Kiss Her Goodbye

16

Half a city block was cordoned off. Chicago PD had been generous with the yellow tape, steering the press and any curious bystanders clear of the immediate area. A couple of police choppers hovered high overhead, keeping the sky clear of pesky newscopters and their telephoto lenses.

The only pedestrians who remained were the handful off the street who had directly witnessed the incident, and the busload of passengers who now waited on the sidewalk as police technicians scurried about both in and outside the bus.

Donovan and A.J. pulled in next to one of the half dozen patrol cars parked just outside the tape. Al Cleveland, a member of Donovan’s team, was there to greet them as they climbed out.

Donovan eyed the bus. “What are we looking at?”

Cleveland waved a hand toward the flurry of activity around them. “All I’ve been able to get so far is Gunderson snatched a schoolgirl.”

A.J. frowned. “Schoolgirl? What the hell’s he want with a schoolgirl?”

What indeed? Donovan thought. This wasn’t something you’d expect from a guy like Gunderson. His first public appearance in over a month and he snatches a kid? It didn’t make sense.

Then again, his wife, Sara, had been a schoolgirl when Gunderson had first come into her life. Maybe the sick son of a bitch was shopping for a replacement.

“Are we sure it’s our guy?”

“Witnesses recognized him from all the media coverage,” Cleveland said. “But don’t expect much cooperation from the CPD. They’re looking for the gold star on this one.”

“Who’re we talking to?”

“Fashion plate with the comb-over.” Cleveland gestured toward the sidewalk where a rumpled, balding plainclothes detective was interviewing a witness. It must’ve been fifty-six degrees out, with a windchill of God knew what, and the guy was sweating. “Name’s Fogerty.”

Donovan turned to A.J. “I thought Ron Stallard was in on this.”

A.J. shook his head. “Just a courtesy call. He warned me that we might run into a little resistance.”

Donovan sighed. “This should be a treat. You know the drill.”

He took his badge from his coat pocket, ducked under the yellow tape, and crossed the blacktop toward the sidewalk.

Lack of cooperation between branches of law enforcement seemed like a cliche reserved only for pulp novels and bad television, but nine times out of ten Donovan found it to be true. In his experience, cops both city and federal were a territorial bunch. What they hated most was some dildo trying to encroach on their jurisdiction.

Even within departments the competition for case control was stiff. Donovan had seen it time and again during his years on the local force. In the end, everyone followed the proper chain of command, but they rarely did it willingly or quietly. Add the invasion of outsiders like the ATF to the mix and the potential for verbal fireworks increased tenfold.

Like it or not, it was a reality that had to be dealt with. Donovan’s solution was to take command immediately. He approached the sweating cop, held up his badge. “Jack Donovan. You in charge here?”

The cop, Fogerty, was busy talking to an elderly witness in a Cubs cap. He looked up at the sound of Donovan’s voice, the sight of the badge provoking a weary sigh.

“Look,” he said, “I already told Agent Numbnuts your invitation’s rescinded. This is a city bus on city property. It ain’t your party.”

“It is when Gunderson’s the guest of honor.”

Fogerty turned toward him fully now. “Aren’t you the chuckleheads who lost him in the first place? Look me up when you get your head outta your ass.”

He was about to return to his witness when Donovan grabbed his meaty arm and pulled him off to the side.

“Hey, hey-what the fuck?” he squealed, wrenching the arm free.

Donovan nodded toward A.J. “You see my partner over there?” A.J. had his cell phone out and was busy punching a number. “Right now he’s dialing Chief Dearborn’s private line. In about two minutes your division commander’ll be getting a call wanting to know why one of his detectives is waving his dick at the senior member of a federal task force.”

Fogerty eyed him defiantly. “It’s a big dick. Maybe I like showing it off.”

“Good,” Donovan told him. “Because what we have here is a circle jerk whether you like it or…” He paused, his attention drawn away from Fogerty to a cluster of shell-shocked girls standing on the sidewalk just outside the bus. Each wore a white blouse, blue skirt, and matching cardigan.

A school uniform.

Bellanova Prep’s uniform.

He swiveled, stared at the bus, the destination placard like a swift, hard kick to the groin: Lincoln Park.

Oh, Jesus.

He turned back to Fogerty. “The girl Gunderson snatched-what was her name?”

“Look, you wanna observe, fine. But stay the hell out of my-”

A surge of adrenaline overtook Donovan. He grabbed Fogerty, swung him toward the nearest lamppost, and shoved him against it, hard. “What’s her fucking name?”

Fogerty’s eyes got big. He fumbled in his pocket and brought out his watch pad. “Uh, Jessica something…” He quickly leafed through it until he found what he was looking for. “Jessica Lynne-”

“Donovan,” Donovan said, knowing the answer before it had even passed Fogerty’s lips. He released Fogerty and stepped back, his knees weak. It was an effort to remain standing.

No. God, no.

Not Jessie.

“Hey, you okay? You don’t look so hot.”

A lump of bile formed in Donovan’s throat, choking him as he tried to respond. Before he could get a word out, his cell phone rang. Fumbling it from his coat pocket, he clicked it on and raised it to his ear.

It took him a moment to find his voice. “Jack Donovan.”

“Daddy?”

“Jesus Christ-Jessie?”

Please tell me she’s all right. Please tell me she’s Her words came out in a jumbled rush, her voice high and thin and filled with terror. “Daddy, he says he’ll hurt me. He says he’ll hurt me if you don’t-” Donovan heard a noise and Jessie yelped. After a quick flash of static, a familiar voice filled his ear.

“Hiya, hotshot. Guess who’s got himself a new girl? Not as sweet as my Sara, but she’ll do in a pinch.”

The words barely registered in Donovan’s brain. His world was spinning. “You motherfucker…”

“Now, now, Jack, that’s two demerits for bad manners. You’re only allowed one more, so be careful what you say.”

This isn’t happening. Tell me this isn’t happening. “If you touch her,” Donovan said, his voice shaking, “I swear to Christ I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Hunt me down like the dirty dog I am? Oops, too late. Special Agent Jack and the United States of Fuck You have already put that plan in motion. You see, hotshot, short of blowing my brains out there’s not a whole lot you can do to me that’s worse than what you’ve already done. So the name of the game here is clarity. That’s what I want. I hang on to the pea pod long enough for you to understand, with clarity, what you did to my Sara.”

Donovan tried to breathe. Stay calm, he told himself. Figure a way out of this. “Listen to me, Alex. Let her go. We can make a deal. Anything you want.”

Gunderson laughed. “You gonna forgive me all my sins, Jack? Huh? You gonna work up some miracle cure to solidify the mush that used to be Sara’s brain? You gonna bring back my kid? I don’t think we’ll be making any deals. But I will make you a promise. If and when your schoolgirl comes home-and I’m stressing the if here-you can be absolutely certain of one thing: she won’t be the same sweet Jessie we all know and love.”

The line clicked in Donovan’s ear.

He lowered the phone, trembling.

Donovan searched the street, not even sure what he was looking for, an overwhelming feeling of dread doing a kamikaze barrel-roll through his body. His head felt hollow, as if he’d just been smacked with a two-by-four.

How could he have been so careless? He knew what Gunderson was capable of. He should’ve seen this coming, should’ve stopped it before it had a chance to start.

All along he’d assumed that Gunderson would come after him. But he’d been wrong, and his mistake was inexcusable.

His mistake could mean Jessie’s life.

Just this morning he had looked in on her as she slept, amazed by how quiet she was. No moans, no soft snores, no movement. She was so silent that for a moment he had wondered if she was alive; had put his hand under her nose just to make sure she was breathing.

As he looked down at that composed, expressionless face, he’d thought of Sara Gunderson lying motionless on the sidewalk so many weeks ago. He hadn’t known whether she was alive or dead at the time, but he did know one thing: wherever she’d gone, she wasn’t likely to come back. And she would never again feel her father’s embrace.

Donovan had vowed then and there never to let his own daughter get away from him again. He would woo Jessie back into his life, and if nothing else, she would always know that he loved her.

Now, as he stood trembling in the street, her terrified cries reverberating through his head, he thought about their volatile reunion and wondered if that message had gotten across. Because now more than ever, she needed to know it.

Hang on, kiddo.

I’m coming to get you.