A normal parent dealing with a murdered child would usually beg the police to find whoever was responsible.
Rochelle Doran’s reaction had followed that pattern, but Richard’s words had been very different.
Instead of saying the police needed to handle a problem, he had said that they would handle it.
Antonio Dawson frowned as he thought about Adrian Knight’s observation.
After several seconds, he gave a reluctant nod and said, “Yeah.
Richard’s definitely keeping something from us.” Unfortunately, until the Dorans decided to explain themselves, there wasn’t much more Adrian and Antonio could get from them.
At the same time, other members of Intelligence were canvassing the Rogers Park neighborhood where Jeremy had disappeared.
They moved from house to house asking the same questions about Saturday evening.
“Around six-thirty or seven, did you hear anything unusual?
Screaming, yelling, a door slamming, anything like that?” One woman shook her head firmly.
“No.
Nothing.” When Jesse asked whether her windows had been open because of the warm weather, she nodded and insisted she would have heard something serious happening outside.
“We keep an eye on the kids around here,” she explained.
“If somebody had been screaming or causing trouble, people would’ve noticed.” Jesse then asked whether she had seen unfamiliar adults approaching children or anyone behaving strangely, but the woman again shook her head.
“No strangers handing out candy or anything like that,” she said.
“Nothing seemed wrong.” Another neighbor gave almost the same answer.
When Alvin Olinsky asked whether she knew the Doran family, she replied, “Of course.
I’ve lived here most of my life.” Before he could continue questioning her, however, she apologized and quickly excused herself.
The Intelligence Unit repeated the process with several more residents and received almost identical responses.
Nobody admitted seeing Jeremy leave with anyone, hearing an argument, or noticing a suspicious vehicle.
By the end of the canvass, Jesse stood on the sidewalk and let out a frustrated breath.
“So nobody saw anything and nobody heard anything,” he said.
Alvin remained quiet as he looked toward the Doran house.
“That’s not what bothers me.” Jesse glanced at him.
Alvin’s expression stayed calm.
“I don’t think there’s nothing to tell us.
I think there’s nothing they want to tell us.” Something had happened in that neighborhood, or at least several residents seemed to believe there were things better handled privately.
Tight-knit communities could sometimes become protective of their own and reluctant to involve outsiders, including the police.
Whatever the reason, the neighborhood canvass had produced no usable witness.
With nothing more to gain there, everyone returned to the 21st District Intelligence Unit.
Kevin Atwater placed a document on the main table and said, “I got the list of registered sex offenders living near Rogers Park.” The team immediately began comparing names, addresses, and prior records.
Adrian brought over another report from the medical examiner.
“Forensics found skin tissue under Jeremy’s fingernails.
He fought whoever attacked him.” He placed the document beside Kevin’s list and added, “No evidence of sexual assault.” Jesse leaned against the edge of a desk.
“That’s what makes this weird.
That neighborhood is close-knit, and people notice who’s coming and going.” He shook his head before adding, “If somebody planned to grab a kid, that’s a risky place to do it.” Adam Ruzek looked toward the case board.
“Maybe it wasn’t planned.” Everyone glanced at him.
Adam shrugged.
“Could’ve been an opportunity.
Somebody sees Jeremy alone and makes a decision right there.” Before anyone could develop the theory further, Mouse suddenly spun around in his chair.
His eyebrows had lifted as something appeared on the computer screen.
“Hey, look what I found.” The others immediately gathered around.
“This guy moved here about a year ago,” Mouse said.
“Came from Salt Lake City.
There’s a prior complaint in his record connected to a sex offense investigation, but I’m not finding a current Chicago registration.” That immediately made the name worth checking.
People subject to sex-offender registration requirements generally had obligations to keep their information current when relocating, and someone with an incomplete or missing local record could attract law-enforcement attention.
Whether it had anything to do with Jeremy’s murder was another question entirely.
Antonio leaned closer to the screen.
“Name?” “Darren Woodhall.” Mouse printed the profile and handed it over.
Antonio looked through the first page before tilting his chin toward Adrian.
“Come on.” Adrian stood.
“Let’s check him out.” A short time later, Adrian and Antonio arrived near Halsted Street on Chicago’s North Side.
The neighborhood was busy, with restaurants, shops, apartments, and office buildings packed along the streets.
Darren’s current location turned out to be considerably more upscale than either detective had expected.
The restaurant they entered was the kind of place where dinner for one person could easily run several hundred dollars.
Adrian barely noticed the prices because he had spent his entire life around money, while Antonio looked around at the tailored suits, expensive watches, and polished dining room with a much less impressed expression.
“This is how the other half lives, huh?” Adrian pretended not to hear the complaint.
They crossed through the restaurant and stepped onto an elegant outdoor terrace overlooking part of the city.
Diners sat at carefully arranged tables while servers moved quietly between them.
Adrian scanned the area until Antonio spotted the man from Mouse’s photograph.
A thin man sat alone at one of the tables.
He wore a light gray dress shirt with a brown striped tie, and his hair had been combed neatly into place.
Everything about his appearance suggested someone careful about presenting himself well.
Antonio and Adrian approached.
“Darren Woodhall?” Antonio held up his badge where the man could clearly see it.
Darren turned toward the two detectives and looked from the badge to their faces.
His expression showed confusion rather than immediate fear.
“Officers?” He set down what he was holding.
“Is there something I can help you with?” 500 = +1 Chapter] [Review Goal: 10 = +1 Chapter]