With a hard swing, the officer rammed the door and broke it off the hinges. I walked in with my gun drawn. Lutz and another officer followed at my back.
I yelled out as we crossed the threshold and entered the living room. “Chicago PD. Is anyone in here?”
We heard nothing but silence.
Lutz flipped on the living room light, and we cleared that area. The kitchen directly to the right was immediately cleared too. Using hand signals, the commander pointed down the hall and held up three fingers to indicate there were three doors. Two were likely bedrooms, and the third would be the bathroom. The apartment was small.
We hugged the walls as we inched into the hallway. The first bedroom on the right stood empty, but we checked under the bed and in the closet before moving on. Five feet farther and across the hall was the second bedroom, which was also empty. Lutz pointed at the last room—the bathroom. He pushed open the door with the barrel of his gun then shook his head.
“Jesus Christ. I have a crime scene here and another dead body. Looks like we found Bradley Risack.”
To preserve the scene, we had to stay out of the bathroom, but from the looks of the carnage that had taken place inside the small space, and the amount of blood staining the walls and floor, there was no doubt that the man in the bathtub was dead.
We had the officers go through each room again thoroughly and check outside the back door. Fifteen minutes later, they told us that everything had been cleared and the scene was secure. Forensics could take over the apartment.
Lutz and I returned to the front yard and knelt at Don’s side.
“How long has he been dead?” I asked.
“According to what you’ve told me, the kid was talking to him on the phone shortly after midnight. I’d say he was killed as soon as he got home, meaning somebody was lying in wait for him to arrive.” Don checked his watch. “So as of now, I’d say he’s been dead for a few hours.”
“Seems like the stab wounds to the torso would have been plenty to kill him,” I said.
Don nodded. “They definitely would have. I’d say he slashed the vic’s throat as insurance.”
Lutz agreed. “It looks that way to me too.”
Don’s knees popped when he stood. He bent over and rubbed them. “Okay, you say there’s another DB inside?”
I grunted. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Don tipped his head at Mark. “Bring the gurney. We’ll load this guy up and then start on the second victim.”
Minutes later, we reentered the house with Don. Lutz pointed at the last door on the right at the end of the hallway.
“The vic is in the bathtub.”
Don gave Lutz a nod and continued on. We walked the rooms, making sure we were gloved. I opened the closet in Manny’s room, confirming it as his from the love notes attached to the dresser mirror. Inside sat a box filled with women’s purses. I called out to Lutz.
“Boss, you need to see this.”
Lutz came in and joined me. “What have you got?”
I pointed at what looked to be a dozen or more purses.
Bob knelt and looked at the contents of the box. “What the hell? I guess RailGears didn’t pay Manny an income he was satisfied with.”
It was all beginning to make sense. Chances were, we didn’t know anything about Manny and Brad’s side hustle since robbery reports didn’t come to our department. The only reason we were involved at all was because they got caught in the act and killed Leslie.
“Those two must have been robbing hookers of their money, which explains why they hit Leslie so late at night. It’s usually when hookers have the most cash in their purses.” I tipped my head at the box. “And there’s the proof.”
Lutz went to the door and called Mike in to join us. “We need him to photograph the box as it is before we start going through it.”
After taking several pictures of the box inside the closet, Mike lifted it to the bed, snapped a few more shots, then took out the purses and lined them up side by side. There were fourteen in all. He took more pictures then gave us the go-ahead. “Make sure to keep the contents with the purse it came out of. Holler when you’re done so I can take more pictures.”
Lutz thanked him, and Mike walked out.
“How do you want to do this?” I asked.
“Wallets and phones are the most important. We’ll take them out, lay them next to the purse, have Mike take more shots, and then we’ll check for IDs or driver’s licenses. I’m sure Robbery has theft reports for most of these purses.”
I was perplexed. “But no descriptions of the thieves?”
“Maybe they wore masks. Who knows?”
I scratched my cheek. “Maybe, but then why not on the night Leslie was killed?”
Lutz raised his brows. “Could be what we originally thought—the guys may have been people she knew.”
A half hour later, we called Mike back in. Six purses were without wallets, IDs, cash, and phones. The guys had covered their tracks well, I imagined in case the house was ever raided. Now it didn’t seem to matter. They were both dead. We continued to search, and I found a lone purse in the dresser drawer.
My forehead wrinkled involuntarily. “I wonder why this one is separated from the others.”
“Open it,” Lutz said.
I did, but there wasn’t anything significant inside. “Same as the others, no wallet and no phone.” I carried it to the bed, held it upside down, and gave it a shake. A tube of lip balm and a ring fell out.
“What’s this?” Lutz picked up the ring.
I reached for it. “Let me take a look.” I stared at the heart-shaped ring that looked identical to Gina’s. “Shit. That’s Leslie’s ring, and her little sister has one just like it.”