We were on scene by six o’clock. The rising sun had lit the mid-May sky at five thirty, and an early-morning jogger spotted the dead girl on the sidewalk a block from his home. His 911 call set our day in motion.
Dispatch alerted the nearest patrol units, and after seeing the wound in the woman’s back, they contacted Homicide. Once Lutz was notified, he called my phone and woke me from my last hour of sleep.
Twenty minutes later, forgoing my shower and shave, I parked at the corner of East Ninety-Sixth Street and South Prairie. After dipping under the yellow tape of the already secured scene, I met up with my commander and the first responders.
Our group had surrounded the body, and I assumed they were waiting for Forensics and the medical examiner, Don Lawry, to arrive. We knew better than to touch or disrupt anything. From the amount of blood staining the concrete, it was more than clear that the victim was dead.
I peered over Lutz’s shoulder at the blood on the female’s back. She lay face down, so all we knew was that she had enough of an injury to kill her, yet there was far too much blood at the scene to have come from that wound only.
“Multiple stab wounds?”
Lutz shrugged. “We can’t flip her over, but I’d say so. There’s way too much blood under her head.”
I rounded the victim and knelt just outside of the taped perimeter. “She looks young. College-age, probably.”
Tillson tipped his head to the right. “The state university is less than a mile from here.”
“So she could very well be a student. No ID or phone?” I pushed off my knee and stood.
“Not unless there’s something in her pockets, but we’ll wait for Don to check.” Lutz called out to Clayborn. “You doing anything at the moment?”
“No, sir, just waiting for instructions.”
“Okay, then run over to the terminal, see if this street is visible from the upper level, and then bring back as many coffees as you can carry.”
“You got it, Commander.”
I glanced down the street, and Don’s van was heading our way. “Lawry is here.”
“Good.” Lutz waved Tillson and Foxworthy over. “Start canvassing this street and bang on every door. It’s Saturday morning—people should be home. Find out who went out last night and who stayed up late. Ask if anyone heard anything or saw that girl walking, and if they did, was somebody following her. Now go. I’ll have Clayborn join you as soon as he gets back.”
Don parked his van along the curb and killed the ignition. After opening the sliding side door, he grabbed his bag of supplies, ducked under the police tape, and joined us.
“Morning, guys. Guess hoping for a normal Saturday would be asking too much.” He set down his bag and stretched a pair of gloves over his hands. “When did the call come in?”
Lutz looked at his watch. “An hour or so ago, give or take a few minutes.”
“Uh-huh.” Don knelt at the female’s side. “Forensics got stuck at a few red lights. They should be rolling up any minute, though. Anyone touch anything? The caller, possibly?”
“Nope, not according to what he told Tillson. Came across the woman, saw all the blood, and immediately called 911.”
“Sure. Looks like a singular stab wound to the left center of her back, possibly penetrating her kidney, but that wouldn’t cause all the blood beneath her head.”
“Our thoughts exactly.” When my name was called, I looked over my shoulder. Clayborn was returning with the coffees and needed help. I grabbed two from him and set them on the hood of the nearest police car. “So, could you see us from the terminal?”
“Yep, although I couldn’t identify anyone.”
“Good enough. You want me to send someone over there, Boss, to start viewing the camera footage?”
“Call Henry. He and Shawn can handle that task.”
“Sure thing.” I stepped away and made the call, and by Henry’s dry voice, it sounded like I woke him. “Hey, pal, it’s Jesse.”
“It’s Saturday, for God’s sake.”
“Yeah, and that sucks. We need you and Shawn at the Ninety-Fifth Street CTA terminal. We’ve got a murder victim a few blocks southeast of there, and Lutz wants you to review the camera footage. I’ll text you the address where we are. Come here first.”
“Okay, give us a half hour. I’ll call Shawn now.”
I turned my attention back to the scene. Mike and Danny, our forensic specialists, had arrived. Our investigation could go forward the moment they finished taking pictures and Don had a chance to examine the body. Sipping my coffee, I walked to each end of the block and stared at the ground. Even though I was hoping, I didn’t expect a clue to magically appear. Real life was a lot tougher than a two-hour movie where everything was neatly wrapped up and the killer was in custody before the ending credits rolled. I checked the sidewalk, the street, and the patch of grass between the two. Nothing caught my attention, so I headed back to watch the process alongside Lutz.
“Go ahead, Don. I’ll snap a few more pics once you turn her over,” Danny said.
Don knelt again, and with the help of his assistant, Mark Nells, they carefully turned the woman over. Her head fell backward more than we would have expected.
“Jesus Christ! Her head is barely attached,” Lutz said.
Don cupped his hand at the base of the woman’s skull to hold her head in place while Danny took six more pictures. Other than the gaping wound to her neck, the rest of her front side appeared untouched. Don pointed out the torn and bloody skin on her knees.
“I’d say this was a surprise attack from the back to disable her, a slice across the throat to finish her off, and then she dropped to her knees and fell face-first to the pavement. That’s how he left her, and this is the spot where she took her last breath.”
“That’s how I see it too,” Lutz said. “How long has she been here? I need to give Henry a timeline to go by when they watch the CTA footage.”
Don tried to bend her arms and legs. “Rigor is setting in, and her front side is dark blue from blood pooling.” He pushed up his sleeve and checked the time. “Friday-night partying with friends, possibly, and bars close late. It’s six thirty right now. She’s been dead between three and five hours, I’d say, and I’ll confirm that with her body temperature. The Red Line trains run twenty-four seven, and if she was a passenger, you should see her exiting the terminal. That’ll give us a pretty accurate TOD.”
Lutz agreed. “Okay, I’ll let Henry know what footage times to watch when they get here.”
I shook my head. “We still can’t move forward until we find out who she is. How about covering that neck wound so I can take a picture? I’ll head over to the university, talk to whatever staff is available on the weekend, show them her picture, and see if somebody can tell me a name.”
“Good idea,” Lutz said. “Wake up Mills too. He can give you a hand.”
“Copy that.”
Danny texted me one of his better pictures of the victim from her chin up. A picture of a dead body was never good, but we needed one without blood evidence showing. I made the call to Mills, and luckily, he was already awake, showered, and downing his second cup of coffee. According to Frank’s calculations, he should arrive at the scene in fifteen minutes.
I polished off my coffee, which was now cold, and tossed the cup in a curbside garbage can. Neighborhood people began to gather, and the officers had to push back the police tape a half block.
“Mark, get a portable barrier set up here,” Lutz said. “We don’t need this poor woman’s dead body on everyone’s social media page.”
“Yes, sir.”
We stood out of the way as Don completed his field exam behind the privacy barrier. I took that time to search faces in the crowd for anyone who appeared too interested in what was going on. From the whispers I’d heard, it sounded like most people were genuinely horrified to know a murder had happened on their street.
The familiar rattle of the loose muffler sounded as Frank’s truck turned on the block. He’d said that when he had time, he would have his truck serviced, but lately, we’d all been too busy, and that included weekends. I shielded my eyes from the sun as he parked by the police tape. He got out and headed our way.
“What’s the short version?” he whispered when he reached my side.
“She looks young, possibly a student at the state university. No ID and no phone. Looks like a stab wound to the back and a very deep slash across the neck that nearly severed her head.”
“Jesus. Who’s canvassing the neighborhood? I didn’t see anyone talking to the crowd back there.” Frank pointed his thumb over his shoulder.
“Yeah, Tillson, Foxworthy, and Clayborn have already spoken to everyone on this street. Nobody saw or heard anything during the night. Henry and Shawn are at the Dan Ryan CTA terminal on Ninety-Fifth to see if their camera footage caught anything last night. From Don’s estimated TOD, she was likely out after bar hours.”
“So she could have taken the train from anywhere?”
“Yep, that’s how we see it.” I jerked my head toward Lutz. “Let’s tell him we’re leaving. If the girl was a student, then somebody at the university should recognize her face.”
Frank called out to Lutz, and the commander looked over his shoulder.
“Just wanted to let you know I’m here, Boss.”
“Good. You two heading out?”
I jingled my car keys. “Yeah, and hopefully somebody knows her, but if she lived in a dorm, you’d think her absence would have already been reported by a roommate.”
“Head out, then, and keep me updated.”
Since my car was the closest to the scene, I offered to drive. I circled the block and took East Ninety-Fifth Street to one of the several entrances to the university. Pulling to the curb, I stared at the signs.
Frank gave me a side-eyed glance. “What’s wrong?”
“Deciding where to go. The university police would likely be the most helpful, yet they probably wouldn’t know her.”
“How about the dorm staff?” Frank pointed at the arrow that showed Residence Hall was to our left.
I shook my head. “It’s Saturday, and I doubt that anyone is working.”
“There’s only one way to find out. Besides, it’s been forever since I’ve stepped foot in a college dorm.”