Tommy had had an assault charge filed against him last year.
Kimmy had taken Tommy to the mall, forcing him to buy new clothes. She sent him into a store, waiting with Grace in the food court. When Tommy got back, he found Kimmy openly flirting with a group of college dipshits. Grace was a few seats over, sitting next to some stranger, telling him what crayons to use in her coloring book.
Tommy immediately sensed some seriously unpleasant vibes from the guy. Tommy stepped up to the table and told Grace to go sit by her mother. Kimmy turned and finally noticed Grace sitting so close to the guy. She was as surprised as Tommy, but not anywhere near as angry. The college boys eventually figured out that the husband was pissed and faded back into the mall.
“Take Grace home,” Tommy said, never taking his eyes off the guy. “I’ll catch up later.”
The guy decided it was time to go as well and went to lift his food tray. Tommy slammed it back to the table. Sweet and sour chicken and white rice flew up and scattered across the table. Tommy leaned in close. “Do you know my wife? Do you know my daughter? Do you know me?”
“What are you, some kinda nut? Fuck you,” the guy said.
Tommy snatched the tray and jabbed it into the guy’s throat. The guy made a gagging noise and fell backwards. Tommy swung the tray over his head and bashed it into the guy’s face. He was still pounding the man when mall security showed up and tackled him.
The guy decided to push his luck and press charges. When it went to trial, the guy’s lawyer managed to show only the beating from the surveillance video, not how close he had been sitting to Grace, not where his hand may have been.
Tommy was found guilty, and since he had no previous record of any consequence, he had to perform a few hundred hours of community service. But the blot on his record prohibited him from gaining any kind of custody. He only got to see Grace on the weekends and that was only because Kimmy wanted some time to herself.
Sometimes Tommy wondered if he’d ever find anybody else, maybe get married again someday, but he tried not to dwell on it. He knew a part of him would never be able to let go of Kimmy completely. He didn’t like it, but wasn’t going to kid himself. If she ever woke up and realized that he had always been the only one for her, he’d take her back in a heartbeat, no matter what she had said or done.
Still, he didn’t think that was likely. He knew she’d moved on, even if she did still show him affection once in a while. But that affection was probably closer to pity, like the feeling a supermodel might get when she sees a puppy in the rain.
Tommy kicked at the thin layer of slush as he headed for the Addison El stop. At least the snow was keeping most people inside. Tommy hated Wrigleyville. The muscleheads who crowded the sidewalks, the entire frat-house-row feel, the fake lovable losers posturing. And the whole upper-class thing irritated him.
He hurried across the street, dodging cabs and SUVs. It wasn’t much of a storm, but you never knew when a little snow could throw the CTA into chaos. The last thing he needed was to be late.
Tonight especially. Kimmy had arranged the whole thing. When Tommy had finally found out that she was seeing some mover and shaker down at City Hall, the wheels had already been set in motion, and he could either remain quiet like a good little cog or get ground up in the machine, crushed by the merciless juggernaut of Chicago politics.
So, for his daughter, he kept quiet. He was determined to be a good little cog, even if it killed him.
CHAPTER 5
9:04 PM
December 27
Ed and Sam marched through the blowing snow, looking for an unlocked door. If Ed was mad about his shoes, he didn’t say anything. To complain about the weather would go against all code of ethics if you grew up in the Midwest. You joked about the conditions, sure, loved to brag about it, of course, but you never, ever whined about it. The worse the weather got, the more superior you could feel over the punks in New York and the space cadet pussies in L.A.
They finally gave up and started out to the runways to flag down one of the luggage carriers. They flashed their badges. The woman didn’t even take off her ear protection, just jerked her head and the empty line of luggage cars she was towing. Ed and Sam hopped on. Ed’s phone beeped. He checked it and said, “Well, it’s official. This night has gone to shit. Carolina’s flight was cancelled. She won’t be in until tomorrow. Maybe.”
Sam shrugged. “Guess we should head for home. Get a good night’s sleep, be fresh for all the paperwork in the morning.”
They cracked up.
The baggage handlers showed them how to find their way through the winding conveyer belts and out into the terminal. The place was full of bright lights and plenty of law enforcement. Most of the local cops were in charge of keeping the reporters out of the terminal. They slipped under the yellow tape and found their Crown Vic blocked by a dizzying array of police cruisers, somber government sedans, and tech vans.
Sam shook his head. “Moses himself couldn’t part all that shit.”
“We need new wheels, that’s for damn sure.”
They hiked out in the snow again, until they found a young cop standing in front of his cruiser, diverting traffic into the parking garages, where drivers would be forced back onto the O’Hare Expressway, heading back into the city.
“Officer . . .” Sam squinted at the cop’s badge. “Reid? I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. My partner and I have an emergency, and we need this car. Immediately. You will continue your assignment, and you’re doing fine work, by the way, but when you are relieved, you will take our car back to Division One. Eleventh Street, you understand?”
“But . . .” The cop looked like he’d been ordered to suck his thumb in front of all the traffic.
“You questioning orders? Seriously?” Sam glared at Ed. “Can you fucking believe this?” He turned back to the cop, getting uncomfortably close. “You mean to tell me you’re actually going to interfere with superior officers when they are attempting to deal with an honest-to-God homicide emergency?”
“Son,” Ed said patiently, long accustomed to playing the good cop. “Do yourself a favor. Turn your keys over to this man. You do not want to piss him off.”
Officer Reid thought about it for a few more seconds and said, “The keys are in the ignition.” Ed climbed into the driver’s seat while Sam stretched out in the passenger’s. The cop tapped on the driver’s window. Ed hit the button and the window slid down. Officer Reid leaned in, trying to be as intimidating as possible, like he had pulled them over for some traffic violation. “You can’t just take a cruiser whenever you feel like it. I’m calling this in.”
“You better,” Ed said. “You damn well better follow procedure.” He sent the window back up, hit the lights and the siren too just for the hell of it, and sent cars scattering as they tore off down the crowded highway.
“Thought it was long overdue you and I sat down, face to face, without all the goddamn lawyers between us.” Lee leaned back, crossing his alligator-skin dress shoes on the corner of his desk and lacing his fingers behind his head. He had a face chiseled for politics. Strong. Handsome. Reassuring. Tonight he wore his concerned, caring look. “Wanted to make sure you understood how this deal works.”
Tommy knew how the deal worked.
Lee didn’t wait for Tommy. “You grew up here. You know how things happen in this city. You’re either scratching somebody’s back or you’re out on your ass.”
Tommy nodded, let his gaze wander around Lee’s office. Cornelius Shea, “Lee” to friends and enemies alike, was the youngest commissioner of Streets and Sanitation in the history of the city of Chicago. He had enough muscle to snag an office on the second-to-top floor of City Hall. A large photograph of Lee and then Mayor Daley Jr. hung directly behind his desk. More photos of Lee shaking hands with VIPs were hung around the opulent office. Most citizens wouldn’t have gotten this far, and Tommy understood why Lee hadn’t taken down the pictures of himself with former Illinois governors, considering three out of the last four were currently behind bars for corruption. Lee preferred instead to conduct press conferences out in front, with City Hall itself serving as a dramatic backdrop, or give interviews as he walked the streets of one of the quieter neighborhoods, proving he was just a man of the people.