I held my breath as I walked into the bullpen on Thursday morning. The last thing I wanted to hear was that another murder related to the subway killer had taken place during the night.
Relief swept over me when Chuck Gaines said that no murders had been reported within the Chicago city limits. The last one had occurred the night before when a woman—a forty-one-year-old mom of two named Diana Prescott—had her throat slit only a few houses away from the safety of her home. Her husband, Jeff, would be coming in later to make the ID.
As soon as roll call and the update were finished, we would dig in our heels and review all the CTA security footage for the subway lines that ran during the timeframe of the murders. The killer had to show up somewhere on each one—we just needed a lucky break. Searching the footage would be a time-consuming process, but we had nothing else to follow up on.
We were back in the bullpen by eight forty-five and had footage from the Red Line’s Ninety-Fifth Street and Forty-Seventh Street stations and the Blue Line at the Grand Avenue and Halstead Street stations. I had the station from Callie’s murder on my screen, Frank took the Forty-Seventh Street footage from Diana’s murder, and Henry had the Blue Line at Grand Avenue, which was the station Manny and Brad rode before killing Leslie—and the same station where the subway killer got off when he murdered them. I shook my head at the thought. It was too crazy to be believable, yet it was. The subway killer likely saw Manny and Brad’s coverage on the news, followed them the same way he stalked the women, and took their lives.
I turned my chair toward the group. “What are your opinions on why the subway killer murdered Manny and Brad?”
Frank spoke up first. “Spilling blood is what he’s all about.”
Henry held up his hand. “I disagree.”
“Really?” My curiosity was piqued. “What’s your take on it, Henry?”
“Although we know that Brad and Manny, along with a few other undesirables, were just robbing hookers because they were easy prey, the subway killer didn’t know that. In his deranged mind, he probably thought they were moving in on his territory. Brad killed Leslie because he freaked out when Tim’s headlights caught them in the act of robbing her. A stupid move on his part, but he likely wasn’t thinking in that moment. He went into panic mode.”
I rapped my knuckles on my desk. “So he thought they were a couple of copycat killers and didn’t want the competition.”
Henry nodded. “That’s how I see it.”
“Yeah, me too.” I looked at my computer. “Now to find the same guy at each of those stations, and we’ll be in business.”
“Speaking of business”—Frank glanced at the clock—“I almost forgot about Gina’s appointment with Don. I better see if he has those death certificates ready.”
“Yep. If she’s reliable, she should be here any minute.” I tapped the arrow on my screen and began watching the footage. From what I heard on Frank’s end of the conversation with Don, it sounded like the death certificates were ready and waiting for Gina. Before I returned my focus to the screen, I reminded the guys to watch for their victim exiting the train and station and then check to see who was in close proximity of her. We would pause our footage then and compare images.
Several minutes later, Frank began to grumble. “Why is it so hard for young people to be responsible?”
I glanced at the clock—9:12. “Yeah, she’s late.”
“That’s what I meant.” Frank stood and paced.
“Call Debra and ask if anyone is sitting in the lobby.” I paused my footage and waited while Frank made the call. He hung up almost immediately.
“Debra said the lobby is empty, and nobody has approached the counter.”
Henry took his turn and tried to reassure Frank. “Maybe her driver got stuck in traffic.”
“Maybe, but back to the responsibility thing—she could have called me.”
I shrugged and started the footage again. “Why don’t you call her?”
“I’ll give her ten more minutes, and then I will.”
I got to the part where Callie exited the terminal, then I paused it. Scooting my chair in closer, I looked at every person who was within the camera’s range.
“Anyone have their victim on the screen yet?”
Henry said no, and Frank said he hadn’t begun.
I raised a brow at him. “You want to get on board?”
“I can’t focus. I better give Gina a call. It’s already twenty after nine.” Frank asked for her phone number, and I pulled the card out of my desk drawer.
“Keep it,” I said. “You’ll probably be talking to her more than I will.”
Frank looked irritated and worried as he dialed her number from his desk phone. I watched as he waited for Gina to pick up.
“Damn it. No answer.”
“That is odd, unless she overslept. So, what do you want to do?”
“I’m calling Lutz. He can ask a patrol unit to do a wellness check on her, and I swear, if she’s still in bed, she’s going to get a good talking-to.”
I grinned. “Damn, I’d hate to be your kid.”
Tony chuckled. “Good thing he doesn’t have any.”
Frank made the quick call to Lutz then returned his attention to the footage in front of him. “Who the hell am I looking for, anyway?”
I groaned as I squeezed my temples between my hands. “Tony, take over his computer. You’re looking for Diana Prescott, the woman who was killed last night. Watch for her after one a.m. Her photograph was sent to each of our phones.”
Frank apologized as he stared at the clock. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, McCord.”
I shushed him. “Stop buying trouble. She probably forgot or overslept. She’s a kid—what do you expect?”
“A better excuse than that.”
Frank’s desk phone rang seconds later. “It’s Lutz.” He yanked it off the base and pressed the speakerphone button. “What do you have, Boss?”
“Nothing good. The officers said Gina’s doorbell had been ripped from the wall, leaving wires hanging.”
“That was a camera doorbell, and whoever was there didn’t want to be seen!” Frank sucked in a deep breath. “Have they made entry yet?”
“They knocked a dozen times and nobody answered, so I told them to breach the door.”
“And?”
“And the apartment was empty, but one of the beds was in disarray like a scuffle had taken place there.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Take a breath, Frank, and take McCord with you. The officers will begin canvassing the neighborhood once you arrive. If you see any signs of blood, call me back, and I’ll send Forensics out.”
I slipped on my shoulder holster as Lutz talked.
“Roger that.” Frank hung up and gathered his gear. “Let’s go.”
I turned to Henry. “Finish going through that footage and find him. We need that killer’s face, and we need it today!”
We raced out the door to the nearest cruiser, and Frank dove into the driver’s seat. He hit the lights and siren and spun the wheel as he squealed out of the parking lot.
“We’ll find her, Frank. She wasn’t dead in her apartment, so he must have a plan for her. There’s still time.”
“I don’t even want to think of his plan for her.” Frank pounded the steering wheel. “We’re out of time, and it’s been damn near a week since Callie was killed. We’re no further ahead than we were then, and we have no idea what that bastard looks like. He took Gina, and he’s ditched the subway system. That means he knows we’re on to him.”
I hated where my thoughts were going. “It also means he has a car, and he could be in a different state by now.”
Under normal conditions, we had a fifteen-minute drive, but I knew Frank would get there in ten. He charged through intersections as I watched for oncoming traffic. Ten minutes later, Frank pulled up behind the squad car and slammed the shifter into Park.
Two officers were standing on the porch and talking to the downstairs tenant. Frank bolted up the sidewalk, and I was two feet at his back.
“Jackson, Miller, what have we got?”
“Detectives.” Officer Jackson pointed at the wires hanging from the hole in the clapboard. “First thing we noticed was this. The entire doorbell unit is gone, and we didn’t see the adapter anywhere upstairs. The apartment is empty, but it looks like a struggle occurred in one of the bedrooms.”
I glanced at the downstairs tenant. A woman who appeared to be pushing fifty stood in front of her door.
“This is Beth Dupont,” Jackson said. “Unfortunately, she works second shift and didn’t get home until midnight.”
“And you left your apartment when?” Frank asked.
“Two thirty. I take the train, so I have to figure in extra time for transfers.”
“Understood. Did you notice anything unusual before that?”
She looked at the floor. “I know about Leslie’s death. Gina told me, and I’m so sorry.”
I nodded.
“I did hear Gina’s doorbell ring yesterday afternoon.”
“That was us,” Frank said.
Beth held up her hand. “No, it was a man who arrived shortly after you left. I don’t want to seem like a busybody, but now that Gina is alone, I watch more closely.”
I gave Frank a side-eyed glance. “A different man showed up after we left? You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. I heard him talking through her doorbell intercom. He said he was an officer who was sent by you, so I went back to getting ready for work.”
“Sent by us?”
“Yes, he called you by name.”
I jerked my head at Jackson. “Call Dispatch and ask if an officer was sent to this address yesterday afternoon. Make it quick.” I turned to Beth. “Did you get a good look at the man?”
“From the side, yes, but not from the front.”
“Okay, we’ll be right back. We need to check out the upstairs with the officers. It’ll only take a few minutes, and then we’d like to have a longer conversation with you. How about waiting in your apartment for the time being?”
“Okay.” She turned and went inside.
Frank pointed at the door. “Show us what you noticed upstairs.”
Officers Jackson and Miller led the way.