I followed the police sergeant’s instructions, heading toward Commonwealth Avenue, and I was more than a block away when I saw the police lights flashing up ahead. The building, like the others on this street, was higher end with a doorman that required a full check-in process before anyone entered the elevator, where Jane Doe had been found.
The lobby was taped off. Officers were swarming the area, and onlookers and several news reporters with cameramen were trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening inside.
I flashed my badge at a group of officers who were standing guard and ducked below the tape, showing my identification once more to get through the lobby door. I immediately noticed the doorman off to the side, getting interviewed, several residents going through the same thing as they stood in different sections of the large, open space.
The door to the elevator was open, a forensic analyst inside. His collection bags were spread out on the floor, where he would make sure every inch of the interior was dusted for DNA.
“Flynn,” I said to him as he knelt next to the sheet-covered body. I waited for him to look at me before I added, “I’m the lead detective on the case. Tell me everything you’ve found so far.”
“The doorman discovered her about an hour ago and called 911. The elevator door had opened in the lobby, and her blood had come trickling out. The doorman said she’s not a resident and that she hadn’t come here during his shift, but he’s only been on for a couple of hours. I’m sure there’s a call into the employee who was on before him.”
I stood in the entryway, making sure my feet didn’t cross the threshold. “Any word on the cameras?”
“Rumor is, they haven’t been working for twenty-four hours. The whole system is down, and a tech was supposed to come this morning to get it back online. I guess he hasn’t shown yet.”
“Coincidence or premeditated?”
“You know this business, Detective. A case could be made for both.”
There was commotion behind me, and as I turned around, a set of reporters was getting too close to the glass door and being escorted away.
I faced the elevator again and said, “Talk to me about Jane Doe.”
He pulled the sheet back, showing me her face and auburn hair, and I mentally scanned the department’s database, not recognizing either.
When I nodded, he returned the sheet to where it had been and said, “Ms. Doe was shot in the clavicle. She didn’t have a purse on her, and there’s no major identifiable marks from what I can tell so far. We’ll run her prints when I get to the station.”
“Let me know the second you find anything.”
I was just taking a step back when he said, “There is something you should know, Detective.” He grabbed the middle of the covering and moved it over the side of her body.
What was revealed was a sight that I would see when I closed my eyes tonight. I never saw the cases that ended happily, the ones where justice was found. It was the horrific, gruesome ones that kept me up at night.
Like this one.
I ran my hand through my hair. “Fuck me.”
“If I had to guess, she was about twenty weeks along.”