all the rest he could get to clear his head. The criminals hadn’t gotten the memo. The early-morning call commanding his presence had set the tone for his not-so-good mood, and he noticed the scowl on his face had others eyeing him warily.
Despite his disposition, the Bureau of Detectives was like his second home and a place he liked. He was comfortable there. As he moved through the narrow halls, past his own office and desk, toward the other end of the building, he felt his bad mood beginning to lighten, despite knowing that whatever had necessitated his presence couldn’t be good. A commotion at another desk stalled his steps and pulled at his attention. A young man in ill-fitting jeans that hung too low on his narrow hips and an army green military jacket had become combative, thrashing about angrily. Armstrong felt his body tense as three other officers reacted swiftly. He stood staring until he was satisfied that everything was under control, the man in handcuffs now behaving like he had some sense.
Resuming his trek, he came to a stop at the end of the hallway and the corner office with a perfect view of the I-290 highway. Armstrong knocked on the door of his lieutenant’s office. There was just a brief moment of pause before the other man’s voice beckoned him inside. Pushing the door open, Armstrong stepped through the entrance and closed it behind him. He greeted his older brother warmly.
“Good morning, Lieutenant.”
Parker Black lifted his eyes from the papers he was reviewing. He gave his brother a nod. “Detective. How goes it?”
Armstrong shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’m tired and I was supposed to sleep in. Until you called bright and early. So, what’s this emergency?”
Parker stood and moved from behind his large oak desk. He grabbed a manila folder from the desktop as he gestured for his brother to take a seat. He joined him in the leather wingback chairs that decorated his office. Armstrong knew that side by side they looked like bookends, their familial resemblance marked by chiseled features and solid frames. Both wore meticulously tailored wool suits, one in black and the other in navy blue, with bright white dress shirts and complementing neckties. Black dress shoes polished to high shines completed both their looks.
“Last night the body of a young woman was discovered in a Dumpster down by Montrose Beach. Her name was Crystal Moore. She was a student at DePaul University, and then her parents reported her missing after she didn’t show for classes. That was about six months ago. It appears she flew back from the Czech Republic just a few days ago. However, we can’t find where she exited the country. According to Interpol, she was in the company of a known Czech gang member who has ties to a European prostitution ring. We believe he also has ties to the Balducci crime family here in Chicago. We have him in custody, but it looks like he has an airtight alibi. We can only hold him for a few more hours, and then he’ll be back on a plane before the week is out.”
Armstrong nodded. “Who picked up the case?”
“The Forty-First Precinct. Every indication says it’s related to the others you’ve been investigating, so the commander dropped it on my desk for your joint task force. They want you to solve these murders and shut down this trafficking ring, and they want it done now. The press is starting to run with this story, and we’re not looking good.” He passed him the folder he’d been holding. “Do what you do best, please.”
“I appreciate the trust, big brother!” And Armstrong did. Theirs was the First Family of law enforcement in Chicago, he and his siblings following their parents into law enforcement. They had big shoes to fill and failure wasn’t an option. He had worked hard to earn his spot in the Detectives Bureau, nothing but an opportunity given to him. Most assumed his family name had made things easier, but such had hardly been the case. He and Parker both had been made to fight twice as hard for their respective positions; needing to do far more than their counterparts to prove themselves capable. This case was proving to be a thorn in both their sides and despite his best efforts, Armstrong was no closer to solving it than when the first few bodies had landed on their doorstep and he’d been tasked with the case.
Parker seemed to read his mind. “I know you won’t embarrass your parents.”
Armstrong laughed.
Parker moved back to his desk and tore the top sheet from a notepad. He passed the page, and his scribblings, to his brother as he continued. “They’re expecting you down at the Twenty-Fifth Precinct to meet up with the newest addition to your team. You’re being partnered with a Detective Daniel Winstead from Atlanta, who’s joining the task force this morning. They call him Danny or Dan. I think that’s what they said. He’s meeting you there. I’m still waiting for his paperwork to come over, so I can’t tell you anything about him. I’ll send you his file when I get my hands on it.”
“Partner?” Armstrong came to an abrupt halt. “I don’t do partners, you know that.” His gaze narrowed, his stance tensing. Even as a child Armstrong hadn’t played well with others. He was a loner by nature and didn’t trust anyone easily. His last partner, a rookie transferred from another division, had almost gotten him shot, the guy’s smart mouth pissing off the wrong person. He preferred to do things on his own and this was no exception. The look on his face expressed his displeasure but his brother wasn’t moved.
“You’ll do this one. They say this guy’s a bit of a wild card, but that’s all I know. The commander wants someone who can keep him in line. We can’t risk his becoming a casualty on these streets. You’re the best man for the job, and you know it.”
Armstrong blew a heavy sigh, warm breath blowing hotly over his lips. His first instinct was to balk at the request, but he would never challenge his brother’s authority, nor did he want to be a disappointment to him. His success or failure reflected back on his family, so he bit back the snarky comment on the tip of his tongue. He moved toward the door, shaking his head from side to side. “You owe me,” he said instead.
“Put it on my tab.”
As Armstrong made his exit, his brother called after him. He paused, turning around to look directly at his family member.
“Make us proud,” Parker said. “And keep your head down, please. Our mother will hurt me if anything happens to you. That’s an order, Detective.”
Armstrong nodded. “Yes, sir, Lieutenant!”
* * *
Danni Winstead paced the conference room floor. She’d spent the last hour studying the images pasted to the wall. Pictures of young girls and women who’d either disappeared and were still missing, or had not been found alive. One woman was one too many lost to a black-market business that traded bodies like children used to trade Pokémon cards. Blowing a soft sigh, she trailed a finger across one of the glossy images. It infuriated her and she was anxious to get to work, desperate to be busy with the case.
Her eyes darted back and forth at the flood of activity on the other side of the large glass wall. It had taken collecting on a half dozen favors and promising a dozen more to get assigned to this task force. Her superiors in Atlanta hadn’t been overly supportive, but then that was her own fault. Although great at her job, Danni was known to sometimes ignore procedure to accomplish her tasks. She knew she had a brilliant analytical mind, and people often underestimated her. She brought a skill set to the table that intimidated most men, and her brash mannerisms sometimes threw people off guard. When their expectations didn’t mesh with her actions, they were surprised more times than not. Even though her tactics most always got the criminals, they had also gotten her in trouble more times than she cared to count. When people looked at her, they saw sugar and spice, her petite frame and youthful appearance belying her strength. But she couldn’t afford to not be taken seriously. Sometimes nice wasn’t an option,
