Foreign Influence by Brad Thor

start on the Taylor investigation.
    Tuesday afternoon, he stopped in a tiny sundries shop, bought a small spiral notebook, and walked back to his car. Inside, he wrote Alison Taylor’s name and the pertinent details he knew thus far of the case. He then focused on his next step.
    The city of Chicago was divided into five policing “areas,” each with its own headquarters. Alison’s hit-and-run had happened in Area Five.
    The detective division of each area was broken into three sections—Special Victims Unit, Robbery/Burglary/Theft, and Homicide/Gang Crimes/Sex. To streamline operations, the city no longer maintained a major accident investigation division. Instead, cases like Alison Taylor’s were now handled by HGS—Homicide/Gang Crimes/Sex.
    Vaughan understood the rationale behind it, but collapsing vehicular crimes into HGS had never seemed like the best fit to him. Homicidedetectives are used to pursuing linear crimes; A shot B, this is why A shot B, we’ve captured A, case closed. There is often malice involved, and that helps them track down and apprehend offenders.
    Hit-and-runs, on the other hand, are atypical. They are not very sexy, and that was why, without even having seen Alison Taylor’s file, he knew the HGS detectives probably hadn’t put a lot of effort into pursuing it. It wasn’t because they were bad cops or because they were lazy, it was simply because with all of the cases they had, human nature was such that you pursued those you felt best equipped to handle and which you saw yourself having the greatest chance of solving.
    The only people who took on loser cases were the young idealists who felt it was a personal failing if they didn’t solve every case that crossed their desk. A year of overwhelming detective work in a city like Chicago helped grind that idealism out of most detectives. Vaughan made a call to an Area Five HGS cop he knew and within ten minutes one of the detectives from Alison’s case called him back.
    “You’re welcome to see the file,” said the detective. “But we didn’t make a lot of progress. Her coworkers were blitzed. Even if we had located the cabbie, their testimony would have been worthless in court.”
    “I’m sure you guys did the best you could. I just want to be able to tell the family we didn’t leave any stones unturned.”
    “I hear you. When can you get down here?”
    Vaughan looked at his watch. “How’s a half hour?”
    “I probably won’t be here, but—” There were a couple of seconds of silence while the detective muffled the mouthpiece before coming back on the line. “Ask for Detective Ramirez. I’ll leave the file with her.”
    Vaughan wrote down the name and was about to thank the man, but he didn’t get the chance. The detective had hung up.
    The half-hour drive, thanks to Chicago traffic, took almost an hour. When he arrived at Area Five and found Detective Ramirez, she told him, “You’re late,” as she handed him the file and offered to let him join her at her desk.
    He hung his suit coat over the back of the metal chair, removed his notebook and pen, and opened the file. The detective he had spoken with had been right. They hadn’t made a lot of progress.
    There was an incident report, pictures from the scene, and witness statements. In addition to the statements taken right after the hit-and-run, the detectives had gone back to interview Alison Taylor’s friends when they were sober.
    A piece of black plastic had been recovered from the scene and was believed to have come from one of those triangular, rooftop advertising setups popular on taxis throughout the city.
    The neighborhood had been canvassed for further witnesses and phone calls had been made to all of the cab companies. None of it resulted in any additional leads.
    Vaughan arrived at the end of the file. Flipping the last page over he said, “Where’s the blue light camera footage from the intersection?”
    Ramirez didn’t even bother looking up from