Part 11 (1/2)
”f.u.c.k you. I say we see where this takes us.”
I looked down at the case files. The face of Billy Scranton looked back at me. Murdered at age thirteen.
”So we're going to take a pa.s.s on finding out who actually killed these kids?”
”If something pops about the killer, we'll go for it, of course. But for right now let's focus on what we do know. Someone in Cook County was in the business of framing innocent men and putting them up on death row.”
”You tell Sarah about your theories?” I said.
”I gave her the basics.”
”What about Z?”
”What about her?”
”Will she buy any of it?”
”She might not have a choice.”
”What does that mean?”
Havens was about to respond when his laptop pinged with an e-mail. A few seconds later, my cell phone buzzed with a text. They were both from Z. It was Sunday morning, and she wanted us back in her cla.s.sroom. Within the hour.
19.
Sarah was waiting outside Fisk. She hugged both of us, giving me what felt like an extra squeeze and a wink. When it came to emotions, I was good at hiding them. Sarah Gold wasn't going to be a problem. At least that's what I told myself.
”You been here long?” Havens said.
”Five minutes.” Sarah took a sip of her coffee. ”What does Z want?”
I shook my head. ”It's gotta be about the woods.”
”d.a.m.n.”
”Relax,” Havens said. ”I've got a plan.”
We talked for ten minutes, then headed into cla.s.s. Z raised her head as we filed in.
”Close the door, Mr. Joyce.”
I did. Z took off her gla.s.ses and stared me down as I found a seat.
”I called you in this morning because there's something urgent we need to discuss.” Z kept her eyes fixed on yours truly as she spoke.
Havens cleared his throat. ”What is it?”
Z pulled out a plastic bag and held it pinched between her fingers. Inside was a wrinkled business card. ”Recognize this?”
”We can't see it,” Havens said.
She laid the Baggie flat on her desk. I got up from my seat and walked to the front of the room. Sarah and Havens crowded close beside me. The business card was bent at the edges and smudged with dirt, but I could make out the print just fine. The Medill crest. My name. My cell phone number.
”Mr. Joyce?” Z played a hand along the sealed edge of the bag as she talked. There was an orange sticker on the bag. Her fingers prevented me from reading it.
”That's my card,” I said.
”Any idea where it was found?”
”Looks like I might have dropped it somewhere.”
”Please sit down. All of you.”
She waited until we'd taken our seats. Then she walked to the back of the room and opened the door. A cop came in. He didn't identify himself as a cop. He didn't need to. He had the look. Long and lean. Dark. Cool without trying. The kind of look actors in cop movies strive for. And never quite achieve. Except, of course, for De Niro.
The cop took a seat, positioning himself where he could keep an eye on all of us. Z walked back behind her desk and remained standing as she spoke.
”This is Chicago detective Vince Rodriguez. He works with Homicide.” She let the last word rattle around the room for a couple of seconds before continuing. ”He brought Mr. Joyce's business card to my attention. Ian, we need to talk about this, but I thought I'd give you, Sarah, and you, Jake, the opportunity to sit in or leave. As you see fit.”
Sarah s.h.i.+fted in her seat. Havens clasped his hands behind his head and stared a bullet at Z. Rodriguez took it all in without ever moving his eyes.
”I think we're good where we are,” Havens finally said. ”As long as it's all right with Ian. And the detective.”
Rodriguez floated to his feet. I could see the gun on his hip. A detective's star was clipped beside it.
”Ms. Zombrowski wanted you all here because she thinks you might be involved as a group. And this approach might save some time. I'm not sure, but we'll see. Ian ...” Rodriguez turned to me. His face was largely impa.s.sive, except his eyes, which were darkly lit and relentlessly patient. It wasn't an easy face to talk to ... especially when you were about to lie.
”Yes, sir?”
”The card. Do you remember losing it?”
”No, sir. I have a stack they gave us at the beginning of the quarter, so it would be tough.”
Rodriguez chewed on that brilliant morsel for a bit. ”No idea where we might have found it?”
I shrugged and turned my palms up. Rodriguez looked to my two cla.s.smates. They didn't offer much help. The detective sighed.
”Your card was found in Caldwell Woods.” His eyes caught mine at the mention of the woods. ”You know where that is?”
Havens cleared his throat. ”We know where the woods are, Detective.”
”Mister?”
”Havens. Jake Havens.”
”You know where the woods are?”