The Return

Chapter Twenty Two

Tuesday April 18th 2021.

Former Lieutenant Norman Lawrence lived on West Jackson Boulevard by the stadium.

He lived at Harrison Congress Apartments, a doorway to Chicago's own retirees from the force. Many of the residents were former cadets, coroners, and Detectives. The seven-story community even prided itself in the veteran couple that lived on the third floor. Despite bickering like they had murder on the back of their minds, Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy-Williams were cherished. Rumour had it, their kids opted for Harrison Congress when the retirement home had it up to their neck with insistent quarreling and war cries.

Holly couldn't verify how true that was. She only got so far before the Selbourne's home WIFI went out.

She let her knuckles rasp at the door.

No answer.

She glanced over her shoulder, left then right. The morning sun poured from the hall window.

She left the Selbourne's shortly after breakfast. Penelope was displeased with Holly's short stay and insisted Holly collect her contact details for the Leighton case.

It was becoming too real too fast. More people were getting involved.

Hope and adrenaline swirled inside her. They were doing it. Taking the system down one case at a time.

She knocked again.

This had to be the right door. The last picture on Kyle's Instagram was taken from this floor. His back to home 309.

She felt like Joe-Goldberg, only she was using her powers for good. Goldberg was a cold-blooded stalker, a fictitious masterpiece.... she was a researcher plain and simple.

She peeked through the narrow window by the door over the potted caladiums. The curtain over the window was drawn.

She ran her tongue over her bottom lip. She contemplated taking the elevator back to the lobby to call the Lawrence residence...

No. He was home.

He had to be.

She knocked louder, harder. This time, the door pulled open.

A man in a white apron and tired eyes glared down at her. Thinning hair fell limp over his head. He didn't resemble the man in the uniform Kyle posted as a throwback. The man that served his country for years at a time. The man in the doorway was old, fragile.

Holly frowned. "Mr. Lawrence?" She kept her voice firm, controlled.

"Who's asking?" His voice had a crack. How did he have a teenage son? "You're letting out the AC, either come in, or shut the door." He turned his back to her, door ajar. He turned a corner. He was gone.

She took that as her invitation.

"Holly, Steinfeld." She shut the door and traced his steps. He was bent over the oven. "I'm a friend of Kyle's?"

The man stumbled with a hot tray. It clattered to the floor spilling the clearly burnt batch of cookies. "Shit," He hissed. He straightened, hands on his hips. He peered at her. "What trouble has he gone and got himself into now?" He bit out.

"He's in prison, Mr. Lawrence and he needs someone to get him out." She loathed the desperation in her voice.

"Ha!" The man threw his head back. "I always knew it was a matter of time." Norman crouched down over the spilled cookies. "What did he do?" He piled them onto the tray.

"Nothing, we were at a party and there was some alcohol... the cops got involved and a bunch of us got detained."

He shoved the tray into the sink. "Not what I heard." He turned on the faucet. "You can imagine my shock when I woke up to a late-night call from my old buddy, Giovanni." He slipped on a pair of bright yellow gloves. "He said his office was broken into. Nothing was stolen or vandalized. But the security camera did catch something... odd." He reached for a bottle of dish-soap spilling it over the tray. Wasn't he going to turn on the garbage disposal? "It caught my son rummaging through Douglas's files."