it mother; if you want to protect your precious reputation, you have to protect me. I'm all you have left."

Nadine closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. When she opened her eyes again, tears streamed down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. After your father passed I saw my role as the family protector. I thought I was teaching you character and love. Obviously, I have failed you."

Nadine looked at Nick. "Do you have enough now?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened as Nick pulled a recorder from his pocket and clicked it to stop. "Yes, I do."

Elizabeth lunged toward Nadine, her hands extended like claws. Nick grabbed her and twisted her arm behind her back. Elizabeth screamed, "You bitch! You're helping them? I don't believe this!"

Jen tapped her cell phone and said, "Come get her."

Jen was shaking with hatred. She forced herself to calm down.

The elevator doors opened and two patrol officers walked straight to Elizabeth.

Nick said, "You're under arrest for the murder of Marvin, Carla and Allison Schultz and the attempted murder of Nadine Schultz." He turned to the officers, "Get her out of here and make sure she understands her rights."

Nick leaned in close to Elizabeth's ear. "Gotcha."

Nick and Jen exchanged glances.

Nick turned to Nadine. "I'm sorry this happened to your family."

Nadine opened the palm of her hand and showed Nick a tiny picture of Allison that was cupped there. "When you called me for my help, I truly believed you were mistaken. I know my daughter. I can tell when she's guilty. My Allison gave me the strength to help you, Detective Stryker. My little angel, Allison." She dabbed a tear from her cheek. "I know Elizabeth expects I will save her in spite of it all."

Nadine took a step back and lowered herself on to her chair. She straightened her shoulders and said, "May she rot in hell."

___________________________________

Author note to reader:

We would like to thank you for purchasing and reading 'Wrong Exit'. If you enjoyed our story we would appreciate a brief review on this book's product page on Amazon. Reader reviews are extremely important to a book's success. A full list of our other books follows the 'List of Characters'. Thank you again and happy reading!

List of Characters

Police:

Nick Stryker..Chicago Homicide Detective 107th precinct

Jen Taylor..Chicago Homicide Detective 107th precinct

Wayne Dunfee .. Chicago Homicide Detective 107th precinct

Sam Flores....Detective 107th precinct

Steven Phillips....Chicago field office, organized crime

General:

J.T. Barrimore...Owner of Global Securities, part-time hitman for Chicago mob

Matt...Programmer that works for J.T. Barrimore

Dr. Derrick...Developer of hypnotic software, psychologist

Cynthia Bronson....Confessed to murdering Nick, local artist

Dolly Weston.. Confessed to murdering Nick, Librarian

Darla Turner...Dolly's best friend

Peter Jarvis....Confessed to murdering Nick, stock broker, Kevin's brother

Kevin Morris....Reporter for Chicago Tribune

Sharon Perez...Works with Kevin reporter wanna be

Jack Dugan....Copy editor for Chicago Tribune

Jason Little....Partner and assistant to Dr. Sanford

Dr. Tony Scalla....Sunrise Specialty Hospital Administrator

Lucas Costellano....Mob man head of organ business

Kidnap team....John Vince and Juan

Family victims....Marvin, Carla and Allison Schultz(Found at brewery)

Elizabeth Hull....Sister of family victims

Nadine Schultz....Owner:Schultz Energy/Mother:Elizabeth Hull,Marvin Schultz

Sirus Corn....Homeless man

Gill Mackey....Hypnoitzed assassin, lawyer

Sal Cutler....Mobster works for Lucas

The New Orleans Series

Alcohol Was Not Involved

Book One of Trilogy

Extreme Heat Warning

Book Two of Trilogy

Silent Crickets

Book Three of Trilogy

Catahoula

Book Four of Series

****************

The Nick Stryker Series:

Cusp of Crazy, Book One

Twisted, Book Two

Zero Margin, Book Three

Wrong Exit, Book Four

