Ultimate Fear (Book 2 Ultimate CORE) (CORE Series) (30 page)

“Either way, I’ll keep you and your baby in my prayers. Take care, Chloe,” Heather said, then walked down the alley, turned the corner and disappeared.

Shoveling the last of the pretzels into her mouth, Chloe leaned against the brick building. Prayers wouldn’t give her a bed or food. Heather might be able to give her both, though. She thought about that big purse, and what might be inside of it. Cash. Credit cards.

The baby gave her a little kick, so did guilt. She might be a whore, but she wasn’t a thief and never took what wasn’t hers. She pulled one of the water bottles from the backpack and took a long drink. Loving the way the cool liquid covered her throat, she decided she would remain in the alley. If Heather stopped by again tomorrow, she’d take what the woman offered.

But what would Heather expect in return? What did the woman gain from helping out a pregnant prostitute? She laughed and shook her head. Brownie points with God? A one way ticket to heaven? Whatever the fuck.

*

Dante looked at the merchandise the Chicago PD had confiscated from a house on Seventy-Fifth Street three nights ago. SWAT had raided the house looking for weapons, found them, along with tens of thousands of dollars of stolen property. After the cops had matched the serial numbers to some of the property, and they had linked back to items insured by the insurance agency that had hired CORE, he and Lola were told they could look through the rest of the merchandise. So far, only a handful of the items had been linked to the pawn shop robberies they’d been investigating.

“Maybe whoever robbed the pawn shops traded a few things in exchange for guns,” Lola suggested, and noted the serial number of an iPad.

“That makes sense to me,” he said, completely disinterested in this case. While he hated the busy work, tracking serial numbers, logging makes and models, photographing stolen property, then comparing them to the insurance claims made by the pawn shop owners, Lola thrived on it. She was convinced they were dealing with a very well organized theft ring, while he thought they were dealing with nothing but a couple of thieves.

He knew he wasn’t being fair to Lola. She was his trainee and he should show more enthusiasm for the case. Maybe if he wasn’t interested in a different set of thieves, his head might be on their investigation. But finding a couple of serial kidnappers who were stealing infants trumped stolen merchandise that could be replaced from a store.

“They held the pawn shop owners at gun point, and if the thieves hired extra guys, they’d need guns, too.”

“Right.”

She finished jotting something down, then closed her notebook. “You’re being awfully agreeable. Don’t you have anything to add?”

“Like what?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the one who’s supposed to be training me.”

His conscience kicked in and he knew she was right. He’d been doing a piss-poor job of training her. Sure, he’d shown her how they operated at CORE, but he hadn’t been acting like an investigator, at least not for the pawn shop case. Instead, his focus had been on the kidnappings and the evidence he and Jessica had been waiting for.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it. “Let’s take a look at warehouses and storage units that have had a lot of recent activity. We’ll want to focus on places that will take cash in place of using a credit card for a deposit.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “I know for a fact there are hundreds of self-storage units in this city. I had to rent one out for a bit while I was looking for a condo. Plus, if the thieves did rent a unit, they might’ve gone out to the burbs, so tack on those places and it could take months before we get anywhere.”

“Not if you narrow it down to places willing to take cash only. I’d skip major chains like U-Haul, U Store It or Public Storage, and focus on smaller companies for now. As for warehouses, let’s check into recently rented spaces. In certain parts of town, you can rent a twenty thousand square foot warehouse for anywhere from four to seven dollars a square foot. With the merchandise they’re moving, that cost would be minimal to them.”

She grinned and tapped the notepad against her thigh. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For finally showing up today. I mean, you’re obviously here, but I don’t think you’ve really been here. Make sense?”

Chuckling he nodded. “Yeah, it makes sense. Sorry, my mind hasn’t been on this case and that’s not fair to you.” He looked around the room. “I think we’re finished here. Let’s head to the office and go over what we have, then check into the storage unit-warehouse angle.”

They signed out and left Chicago’s 7th Police District, then climbed into Dante’s Camaro and headed for the CORE offices. “So, where’s your mind?” Lola asked.

“Come again?”

“If your mind isn’t on our investigation, then where is it?”

Jessica. The kidnappers. Missy Schneider. And exactly in that order. Now that Jessica had practically moved back into their home, he could check that box off and consider his personal life on the mend. As for the kidnappers and Missy Schneider, he couldn’t wipe them from his thoughts. He didn’t want to see another woman go the way of Missy. If she was linked to the kidnappers, the possibility of finding another woman murdered for her unborn child was, in his mind, strong. These people wanted a baby, and had the track record to prove it. Assuming they no longer had a child, they’d want to find one—fast. If they weren’t linked to Missy, they’d still likely be on the hunt for their next infant. But where were they hunting?

“My wife and I are working a side investigation,” he admitted. Since Lola had proven to be nosier than he’d originally thought, he figured he might as well explain why he hadn’t been at his best this past week.

“Your wife? Interesting.”

“How so?”

“You didn’t add a soon-to-be ex in front of wife. I take it things between you two are finally working out?”

Like old times, only better. He’d noticed, not only with himself, but with Jessica, that they’d both made an extra effort to show affection, to choose the right words, to be conscious of each other’s needs. It used to piss him off when Jessica would spend hours looking through Rachel’s program searching for leads on their daughter. Jessica still looked, but she’d set the timer on the stove clock and had limited herself to how long she spent online. Instead of immersing herself in missing kids, she was making an effort to take back her life. She’d even brought up her paint supplies from the basement and had set up her old, wobbly easel in the dining room where the natural lighting was best. Yes, they’d discussed the investigation, but not as much as he’d thought they would. Granted, they had nothing new to discuss, but even before Sophia had been taken, Jessica had tended to bring her work home. She’d stew or coax him into brainstorming a case she was working instead of relaxing and unwinding after a long day. Yeah, he loved the direction they were heading and looked forward to the day she ended the lease on her apartment and officially moved back home.

“Things are working out,” he said, and couldn’t stop from smiling.

“And this side investigation? Can you tell me about it? It has to be more interesting than looking into storage units and warehouses.”

“I thought you didn’t mind the busy work.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I understand it’s part of the investigation process. I guess I didn’t realize how much paperwork would be involved, though.”

After making a quick turn, he said, “Our case might be a little on the boring side, but I do think it’s a good one for you to help familiarize yourself with CORE and what we do.” Missy Schneider’s bloodied body moved to the forefront of his mind. “Trust me, there’s going to come a time when you’ll wish you were back to boring cases.”
 

“Is what you’re investigating with Jessica boring?”

“I wish,” he said, then gave her the short version. By the time he pulled into the parking garage, he’d finished giving Lola the details and parked the car. When she didn’t open her door, he glanced at her. Lola sat staring out the window, the notepad she’d carried out of the police station clutched to her chest. “Are you upset about something?”

“I’m beyond upset,” she said, her tone angry.

“I understand. This case has an emotional impact.”

When she faced him, he registered the uncertainty and frustration hardening her face and eyes. “It’s not just that. I mean, these people, what they’ve done…it’s beyond horrible.”

“Then what is it?”

 
“I don’t know that I could spend hours looking at missing children, let alone view the body of a woman who had her baby—” She looked away. “I just don’t know if I could do that.”

She was questioning herself and her capabilities as a CORE agent. He’d been down that road plenty of times and understood. “I’m not going to lie and tell you looking at a murder victim gets easier. It doesn’t. But knowing you’re the one doing everything possible to give that victim justice, or stop a murderer or kidnapper from hurting anyone else, does have its rewards.”

She drew in a deep breath, closed her eyes, and released it. Then she shook her head. “I can’t even find my calming energy right now.”

Grinning, he opened up the car door. “Sometimes that’s okay. It’ll make you hungrier to solve an investigation.”

“I might need you to remind me of that when I’m dealing with my own twisted assignments,” she said, and slipped out of the car.

“Don’t worry about something that hasn’t happened yet,” he said as they made their way to the elevator. “And don’t let self-doubt hold you back from doing your job. Just remember why you wanted to work for CORE. Actually, I never did ask—why
did
you want to work for CORE?”

With a shrug, she looked up and watched the elevator lights signal the floors they were passing. “It’s a long story and we only have two more floors to go,” she said, and finally looked at him. “Some other time.”

Curious, he’d definitely hold her to an explanation. Lola was a beautiful woman, with plenty of unique assets—martial arts, acting skills, knowledge of weapons and a background in criminology. She was young and, with her parents’ Hollywood connections, she could have probably chosen a safer, more lucrative line of work.

“Plan on it,” he said, just as the elevator doors slid open. When they entered CORE’s main offices, Rachel greeted them.

“I was just about to call you,” she said, catching her breath and holding her protruding stomach. “Damn, hang on.” She winced, and used one of the chairs in the foyer to steady herself.

Concerned, he took her by the elbow and sat her down. “Are you okay? Do you want me to find Owen?”

“Are you having contractions?” Lola asked, crouching in front of Rachel and taking her hand.

She exhaled and shook her head. “No. My OB says these are Braxton Hicks contractions, not the real deal. Thank God. I still have another six weeks before I’m due.” She rubbed her belly. “It’s too early for her to come.”

“Maybe I should call Owen anyway,” he suggested.

“He’s in Philadelphia for the next couple of days.”

Now he remembered. Owen had to attend the trial of an arsonist he’d been involved with apprehending last year. “Then maybe you should go home and relax.”

“Quit mothering me,” she said, and pushed herself out of the chair. “I’m fine. Besides, if I left now, who would tell you about what Walmart had to say?”

Although still concerned about Rachel, she’d definitely enticed him. “Please tell me it’s good news.”

“If you think video of one of the kidnappers purchasing the stroller the Lamoni boy was found in is good news, then today’s your lucky day.”

*

Jessica and Alex carried their sandwiches outside of the deli and seated themselves at a tiny table along the store’s front sidewalk. When Jessica bit into her turkey sandwich, she caught Alex staring at her, a grin on his face. After she finished chewing and swallowing, she asked, “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing.”

She raised the sandwich to her mouth. “Liar.”

He chuckled and picked up his pastrami on rye. “Maybe it makes me happy to see you actually eating again.”

“I eat.”

“No. You pick at your food.”

She looked at her sandwich and realized he was right. With a shrug she said, “I guess I have my appetite back.” Did she ever. Since living with Dante again, she’d forgotten how much she’d depended on his cooking, and how adept he was in the kitchen. The man could make a gourmet meal out of whatever he could find in the fridge, freezer and pantry. Last night, he’d turned a can of green beans—that she would have simply heated in a bowl in the microwave—into a fancy side dish worthy of a five star restaurant, cooking the green beans in white wine and olive oil, adding black pepper, minced garlic, chopped red bell peppers and crumbled feta cheese. Delicious.

“So I guess moving back home is working out for you.”

She set the sandwich on the wrapper and picked up her Diet Coke. “I didn’t move back in—yet.”

“Just crashing at Dante’s then?”

“Since we’re married and own our home, I wouldn’t call it
crashing
.”

“Booty call?”

She laughed. “Oh, my God, would you stop?”

“Well, I’ve been waiting for you to say something about what’s going on between you and Dante since Tuesday. Sorry, but if you’re not going to give me the details, I’ll have to draw my own conclusions.”