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“No cameras in the immediate area. We’re going to canvass the neighborhood in the morning when the businesses are open.”
It was time for us to go inside. I elected to go in and leave Hollis behind the second barrier. Jackson had a disposable hooded biohazard suit for me to slip over my regular clothes. I’d done it enough times that it didn’t take too long. The suit would keep me from contaminating the crime scene as well as protect me from any pathogens that might be present.
It’s no exaggeration to say the scene took my breath away, even with Jackson’s warning and my recent experience at Chloe Tumber’s apartment. At first, I thought the apartment was just poorly lit. Then I realized there was so much blood smeared on the walls that it made the whole apartment appear dark. With this much blood, I understood the concern that there could be more unaccounted-for victims.
It didn’t get any better as I stepped into the living room, where several crime-scene techs were photographing the space from a dozen different angles. In the middle, on a round carpet, lay the body of the young woman. She had a horrendous wound in her neck as well as a stab wound in her left eye. Blood and other fluids had pooled on the floor.
I tried to keep my composure as Jackson led me around the apartment. The victim looked so young. She must’ve been close in age to my oldest daughter, Juliana. All I could think about was who would notify her parents. To lose a child was horrendous. To lose one like this was unimaginable. I quickly said a prayer for her departed soul.
When we stepped back into the living room, an assortment of baseball bobbleheads caught my eye. The figurines were lined up on a shelf near the kitchen, but there was a gap between four on the right side and ten on the left side. It looked strangely deliberate. Were there some missing? I noticed blood dribbled over the heads of the bobbleheads—but only the four on the right. The application was different from the blood spread on the walls.
What did that mean? I made a note to check the crime-scene photos from Chloe Tumber’s apartment, confer with Terri and Javier about any blood at their crime scenes that seemed intentionally placed.
It wasn’t obvious to me yet, but the blood on the walls and tabletops and bed told a story. The message I got most strongly was that the killer wasn’t finished. No way someone did a killing this methodical, this deliberately bloody, then just quit and never do it again.
This one had me worried.
Chapter 15
I stepped back into the hallway and lowered the hood of my biohazard suit to get some fresh air. Just like Dan Jackson had predicted, there were several uniformed officers out there already, who seemed to have stopped by just to gawk at the bloody scene. Jackson wasn’t having any of it.
He barked at patrol officers, a sergeant, and even the local precinct lieutenant to get lost. None of them gave him any shit either. The lieutenant mumbled something about being the local commander on duty but still walked away as he was ordered.
I walked to the other end of the hallway, where Hollis and a couple of other detectives had set up a little command post with computers and evidence boxes.
Hollis sat on the floor at the very end of the hallway, working on a laptop. I was pleased to see he interacted well with the other detectives, gathering information we would need for a summary to our own bosses.
One of the detectives looked up from his computer screen and asked, “Is the FBI here? Someone from the mayor’s office is asking.”
Another detective said, “They said someone would swing by in the morning. Tell the mayor’s office the FBI is in the loop. That should shut them up.”
When Hollis saw me, I motioned him toward the apartment. I let him pass the first barrier and then stopped him at the door. He hadn’t been issued a biohazard suit because Harry Grissom had him on data collection, but I thought he ought to take a look at this truly bizarre and horrible crime scene.
It was even worse than what we’d seen at Chloe Tumber’s place.
I thought I might have to catch Hollis as he looked into the apartment. His legs got shaky and he took a big gulp of air, but he seemed stronger than he had at Chloe’s apartment.
“I’m gonna say we’re dealing with a true nut in this case,” I said.
“That’s not an official NYPD term.” He tried to smile.
“It’s not a term used by any professionals. But I dare someone to look in that apartment and not say whoever did it is bat-shit crazy.”
I’ll admit, I was creeped out. This guy was a new level of nasty.
Chapter 16
I hit the streets, and Hollis hit the books.
The next day, after spending all day interviewing techs and comparing photos of the New York crime scenes we were trying to connect, I made a beeline for the Manhattan North Homicide office, one floor of an office building owned by Columbia University but nowhere near campus.
It wasn’t particularly flashy, convenient, or blessed with decent views, but I still loved my office. Its best quality was its location—nowhere near One Police Plaza. It was pure homicide investigation, no precinct built arou
nd it.
I walked in to find Hollis asleep at his desk, surrounded by stacks of notebooks and color-coded folders. After a few minutes, he popped awake and went right back to reading like he’d never been asleep. That was the mark of a smart cop.
“You ever read about serial killers?” he asked once he realized I was there. He held out a sheaf of printouts.
