Hours later, I entered the bullpen with a heavy heart. Confusion, sadness, and anger weighed on my mind, and it felt like an anchor was tied around my neck. Sleep deprivation didn’t improve my outlook. I wondered if spending the last twenty-four hours looking for a single assailant had been a waste of our resources. Maybe there had been two men all the while, yet we’d been searching the CTA footage and every store surveillance camera for one person. I didn’t want to admit we were back to square one, but there was a good possibility that we were.
Our only eyewitness was Mr. Grimes from three hours earlier, who’d caught a glimpse of the perps as they attacked the woman behind the building. After we’d briefly talked to him at the scene, he agreed to come in and give Frank and me a taped interview. His account would be the most important evidence so far, and it needed to be preserved.
I stared at the blank sheet of paper on my desk then reached for the phone. Speaking to Don could offer some clarity. I needed his opinion on similarities and differences between the latest murder and Callie’s.
“Don, it’s Jesse. Do you have a minute? I need to pick your brain.”
“Sounds like that’ll take more than a minute. Why don’t you come down to my office? I’m due for a coffee break, anyway.”
“Yeah, me too, and I’ll bring the coffee.”
I informed Lutz that I was indeed present but that I’d forgo the roll call for time better spent with Don. He noted that and asked me to update him when I was done. Carrying two coffees, I took the back stairs to the lower level of our building and entered the medical examiner’s office. Already at his desk, Don closed out what he was reading on the computer and gave me his attention.
“Thanks for the coffee, Jesse. So, what’s on your mind?”
“I need your expertise.”
“About our two recent murders?”
“Yep. What’s your take on that? Do you think both women were killed by the same person?”
“Well, I just got the second woman cleaned up and printed. Mike has her prints and will see if they’re in the system.”
Knowing that the witness said he didn’t hear a gunshot, I assumed I knew how the woman died. “She was stabbed, right?”
“Yes, and unfortunately, the knife pierced her heart. Since there was only one wound, it could have been a survivable attack if it weren’t for the location of the stab. The perps ran away as soon as the headlights hit them, so they didn’t have time to inflict more injuries.”
“But since they were seen, they grabbed her purse and ran off instead.”
“That’s how I see it, but I’m not the detective.”
I contorted my face.
“Something about that doesn’t sit right with you?”
“No, it doesn’t. Two perps could have easily knocked her down and ran off with her purse. Why stab her at all?”
“And you posed that very question at Callie’s murder too.”
“I did. It’s like the murders are for pure enjoyment and not about theft.”
“And it could very well be exactly that.” Don lifted his cup and blew over it then took a sip.
“So do you think it’s one killer? Is the length and width of the knife the same in both murders?”
Don maximized his computer’s screen. “Actually, I was making that very comparison when you walked in. Unfortunately, the depth and size of our Jane Doe’s wound is different from the one in Callie’s back.”
“In what way?”
“The knife was serrated, and from the depth of the injury, it not only pierced the heart but completely penetrated it. I’d say the blade of the knife was five inches long and somewhat narrow and could have easily come from somebody’s butcher block.”
“Sounds like a steak knife. So it was a weapon of convenience, just in case it was needed?”
“It looks that way.”
“How can you tell it was serrated if it didn’t scrape bone?”
“Because of the ragged wound. Callie’s cuts were smooth in both the neck injury and the stab to her kidney. That knife was larger and meant for inflicting injury. It had a strong, razor-sharp blade.”
I rubbed my forehead—with even more questions than answers. “So maybe the murders aren’t related after all.”
“Usually, if a killer has a weapon that’s worked well in the past, they’re likely to continue using the same one.”
“Right, unless they’re trying to throw law enforcement off their trail.” I stood and knuckled Don’s desk. “Appreciate your science and insight.”
“Not a problem, Jesse, and I hope you catch the killers.”
I paused at the door and looked back. “You aren’t the only one.”
As I took the stairs to our floor, I decided to stop at Lutz’s office and tell him about Don’s findings. I thumped on his partially open door.
He waved me in. “Talk to Don already?”
“Yeah.”
Lutz pointed at the guest chair. “Take a load off and spill.”
“Don doesn’t think the alley murderer and Callie’s are the same.”
Lutz’s wiry brows nearly touched. “No shit? Why?”
I shrugged. “Simple enough—the knives are different.”
Swatting the air, Lutz continued. “No disrespect to Don, but that doesn’t mean anything. Middle of the night, dark area not far from the L, same type of weapon used, and a woman singled out alone. Sounds like a lot of similarities to me.”
I held my tongue since I was leaning more toward Don’s opinion.
“Jesse?”
“Yep?”
“What do you think? You are a homicide detective.”
“I guess the two-perp scenario threw me off, but we need to know who the woman was before anything else. She may have known the guys. Could have been a drug deal gone bad when Mr. Grimes showed up. Maybe the perps thought she double-crossed them. Who knows?”
“You’re right, and it’s too early to speculate. What’s up with the prints?”
“Haven’t heard yet, but I’ll call Mike and see what he knows.”
Lutz gave me a nod. “Find a connection, McCord. That’s what you do best.”
I turned back before walking out the door. “I won’t let you down, Boss.”
When I plopped down at my desk, the air hissed in the seat of my vinyl chair. It reminded me that I needed to order something more comfortable. I reached for my phone and dialed our forensic department, and Mike picked up right away.
“Crime lab, Mike speaking.”
“Hey, pal, it’s Jesse. Get anything on the prints from our vic yet?”
“The system is still running it. Hold on. It looks like there’s a hit.” I held my breath while Mike checked. He was back at the phone a few seconds later. “Yep, she’s in the system. Two arrests for solicitation just this year.”
I grabbed paper and a pen from my center drawer. “Okay, give me the details.”
“Her name is Leslie Adams, age twenty-four, and she lived in Dearborn Park.”
“Dearborn Park? What was she doing walking at that time of night near Grand and North Peoria?”
“Well—”
“Never mind. I forgot what her occupation was for a minute. So we have no way to know who she was going to visit or had just visited since she didn’t have a purse or a phone with her.”
“Was that a question?”
“What? No, sorry. I was just thinking out loud.” I made a note to ask Mr. Grimes if the woman was walking toward his headlights or away from them. That could tell us if she was heading to the subway or had just left it. No matter what, it wouldn’t tell us who her client was or where he lived along that alley.
“Okay, I’ll pull up her jacket. Thanks, buddy.”
“You bet.”
I hung up and called Frank over.
“What have we got?” He took a seat alongside my desk.
“A working girl a few blocks west of the Blue Line at Halstead and Grand. Name is Leslie Adams, and she lives in Dearborn Park on South State Street.”
“Humph. So she could have taken the Red Line and transferred to the Blue Line to get there, or possibly had a private driver.”
I shook my head. “Nope, the driver theory won’t work. He would have dropped her off at the front door of the client and waited outside. My bet is that she rode the L from stop to stop and then walked the rest of the way. Plus, the subway is cheap, and she wouldn’t have to give the driver a cut of her earnings.”
Frank huffed his response. “Don’t people understand that Chicago is a dangerous city, especially in the middle of the night?”
“If it wasn’t dangerous, we homicide detectives would be out of work. Let’s check out where she lived and talk to the neighbors.”