Chapter 7 - The Chicago Trap
The police SUV tore down Route 9, its engine screaming as Brody pushed the heavy vehicle through the blinding sheet of rain.
Beside me, Brody’s radio was buzzing with constant updates from the state police tactical team and the Cook County Homicide division, who had just raided Daniel’s secondary hotel room in downtown Chicago.
"Brody, this is Chicago PD," a rasping voice squawked through the speaker. "We searched the hotel room at the Drake. It was staged. He set up a automated laptop script to make it look like he was logged into the conference network while he drove back to Ohio yesterday afternoon."
"Understood," Brody said into his hand mic. "Did you find any physical records regarding the Evelyn Vance case?"
"Affirmative," the Chicago detective reported. "We located a safety deposit box key hidden in his suitcase lining. We executed an emergency warrant at First National Chicago. Brody... you were right. He held a secondary life insurance policy on Evelyn, plus a forged custody transfer agreement naming him sole guardian."
"And the cause of death report?"
"The original Cook County coroner report was modified," the voice revealed grimly. "The autopsy showed signs of asphyxiation prior to entering the water. It wasn't an accidental drowning, Brody. It was a staged homicide."
I closed my eyes, gripping the dashboard until my fingernails dug into the leather trim.
He had killed her. He had choked Evelyn to death on their boat, dumped her body into the freezing waters of Lake Michigan, collected $1.5 million in insurance money, and then spent three years convincing their five-year-old daughter that her mother abandoned her because she was "fat and greedy."
It was a cruelty so vast, so systematic, it bordered on demonic.
"Five minutes to the logging road turnoff," Brody said, flipping his high beams onto maximum brightness.
The headlights cut through the thick black foliage of the forest reserve. Up ahead, rusting in the weeds, was the steel framework of the abandoned fire watchtower. Just past it, almost completely concealed by overgrown pine branches and wild blackberries, was a narrow gravel track leading down into a dark ravine.
Brody killed the police sirens and red lights, dropping the SUV into four-wheel drive as we bumped onto the rough gravel track.
"We go in quiet," Brody instructed. "He knows the woods, but he doesn't know we have his exact coordinates. If he hears sirens, he might escalate."
"He won't hurt her if he thinks he can still run," I whispered, my eyes scanning the thick black trunks of the pine trees rushing past the window. "He's a narcissist. He thinks he's smarter than everyone else. He'll hold her as a bargaining chip."
We crawled down the winding trail for half a mile until the trees opened up into a small, marshy clearing.
At the far edge of the clearing sat the cabin.
It was a low, dark structure built from rough-hewn pine logs, with a rusted tin roof. A single, dim yellow light flickered in one of the small side windows.
parked the SUV behind a thick cluster of hemlock trees, fifty yards out. Two other unmarked police vehicles pulled up quietly behind us, five tactical officers in dark body armor stepping out into the mud, their short-barreled rifles held at the low-ready position.
"Clara," Brody said, turning to me in the dark interior of the cabin. "You stay in this vehicle. That's an order."
"Brody—"
"Listen to me!" Brody snapped, grabbing my shoulder with a firm, protective grip. "If you go out there and he sees you, it disrupts his focus. He needs to see police officers, not the woman he feels betrayed by. Let my team clear the structure."
I looked at the small yellow light in the cabin window. Somewhere inside that dark, cold room, my stepdaughter was sitting on a dirt floor, shaking with terror, waiting for the monster who had ruled her life to decide her fate.
"Okay," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Okay. Bring her out."
Brody unlatched his door and stepped out into the rain, gesturing to his tactical team.
"Alpha team on the front door," Brody whispered into his headset. "Bravo team take the rear. Move in on three..."
I watched through the rain-streaked windshield as the dark figures moved silently across the clearing like shadows. They took their positions on either side of the heavy oak front door.
Officer Miller reached out, testing the brass handle.
It swung open silently. Unlocked.
Miller signaled to Brody. clear.
They flooded into the cabin, their tactical flashlights sweeping through the interior windows in frantic, crisscrossing beams of white light.
Five seconds passed. Then ten.
Then Brody’s voice came crashing through the radio speaker on the dashboard, loud and frantic:
"CLEAR! STRUCTURE IS EMPTY! I REPEAT, STRUCTURE IS EMPTY!"
My heart plummeted into an abyss.
I slammed the SUV door open and ran across the muddy clearing, ignoring the rain blinding my eyes, stepping right through the open doorway of the cabin.
"Clara, get out of here!" an officer shouted.
I didn't listen. I swept my eyes over the small, single-room cabin.
There was a rusted wood stove, two wooden chairs, and a bare mattress on the floor. On the small table near the window sat a half-eaten sandwich, a flashlight... and a small, pink plastic dinosaur hairpin.
Lily’s hairpin.
I ran over to the table, picking up the small plastic dinosaur, pressing it against my chest.
"He was here," I cried out, looking at Brody. "He was here ten minutes ago!"
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Brody was kneeling near the floor near the rusted wood stove. He held his tactical light over a heavy, iron-ringed trapdoor set directly into the wooden floorboards.
"He didn't run into the woods," Brody said, his voice cold as ice. "He went down."
