My desk phone rang just as I stood to walk to our cafeteria. The vending-machine lunch I had in mind was only minutes away, but I plopped back in my seat and answered the phone instead.
“McCord speaking.”
“Jesse, it’s Bob. We’ve got a problem in Washington Park. Another body with the fingers removed was just discovered.”
Our commander went on to tell me about the call he’d received from our dispatch operator just minutes earlier. A husband and wife riding bikes through Washington Park happened to smell the odor of decay. The message relayed to the 911 operator was that the husband—a detective from Charlotte—was biking through the park with his wife and caught a whiff of the smell. While investigating farther into the woods, he discovered the body of a nude male with a severely crushed head and missing fingertips.
“Get your team out there right now,” Lutz said. “Patrol is already on site, and I’ll head out as soon as I get word to Don, Mike, and Danny.”
“Got it, but do you know where everyone is? That park is damn near four-hundred acres.”
“The caller said they were on the peninsula at the lake.”
“Okay, we’re on our way.” I hung up and got the attention of our John Doe team. “Another body was found in Washington Park with the same MO as the one in Bixler. Lutz wants us out there now.”
Shawn, Henry, and Frank leapt from their chairs, gathered what they needed, and were at the door within seconds. Tony and Kip stayed behind to answer calls.
“Same as always,” I said. “Frank and me in one cruiser”—I pointed at Henry and Shawn—“and you two in the other.”
We took the back stairs to the side exit, where our cruisers were parked. I told Henry to stick to my rear bumper. The scene was on the peninsula at the lake.
Since the north end of the park bordered the same street as the police station, we had only a short six-minute drive. From East Fifty-First Street, we headed south on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Drive to Best Drive—it was the fastest way to reach the area where the body was discovered.
Patrol was already on scene, and three squad cars sat lined up nose-to-bumper along the road leading onto the peninsula.
Taking the lead, I started by telling Henry to have the officers close off every path that led in, which included one main road wide enough to drive a car on and two narrower paths for walkers and bicyclists. We were led to the scene by Officer Jackson, and as we walked, I saw to my right the man who had made the call. I knew I’d get a good recollection from him. Lutz had learned the man was a Charlotte, North Carolina, detective and in Chicago with his wife on their honeymoon. He, his wife, and their bicycles sat on the grass some hundred feet away. I walked over, introduced myself, and told the husband—a detective Chuck Donahue—that I’d be right back after taking a quick look at the body.
Frank, Henry, Shawn, and I continued on with Jackson to the location where the deceased lay. Among the thick undergrowth, he was partially covered with leaves and twigs in what appeared to be an attempt to hide the body until it decomposed. That would have had a good chance of success if it weren’t for the odor of decomp wafting past the nose of a person familiar with that smell. We got within five feet of the body but made sure not to disturb the scene. Don and the crime lab needed it to remain as pristine as possible until their investigation on site was complete. I shined my flashlight at the spots most important to me in that moment—the man’s hands and mouth. From where I had crouched under the trees, I saw the missing fingertips, but with his mouth closed, I had no way of knowing whether his teeth had been shattered. That would be left to Don to find out. Everything so far led me to believe the killer was the same person as at Bixler Park—except for the fact that John Doe had been displayed prominently, and the body I was looking at was so well hidden he might never have been found. I wondered if we had a copycat killer on our hands but quickly dismissed that idea. John Doe’s manner of death, including the fact that his fingertips had been snipped off, had not been released to the press, telling me a copycat killer wasn’t possible. Even so, there were similarities and differences between both men. The most obvious was that the man I was staring at was nude and had his skull so badly crushed that it was no longer round, yet John Doe’s skull didn’t have any blows inflicted on it at all. I wondered if the killer’s rage was increasing or if he was changing up his MO with hopes of throwing law enforcement off his trail. I jerked my head at Shawn.
“Get a couple of quick pictures, and then we’ll leave the scene as is until Don arrives.”
I glanced across the open space, and the detective from North Carolina was pacing a rut into the grass. I knew how he felt. I had been in the same predicament a year earlier when my sister, Jenna, was murdered in Wisconsin. I was out of my jurisdiction and legally had to take a seat on the sidelines during that investigation.
“Let’s have him walk us through the last forty-five minutes.”
Frank and I headed in his direction while Henry and Shawn waited for Lutz, our medical examiner, and the crime lab team to show up. We approached the couple again.
“I hear Chicago was your honeymoon destination. Sorry about the speed bump, folks. We have a beautiful city here, but we also have our fair share of crime. Times ten.”
Frank found a large rock to get comfortable on and pulled out his notepad. “Why don’t you walk us through what happened after you crossed over to the peninsula.”
“Sure. Stacey and I were riding our rented bikes and had been out for about a half hour. Right, babe?”
She nodded. “About that.”
“I checked the map of the park last night and knew the route we wanted to take. We came in on Best Drive and followed that to the road that came onto the peninsula. The plan was to have coffee here, walk around a bit, and then continue north to Payne Drive and take that to East Fifty-First Street, where we’d find a spot for breakfast.”
Frank wrote that down. “Sure. So you reached this spot around when?”
The detective scratched his head. “I’d say around seven forty-five. Our plan was to be at a restaurant by nine, but when we got to this point, I caught a whiff of decomp.” He shook his head. “Once that’s smelled, it can’t be unsmelled. I didn’t have a choice. I needed to investigate further. I’m sure you understand.”
“We do and appreciate your work ethic even when you’re on your honeymoon.” I gave both of them a nod of thanks. “You didn’t touch anything on the deceased, did you?”
“Nope. I’ve been on the force for nine years and know crime scene protocol.”
“What division do you work?” I asked.
“Just started in Homicide a few months back. Before that, I was in Gang Control.”
I tipped my chin at him. “That’s quite a transition.”
“Not as much as you’d think. I worked side by side with the homicide detectives on a regular basis since most of the gang violence led to bloodshed, anyway.”
“Where in North Carolina do you live?”
“We live in Gastonia, but I work in Charlotte. Unfortunately, we have our fair share of murders too.”
At the sound of people talking behind me, I looked over my shoulder. Lutz and Henry were walking toward us. I made the introductions, Lutz thanked Mr. and Mrs. Donahue for calling it in, then he excused himself to join our medical examiner, who had just arrived.
I returned my attention to the newlyweds. “How long are you going to be in Chicago?”
“We’re heading back to Charlotte on Saturday,” Chuck said.
I pulled two of my cards from my pocket. “Would you mind writing your cell number on the back of one in case I need to contact you again?”
“Sure, not a problem.”
Frank handed his pen to Chuck, who scribbled his phone number on the card. He handed the card to me and the pen to Frank then put the second card in his wallet. I noticed from the frown wrinkling Chuck’s brow that something was weighing on his mind.
“Is there something else you remembered?”
“Not pertaining to this scene, but several similar murders took place last winter down in our neck of the woods. I remember Charlotte was on edge when murdered men were found without fingertips, but maybe that’s just something killers are doing these days. No identity, no ties.”
“Interesting that you mentioned it since Commander Lutz just found that information yesterday in the nationwide database. And the killer was never apprehended, right?”
“That’s correct.”
With a handshake of appreciation, I told them that was all the questions we had at the moment, but I called out to Chuck as they rode away. “I have a feeling we’ll be talking again.”
Henry, Frank, and I returned to Lutz’s side, where Shawn was already standing. From the twenty-foot perimeter that Don, Mike, and Danny needed to conduct their field examination, Lutz asked his usual questions.
“When do you think the victim was dumped, Don?”
“Definitely during the night since there’s morning dew on the body. It seems that our killer has an aversion to daylight hours.”
I snickered. “Yeah, since it’s easier to get caught in broad daylight.”