With our lunch finished, we were back in the car, and J.T. merged onto the Indiana Toll Road, also known as Interstate-90.
“Okay, ten miles to go. You’ll take the Buchanan Street exit and go south to West Sixth Avenue, then turn left. No, scratch that. It’s a one-way street. We’ll go to West Seventh, turn left, then backtrack a few blocks to Polk. The police department is at 555 Polk Street, and it must be on the fourth floor. I’ll go over it again once we exit the freeway. It seems simple enough.”
“Yeah, okay. Did you get the texts from Val? There’s plenty of time to check into the hotel first if it’s close enough to the police station.”
I pulled up my phone again and read the text Val had sent an hour earlier. I hadn’t even thought of it until J.T. asked. I’d been busy trying to come up with reasons somebody would drain blood from their victims. In my mind, removing the blood seemed more important than the actual kill.
“Looks like we’ll be checking in later, after we pay the ME a visit. The nicer hotels are near Merrillville, south of Gary. Actually they’re just over halfway to Crown Point. Val booked our rooms at the Fairfield Inn and Suites off of I-65.”
J.T. clicked his blinker when he saw the sign for the Buchanan Street exit a mile ahead. I craned my neck and looked over my shoulder. “You’re okay to get over.”
“Thanks.” J.T. crossed two lanes of traffic and stayed to the far right. “So who do we ask for when we get to the PD?”
“Looks like Captain Mark Sullivan is the man in charge. I imagine he’s our initial”—I made air quotes—“‘go-to guy,’ but he probably has a slew of detectives on the case.”
J.T. took the exit ramp and turned right onto Buchanan Street. “Now where?”
“Go south until you get to West Seventh Street. Turn left, then another left a few blocks later on Polk. We’ll head back north until we see the building.”
“That’s confusing.”
“Nah, it’s just because of the one-way streets. You live in Milwaukee. You should be used to it.” I spread my fingers across the phone screen and enlarged the picture of the police department. “It looks like that building has a gated parking structure. That’s probably our best bet.”
J.T. turned left on Polk. “We’re almost there.”
I stared through the windshield and lifted my sunglasses. In the downtown area, the large buildings blocked the light, anyway. “We should see 555 Polk Street coming up in a minute.”
We found the building and the entrance to the parking garage. Luckily, it was a manned booth. I’m sure that was only because the building housed government offices. J.T. pulled forward. When we approached, I saw the guard glance down at our government plates.
“Get your badge ready. You know he’ll want to see it,” J.T. said.
I unclipped my FBI badge from the lanyard and handed it to J.T. He shifted the car into Park, leaned forward, and pulled the bifold badge wallet from his back pocket.
“Afternoon, sir,” J.T. said as he passed the badges out the car window.
“Here to see anyone in particular, Agent…”—the guard looked down at J.T.’s badge— “Harper?”
“We have a meeting set up with Captain…” J.T. looked at me.
“Um, give me a second.” I checked the text again then leaned toward the window so the guard could see me. “Captain Sullivan, sir.”
“One moment, please.”
We waited as he made a quick call and mentioned our names. He held our badges then hung up. “You’re good to go. The police department is on the fourth floor, so I’d look for an open parking spot on that level. There’s an enclosed footbridge that will take you directly into the building. Have a nice day, agents.” He handed our badges back through the window, pressed a button, and lifted the gate. He gave us a nod as J.T. drove through.
“Humph. They’ve got good security here.”
“Don’t be that impressed. It’s only because this is a rough neighborhood. That’s why Val couldn’t find any decent hotels around here. I don’t know if you noticed or not, but that guard was armed.”
“Yeah, I saw that too.” Once J.T. reached level four, I watched for an open parking space. I pointed at taillights backing up. “It looks like that car is leaving.”
“Perfect timing.” J.T. waited until the vehicle pulled out and drove away, then he slipped the cruiser into that designated visitors’ spot.
“Hang on a sec. I want to call Spelling before we get out.”
J.T. reached for his phone and checked emails while I made the call.
“Hello, sir. Just wanted to tell you we’re about to head into the police station. We had an uneventful drive, and I’ll call you back as soon as we leave here to go to the medical examiner’s office. Okay, talk to you later.” I clicked off, and J.T. silenced his phone and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
“What did Spelling say?”
“Nothing except to call him again after our initial meeting here.”
J.T. pulled the keys out of the ignition and hooked them on his index finger. “Ready?”
“Yeah, I have the folders.”
We exited the car, and J.T. hit the lock button on the fob. He pocketed the keys, and we crossed the footbridge into the police department. Inside, we approached the long counter that spanned the width of the waiting area. Four officers, two male and two female, sat behind the counter, busy with various duties.
A female officer stood and called us over. “May I help you?”
J.T. spoke for both of us. “Yes, thanks. We’re FBI Agents Harper and Monroe, here to see Captain Sullivan. He’s expecting us.”
We automatically pulled out our badges because showing them to her was likely the next thing she’d ask us to do.
She smiled. “Reading my mind, are you?” She compared our faces to the images on the IDs then asked us to sign in. “Captain Sullivan should be out to greet you in just a minute.” She pointed at the waiting lounge. “There are beverages and magazines over there if you’d like to have a seat.”
I thanked her, and we poured ourselves coffee and paced. I had sat enough during the last few hours.
“Agents Harper and Monroe, I assume? I’m Captain Sullivan.”
We turned to see a tall man, possibly twenty pounds overweight, heading toward us with his hand outstretched. He looked to be in his mid-forties with balding brown hair and a thin mustache.
I pocketed the sunglasses that were still on the top of my head and gave him a firm handshake. “I’m Agent Monroe, and this gentleman is Agent Harper. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”
“Likewise.” He shook J.T.’s hand and pointed at the hallway. “Right this way, agents. My office is around the corner.”
We walked the glossy tiled hallway with Captain Sullivan to a large glass-walled office. Two comfortable looking guest chairs faced a desk stacked sky-high with paperwork. He tipped his head toward the mess.
“See why we need your help?” He gestured toward the chairs. “Please, have a seat. I’ll summarize what we know so far.” Captain Sullivan plopped down on his desk chair. The leather let out a long objecting hiss. “I have two detectives working this case exclusively, and they can go over details more thoroughly with you. They took the witness statements, they’ve spoken with the families, and they’ve gone over the autopsy results with the medical examiner.”
“You said witness statements?”
“Well, by that, I mean the person who called in the discovery in each case. We don’t actually have witnesses, per se, who saw an assailant or anyone disposing of the bodies at the locations where they were found.”
“Understood,” J.T. said. “Are there any theories bubbling in your, or the detectives’, minds?”
“Nothing that has panned out. We’ve had time, agents, since the first and second girls were discovered in December several weeks apart. Originally, we thought the first girl was an isolated murder until the second girl was found in that abandoned house. The manner of death looked identical in both cases. The serial factor didn’t come into play until the third girl was found Saturday.” He rubbed his head with both open hands.
I offered my two cents. “It seems like the MO has changed a bit. According to the missing persons reports filed by the families, and the dates that the first two girls were discovered, there was a span of a few months before they were found. But this last young lady was discovered in less than two days. That could tell us a number of things.”
“Such as?” Captain Sullivan looked at me with what appeared to be renewed hope.
“One scenario could be that he waited to dump the first two victims because the outside temperature was still too warm when they actually died. It seemed like he tried to throw off the TOD by keeping those girls frozen. Otherwise their remains would have been decomposed. Now that the weather is below freezing, anyway, it doesn’t matter. He can dump his victims right away. Another theory could be that the living arrangements have changed for the perp. He, or she, may not have a secure place to hide their victims anymore.”
J.T. added, “Or, they may feel remorse and want to get the body out of sight. Another scenario could be they got word of unexpected company stopping by and had to dispose of the last girl quickly. See what we’re getting at? Every new piece of the puzzle we find and put together leads us one step closer to the killer.”
“Thank you, agents. That gives me hope.” The captain stood. “I’ll introduce you to the detectives on the case. Please join me in the conference room.”