The Innocence Game Read online

  “You don’t think I’ve been wondering that myself? Read the file.”

  Havens went to get our drinks. I picked through newspaper clippings from the murder. At the bottom of the pile, I found the original police report filed on Skylar Wingate’s disappearance. Clipped to the back was a photo from the crime scene. A shallow hole in the ground, a small white body bag beside it. I ran a finger over the picture. Then I put it aside and began to read.

  3

  Skylar Wingate was last seen alive by his older brother, Bobby. He told police Skylar left St. Augustine Elementary School on the city’s Northwest Side around 3:45 p.m., and walked south on Lemont Avenue. Skylar was headed home, less than a mile away. Skylar’s mom thought her youngest was with his older brother all afternoon and didn’t become concerned until Bobby showed up, alone, at a little after six. Fifty of Chicago’s finest went door-to-door, searching the white-bread neighborhood on foot until well past midnight. Skylar was described as four foot two, weighing sixty-three pounds, wearing gray pants and a black-and-white-striped shirt. Havens had underlined the last fact with a pen.

  Detectives questioned Skylar’s family and friends in the first few hours of the disappearance and came up with nothing. According to the Trib, it was three days later that a hiker found Skylar’s remains in the Cook County forest preserve a mile away. Animals had dug up the body. A preliminary autopsy showed the boy had been stabbed repeatedly, strangled, and drowned before he went in the ground. I stopped reading as Havens came back with a fresh round.

  “Well?” he said.

  “I skimmed the police report and a couple of articles.”

  “You see the detail on the shirt?”

  I nodded.

  “This case was big at the time,” Havens said. “You remember it?”

  “I was eight.”

  “Doesn’t matter. White kid, Catholic school, nice neighborhood. A lot of pressure to make an arrest.” Havens glanced out the window and checked his watch. “Shit, I gotta run.”

  “We just got our drinks.”

  Havens drained half his pint in one go, gathered up his research, and stood. “See you tomorrow, Joyce. Do yourself a favor and forget about Gold. Make life a lot simpler for all of us.”

  I watched him walk out the door and down Sherman. The bar was packed now, and a gaggle of women hovered close by, ready to pounce on the booth once I’d vacated. I took a sip of my beer, but my heart wasn’t in it. I smiled at the women as I got up and presented them with their prize. One of them even smiled back. The other three pushed past, calling for the waitress and settling in. I wandered out of Nevin’s and squinted against a harsh, slanting light. It was just past six, still a couple of hours before darkness dropped over Lake Michigan. I walked down the street, thinking about Jake Havens. A horn beeped once from under an overpass. Sarah Gold sat in the front seat of a black Audi. She hustled me over with a wave of her hand.

  “Get in,” she said. I did so without a word.

  “Put your head down,” she said and scrunched low in her seat. I did the same and heard a car cruise past. Sarah popped up and turned over the engine.

  “What are we doing?” I said.

  “Following him.” Sarah swung into traffic.

  “Following who?”

  She pointed to a silver Honda, three cars ahead of us. “Havens.”

  “Why?” The plan struck me as wonderful, although I had no real idea why.

  “He’s up to something,” Sarah said. “And he’s holding all the cards.”

  “What cards?”

  “Everything. He doles out information to us as he sees fit. Heck, he was ordering Zombrowski around today.”

  “And we’re going to get what out of this?”

  “The upper hand.” A smirk curled the corner of Sarah’s mouth.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing.” She swung a right onto Dempster Street. “You don’t think it’s a good idea to be following him?”

  “I think it’s a fine idea.”

  “You’re being sarcastic.”

  “Actually, I’m not.”

  “He doesn’t interest you at all?”

  “Not the way he interests you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  She glanced across the car. “Sounded like something.”

  I pointed at the flow of traffic ahead of us. “Where do you think he’s going?”

  “Tell me what you meant.”

  “When?”

  “Just now.”

  “He likes you, Sarah.”

  “That’s what you think?”

  “Yes, that’s what I think. Watch where you’re going.”

  She moved her eyes back to the road. “He doesn’t like me. And he’s not my type anyway.”

  “Maybe you’re just pissed because he beat up your boyfriend?”

  “Kyle’s not my boyfriend. And he got what was coming to him.”

  We drove a couple more blocks in silence. I didn’t know what else to say. Havens had a thing for Sarah. And no one was going to convince me otherwise. I mean, why the hell wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t anyone? The fact that she couldn’t see it didn’t mean anything. I was walking proof of that.

  “What are we going to do if he catches us?” I said.

  “We’ll tell him the truth.”

  “Which is what?”

  “He’s creeping us out. And we want to know what’s up.”

  “That’ll go over well.”

  We pulled up to a light. Havens’s Honda sat two cars ahead. I wondered if Sarah had ever tailed anyone before. All in all, I thought she was doing a pretty good job. We took a left on McCormick Boulevard, before turning west on Devon.

  “He’s headed to the forest preserve,” I said.

  “The what?”

  “The woods. He’s headed to the woods where they buried the kid.”

  Sarah hadn’t taken a look at the police report, at least not enough to put it together. So I did it for her.

  “Skylar Wingate. The kid James Harrison killed. They found him down here.”

  A sign flashed past: CALDWELL WOODS. Up ahead, Havens’s blinker blinked.

  “He’s going in a side entrance,” I said. “I think there’s a small parking lot there.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Take a right.” We pulled into a warren of residential streets and parked.

  “Come on,” I said, “before we lose him.”

  We jogged back across Caldwell Avenue and stopped just inside the entrance to the forest preserve. I heard a car door slam and waited another beat. Then we slipped forward. Havens was just making his way down one of the trails. We followed.

  4

  Sunlight washed down the dirt path and cut a filtered edge through the trees. Sarah had a bounce in her step. I didn’t.

  “What should we say if he sees us?” she said.

  “I told you. I don’t know. This whole thing was your idea.”

  Havens had slipped around a bend in the trail, maybe thirty yards ahead.

  “Do you think he’s taking us to the crime scene?” she said.

  “Be a good bet. We should probably get off the trail.” I found a gap in the trees and stepped into the shade. It had rained the night before and the ground here was still damp. The fecund smell of soil mingled with rotting wood and the faint metallic tang of the river.

  “You’ve been here before?” Sarah was pressed up close behind me, and I could feel the swell of her blouse, firm against my skin.

  “Yeah, I’ve been here.”

  “Why?”

  “Good running trails. Sometimes, I take my bike down here. Now stay close and be quiet.” I moved quickly through the trees, my eyes adjusting to the thickening darkness. Sarah struggled to keep pace. I went in about a hundred yards and waited.

  “Sorry,” she said, when she finally caught up. “I think I’m running into every thornbush in the place.”

  I nod
ded to a faint line of light on our left. “If I have my geography right, the path is just over there, close to the river.”

  “And the crime scene?”

  “I figure he’s taking us to the grave.”

  The word sucked the life from the air between us and drained the color from Sarah’s face. She was a child again, staring up at me out of her own dark hole of fear.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “He’s not going to know we’re around. And if he does, big deal.”

  “You should lead the way.”

  We pushed on. Twenty yards later, I stopped. There was a scratching up ahead. Sarah couldn’t hear it, but I could and pointed.

  “Someone’s in the trees. I’m gonna check it out. You circle back and find the trail. Walk down it until you see me.”

  Sarah seemed happy with the plan, especially the part that got her back on the walking path. After she’d gone, I sat up against a tree and slowed my breathing. The scratching was still there, low, insistent. Someone digging maybe. I let myself soften. Melt. When I was loose and limber, I eased to my feet. The ground was sloping away from me. I picked a path through the tangle of underbrush. Not a scrape of sound. I’d always been pretty good moving through the woods. Even as a kid. I didn’t know why, but everyone was good at something.

  I could see a glimmer of light and stopped again to listen. The scratching wasn’t there anymore. The digging had stopped as well. Nothing now but crickets. There was a sudden thrashing in the trees to my left. A grunt, and then a scream. A woman’s scream. Sarah’s scream.

  5

  A twist of thorns whipped across my face, drawing fresh blood I could feel on my cheek and taste on my lips. I pushed through the thicket and heard the scream again. I weaved between the dark trunks of trees, keeping my legs high so I didn’t get caught in the tangle. Suddenly, the ground dropped away completely. I caught myself and navigated a small, steep incline, stepping out of the tree line onto a hard-packed trail. The smell of the river was strong now, but it was dark enough that I couldn’t see the water. I could see Sarah, however. She lay a few feet from me. Jake Havens stood over her. He had a knife in his hand.

  “Easy,” I said.

  Havens flashed the knife, then clicked it shut and slipped it into a pocket. His movements were quick and sure, designed for places like the deep of the Cook County forest preserve. He reached down and touched two fingers to Sarah’s throat. I noticed for the first time that her eyes were closed. There was a small egg rising under the thin skin near her temple. Havens lifted her off the path and carried her to a patch of grass. He disappeared and returned with a bandana, soaked in cold water. He bathed her face and wrapped it around her neck.

  “She fell down the embankment.” Havens kept his back to me and pointed to the drop-off. I guess I could have picked up a rock and hit him. He didn’t seem too worried about it.

  “Is she all right?” I said.

  “Pulse is strong. Give her a minute.” Havens turned, his features cut fine by the final shards of the day’s light. “You’re bleeding, Joyce.”

  “Thornbush.” I wiped my face with the back of my hand. Sarah moaned lightly and began to stir.

  “How you feeling?” There was a tenderness in Havens’s voice that surprised me. Sarah smiled at the sound, and my surprise blossomed into jealousy.

  “Hey, Sarah. You okay?” I moved closer and knelt down beside her.

  “I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.”

  Havens produced a flashlight and checked her eyes. “Pupils are constricting. Can you stand up?”

  He helped her to her feet.

  “I’m fine.” Sarah felt the lump on her head. “Bet that looks great.”

  Havens smiled. “You wear it well, Gold.”

  “Thanks.” She took his bandana off, wrung it out, and held it against her cheek.

  I grabbed Havens by the sleeve and turned him around. “You want to tell us what we’re doing out here?”

  Havens threw a hand to his left. “The Chicago River is fifteen feet that way.”

  “So?” I said.

  “So that’s where he killed him.”

  “Who?” Sarah said.

  Havens stepped a little closer. “Who do you think? Skylar Wingate.”

  Havens took us to the grave, nothing left to mark it but a small, dark depression in the ground. Still, in the failing light, I could see it all. The boy’s body, coming up and out of the water, glistening and wet, then cold and hard as it dried on the riverbank. Heels digging twin furrows in the mud as he was dragged to the place. He lay there, mouth open, limbs tangled, one palm half closed as the hole was dug … or maybe just some last-minute depth added to it. Then down he went. A soft thump when he hit bottom. And the dirt went in, over his face first because of the eyes. After that the rest, covered over with soil, wet and heavy, alive with the woods. I could hear him now, fists beating against the soft cover. Felt him, too, up and down the back of my neck. Stiff fingers. Cold, pimpled flesh. I looked over at Sarah and saw the little girl again. Only this time, she screamed without making a sound.

  “He’s gone,” I said.

  “I know.”

  I took her hand in mine and tried to coax some warmth into it. Havens had wandered back down to the river. Left us alone to wake a boy we never knew. Now Havens’s voice beckoned through the screen of trees. We turned from the grave. Skylar Wingate’s memory floated and followed.

  6

  Havens was perched on a large boulder, jutting up like an angry tooth out of the riverbank. Sarah and I found spots on the grass at his feet. Just the way he liked it, I thought.

  “Police think he was pulled out of the water right here.” Havens pointed to the river behind him. The night was almost full now; the water rippled under fresh strokes of moonlight.

  “That was fourteen years ago,” I said. “I still don’t understand why you’re down here.”

  “Big picture, Joyce.”

  “What does that mean?” Sarah said.

  “There was something I didn’t tell Z. A fresh case. Less than a week ago.”

  Sarah struggled to her feet. I motioned for her to sit.

  “Where?” I said.

  “A kid went missing on the North Side. They found a sneaker and what they believe to be his backpack maybe a mile along this trail.”

  “No body?”

  “They searched for three days and came up with nothing. The kid was a runaway so it wasn’t a big story. Anyway, it was close to Wingate and I wanted to take a look.”

  “It’s an active crime scene,” Sarah said. “You can’t just go barging in.”

  “Chicago PD finished up last week. The site’s been fully processed for evidence.” Havens climbed down off his rock and began to walk. Sarah and I followed.

  “The boy’s belongings were found in a small clearing, at the foot of some rocks.” Havens took out his flashlight and began to play it along the riverbank.

  “And you think you’ll know the place when you see it?” I said. “In the middle of the night?”

  “I was hoping to get here earlier, but I got held up by some classmates.” Havens turned. “Seems they got lost in the woods. Come on. I got a feeling it’s just up ahead.”

  Havens never found the scene. Sarah did. Or rather, she found a scrap of police tape flapping yellow in the night. Sarah pulled it off the branch of a tree and showed it to Havens.“ This what you’re looking for?”

  Havens stuffed the tape into his pocket and pushed deeper into the woods. Sarah held her hand high and I slapped her five as I went by. It took another ten minutes of fumbling before we broke into the actual clearing, bordered by a dark outcropping of rocks on one side and the river on the other. I edged ahead of the group and drifted toward the water. Havens warned me to be careful. He was right. I took a false step and felt the bank give way. My footing went and I was suddenly underwater, breathing in black mud. I came up blowing gusts from my mouth and nose. Havens’s light bobbled in the darkness. I g
rabbed for it. There was a hand there. It gripped my forearm and pulled. The mud gave a sucking sound, unwilling to give up its prize. But Havens wouldn’t be denied. Sarah watched without mercy as I was saved from myself and laid out on the bank. Cold, wet, and humiliated. So much for being good in the woods.

  “Sorry,” I gasped.

  “It happens,” Havens said and dismissed my fall with a shrug. For the first time I felt a tingling of “like” for my classmate.

  “You need a minute?” he said.

  I shook my head and got to my feet. Carvings of mud fell off my pants and shoes.

  “This has to be where they found the pack,” Havens said, eyes fixed on mine. I took the flashlight from him. My jeans and boots squeaked and squelched as I moved. Something was crawling down my neck. I knocked it away with the back of my hand and crouched to study the terrain.

  “What are you looking for?” Sarah crouched beside me.

  “I don’t know.” I dug at the dirt. My fingers went in less than an inch. “Soil’s thin. If he killed the boy here, he couldn’t have buried him.” I flicked the light up into the tree line. “I guess he could have dragged him into the woods.”

  “But he didn’t.” Sarah trickled a stream of pebbles through her fingers. “The police already checked.”

  “Why did they stop searching?” I said, turning the light in Havens’s direction.

  “According to the Herald, the cops now believe the kid might have just left the area,” he said. “They’re pursuing ‘other leads,’ whatever that means.”

  I got up and began to walk along the riverbank. Carefully this time.

  “Where are you going?” Sarah’s voice crept quietly beside me.

  “There might be a place … ” I tracked the curve of the river. After about thirty yards, I cut away from the water and climbed partway up a slope of crumbling granite. I touched a finger to my lips. A ruffle of breeze tickled the tops of the trees and licked at the water’s edge.

  “He took the boy off the street?” My voice hovered just above a hush.

  “That was the theory,” Havens said.

  I peered up the slope. “He still might need a place.”