The Green Line (24 page)

ONCE
Marcus pulled out onto Lake Shore Drive, Abby stared out the window at the icy lake. Much to her amazement, people were running along the lakefront. It was about thirty-five degrees. Everyone in the city obviously appreciated the break from freezing temperatures. Chunks of ice were floating along the shoreline. Marcus was heading south, giving her a great view of the skyline and the Drake Hotel perched near the water’s edge. Sarah’s wedding. It seemed like years ago now. She missed Sarah.

Abby leaned back against the head rest and turned to Marcus. “I did a little more research on the Internet.”

“Abby, I thought you’d leave the investigating to me.”

She didn’t respond.

“What did you find?”

“Two things. First, I looked up Juan Domenz. Found a
Sun-Times
article from the time of his disappearance. Neighbors and relatives were interviewed. I didn’t really learn anything. It was a brief article. And no other stories out there.”

“But something’s on your mind, I can tell.”

“Yeah.” She turned to face him. “We’ve got at least three crooked cops—maybe four, if Reilly turns out to be crooked too—connected to the forfeitures of buildings that end up in the hands of Weber Properties. And the man I met, who showed up at my townhouse yesterday—”

“Thomas Callahan.”

“What?”

“Duvane just told me. He’s an ex-cop and his name is Thomas A. Callahan, the third.”

Abby nodded. “Well, that makes sense. I was going to say that I looked up the name
Trip
on the Internet because I remembered joking with him about that name. He gave me the sense that it was a nickname. Turns out Trip is short for ‘triple’ and often used as a nickname for boys who are the third. I was going to say you should search for cops with those kinds of names.

“Anyway, Trip,” she corrected herself, “Callahan, is connected to all these guys and I probably saw him leaving Reggie’s Bar.”

“Yeah.”

“Seems like anyone who could fight those forfeiture proceedings was eliminated. And he’s coming for me.”

Marcus put his hand on Abby’s and squeezed it. She looked at him.

“Hey. Don’t go there. Callahan doesn’t think you saw him at Reggie’s.”

“But then why—”

Marcus cut her off. “Come on. Let’s stop the speculating. One step at a time.” They were exiting onto Wacker. “Let’s just get to Weber Properties.” He followed it west and took a right on Lake Street.

The rattle and swoosh of the L train passing overhead brought Abby back to that night, just weeks ago when this all started. She looked over at Marcus, at his scar, at the face and those clothes that had once terrified her. What a nice surprise he had been. She turned back to the scenery and asked what they were looking for.

Marcus checked his note. “The address is 452 Fulton. We need to take this west to Union. And then I think it’ll be down a couple of blocks on the right.”

Abby pointed out the sign for Union and they took a right, just past Einstein Bagels.

It was an old street with patches of hundred-year-old brick exposed beneath the asphalt road. There were a lot of industrial properties, some run-down buildings, and some new construction. They found the address: an old warehouse. The brick looked hundreds of years old, with that faded and slightly chipped look, but the windows were new and a giant black steel and glass door graced the front. Brittle, thick ivy vines clung to the south wall. Marcus pulled over to the curb, just south of the driveway that led to the back of the building. He jumped out and jogged up to the small marquee by the door and read through the office names inside.

“It’s in there. Suite 404.” He was back in the driver’s seat, looking up at the building, counting the levels. “That’s the top floor. I’m going in.”

Abby stopped him. “Do you think it’s open? It’s Saturday.”

“Well, there are several cars in the lot back there.” He nodded toward the back of the building. “And this is real estate. Weekends are workdays as far as I know.”

“Wait.” Abby grabbed his coat. “What’s your plan here?”

“I’m just going to see if anyone’s there. If it’s Callahan, he doesn’t know who I am. I’ll just act like an interested buyer, see if I can get a look around. And if he’s not there, I can charm the receptionist,” he said, with raised eyebrows.

“Marcus, look at yourself. You look like a gangbanger. If I was working reception, you would scare the shit out of me.”

“Right.” He removed the big medallion and grabbed a sweater from the backseat.

Abby pulled her phone out and dialed. “Let’s see who’s up there first.” Then she spoke into the phone.“Chicago, Illinois. Weber Properties on Fulton.”

She looked over at Marcus. “It’s ringing.” A woman’s voice answered the phone. “Hello. I was just driving by one of your properties. The one on Lake Street. And I was wondering if there would be anyone available to discuss the details of that property?”

“Actually, my boss would be the only one to speak to and he’s out visiting our properties right now. Could I take your name and number to pass on?”

“Oh, I’ll just call back. Thank you.” Abby quickly hung up.

“Well?” Marcus had adequately transformed himself.

“Whoever is in charge is out viewing properties right now.”

He grabbed the door handle. “Okay, I’m going in.”

“Wait!”

“Abby, lock the doors. The windows are tinted. No one will even see you in here.” He sounded impatient now.

“Hold on.” She was looking at the building and motioned for him to do the same. A twenty-something woman with long hair and a fluffy white coat was leaving the building. The girl from the auction. “That’s her.”

He checked his watch. It was twelve forty-five. “Must be going to lunch. Stay put, I’m just going to check it out.”

Before she could even protest, he was out of the car and running for the door.

Abby studied the street, observing its diversity. It was definitely in the throes of urban renewal, that term she often read about in the real estate section. She sat for what seemed like hours, though it was only about fifteen minutes. Her stomach was growling. She hadn’t eaten a thing yet today. Neither had Marcus. The Einstein’s was just a block back. She did a quick check in her wallet, found a twenty, a pen, and an old receipt. For all she knew, he’d be in there another ten minutes. She wrote a note:
Went to Einstein’s to grab us some sandwiches. Come pick me up!
She grabbed the door handle. A car was pulling into the lot in front of her. She couldn’t see through its tinted windows. A red Porsche with spinning hubcaps. As it passed, she noticed the rhinestone license plate holder. It seemed so ridiculous. Like driving around in a giant gold chain. It pulled around to the back of the building and out of sight. Abby jumped out and jogged toward the bagel shop.

· · ·

THE
fourth floor of the building housed several businesses. Marcus quickly found the door to Weber Properties but the lock was new and it took a while to get in. He entered quietly and slowly, waiting for any sound, any evidence that someone was inside. It was a large space, maybe fifteen hundred square feet. The ceilings were at least twenty feet high with exposed duct work and beams and giant sky lights. In fact, there were no windows on the walls, but the light from above flooded the space. He spotted another door straight ahead, at the other end of the space. Looked like another exit. To his left, the exposed brick wall was lined with black-framed photographs of various buildings in the city. There must have been twenty of them. He stepped into the room, studying each photograph. All nicely rehabilitated structures. Several three-flats and several old buildings with commercial space on the ground floor and what he assumed were apartments above. No addresses were shown.

After studying the photographs, he turned back toward the front door. A glass-topped desk was just a few feet to the right of it. The secretary’s desk, he guessed. A giant oriental rug covered the dark wood floors. A frosted glass partition created a T in the middle of the space and another partition extended from the west wall toward the center. Marcus surveyed the space. Behind the center partition was a coffee station and a rest room, and on the other side there was a large, dark wood table with architectural drawings strewn about. Moving toward the right partition, he found a bigger glass-topped desk on the other side. A huge map of the west and southern parts of the city hung on the brick wall behind the desk. He noticed the United Center and Cellular Field right away. There were little pins stuck all over it. Flags and circles. There had to have been thirty of them. Mostly flags. He got in close and found Lake and Pulaski—the Quick Mart location. There was a flag pin marking the spot.

The desk was covered in papers, notes, files. And then he saw it: a file labeled
Reggie’s
. The bar had been seized. But the legal proceeding to forfeit the building had barely begun. He looked back at the giant map and found the cross streets for Reggie’s—it had a circle pin marking the location. He pulled out his camera and snapped shots of the map and zoomed in on the other circle pin location. He needed to find out more about what was there.

The front door opened.

Marcus turned quickly toward the door. It was him. Callahan.

He ducked, but the table, being glass, provided no retreat. Callahan was looking down, reading something, maybe mail, and heading toward the center partition. Marcus heard papers drop, footsteps, and then the rattle of bottles as a refrigerator door opened. He creeped toward the back, hoping to get an opportunity to get to the back door. The frosted partitions would block the view, but he could see Callahan’s form on the other side, so he knew that he too could be seen if Callahan looked this way. He crouched under the wood table in the center of the room. The phone rang.

Callahan walked back to the secretary’s desk and Marcus moved further around the center of the space, now behind the bathroom wall.

“Hey. Yeah. I just came back from there. I’m checking the mail. Okay. Let me go grab a sandwich first.”

Marcus looked around the wall. Callahan was facing the other direction. Marcus moved for the door, walking carefully on the hardwood floor that he feared would creak beneath him. He grabbed for the door as Callahan was hanging up. “Okay. I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.” Marcus was out. He took the back stairs down the four flights and pushed the giant steel door in front of him. He was now in the parking lot behind the building and a red Porsche was parked right in front of him. He ran around the back corner of the building toward the street, toward his car.

The front door of the building opened just before Marcus came into view. He froze. There was nowhere to hide. He leaned against the building and looked down. Callahan walked right past him, and then right past his car, while punching buttons on his cell phone.

Marcus continued toward his car, watching Callahan walk toward Lake Street. He threw open the car door and hopped inside. “Did you see that?”

He looked around the empty car.

· · ·

ABBY
was gathering her bags and change from the boy behind the counter when the bells on the door clang. She had just grabbed some napkins and straws at the side bar and was organizing her packages while walking toward the door when a five-dollar bill slipped from her hand. She put the food on the closest table and bent down to get it. Someone bent down with her and his hand grabbed the bill before she had a chance.

“Here you go!”

Abby looked up at the friendly voice while reaching out to accept her money. Their eyes met. She froze. It was as if all the sounds of the world fell away.

He looked at her with a curious face, like he was trying to place her. She waited without reaction, hoping he wouldn’t make the connection. Then he smiled. “Well, hello. Abigail, right? I wondered if I’d ever see you again.”

She didn’t know what to do. She stared at him.

He stood then and pulled her up with him. “Remember me?”

She nodded with caution.

“Well, I should hope so. I’d be really insulted, otherwise.” He smiled again. Like they shared something. The pounding of her heart felt so loud, she wondered if he could hear it. She knew she should speak but couldn’t get anything out.

“You never called me,” he teased.

Her stomach turned. Bile was rising in the back of her throat. Abby looked around the room. There were a lot of people here.

She faked a smile. “So sorry. I’ve gotta go!” She walked to the door without looking back and the bells rang out loudly as she pulled it open with force.

Marcus had pulled the car up to the front of the building. Abby jumped in. “Go, go!”

He pulled out onto Lake Street. “Abby, didn’t you promise to stay in the car?”

She was in a panic. “He saw me. He talked to me. He called me Abigail.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing! I didn’t know what to do! I ran the hell out of there.”

He tried to calm her. “It’s okay. He almost saw me too, but I got out. Come on, let’s go back to your house. I want to check some things online.”