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“Immediately after? I screamed. Really loud. A bunch of people started to crowd around and freak out. Well, most of them freaked out. Some of them started taking pictures and videos and stuff. You know, the typical immature childish stuff.”
“Right,” Faith said. “When were the police called?”
“As soon as I stopped screaming,” Kylie replied. “Maybe five minutes?”
“And how long did it take for police to respond?”
“Not long. The terminal is a high traffic area, and there are always officers around during business hours.”
Faith nodded. “Did you notice anything unusual about Mr. McIlhenny other than his dress and seating position?”
She shook her head. “Not really. I mean, he was covered from head to toe, so if he was wounded or something, I wouldn’t really be able to see anything.”
“What about from anyone else at the terminal? Did anyone behave unusually or seem suspicious or out of the ordinary to you?”
“No, not really,” she replied. “I mean, I see tons of people every day, and I see a lot of unusual things, so I wouldn’t know really if people were being strange or if that’s just how they always are.”
“But no one especially comes to mind from yesterday?”
She shook her head. “No, not really. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” Faith said. “You’ve been very helpful. Is there anything else you think we need to know?”
She shook her head again.
“All right,” Faith said.
She stood and reached inside her wallet for a card. “If you do think of anything else, Kylie, please let us know. Rest assured, the FBI and the police department are doing everything we can to apprehend this killer.”
Kylie offered a smile that did not seem at all reassured. She took Faith’s card and gave Turk a hug before walking the two agents to the door. She gave Turk another hug before they left, and Faith’s heart went out to her. She was so young—too young to see things like this.
Then again, Faith was only nineteen when she was shipped to Afghanistan to see far worse things than Kylie had seen. She wondered if Kylie would recover from her trauma the way that Faith had recovered from hers.
Then she wondered if she ever did recover from the trauma of warfighting or if Trammell’s attack only exacerbated a problem that existed long before she’d ever heard of the Donkey Killer. She decided to ask Doctor West about that the next time they spoke.
Michael called the coroner’s office as soon as they were in the car. The office was a distance removed from the urban center, and Michael announced it would take them twenty-five minutes to reach it. Faith decided to take a nap on the way. She managed to close her eyes, but as often happened when she was working a case, her mind raced too much for her to sleep.
Why would someone kill a man, change his outfit, and stage him on a bench in a subway terminal? What message was he trying to send? Or was he just crazy?
In Faith’s experience, the answer was a combination of both.
In Faith’s experience, that meant this killer was incredibly dangerous.
CHAPTER SIX
The coroner’s office was located in a massive precinct building that was nearly as large as the Philadelphia Field Office. Faith and Michael checked in with reception and were quickly ushered to the coroner’s office.
The coroner was a stocky woman of around forty who introduced herself as Amy Ashley. “I know,” she said, “two first names. My parents have a very well-developed sense of humor.”
“Do you prefer Amy or Miss Ashley?” Michael asked.
“Well, aren’t you polite?” Amy answered with a smile. “Amy’s fine. You’re here about Mr. McIlhenny?”
“Yes,” Faith said. “Can we see him?”
“Follow me.”
Amy led them down a flight of stairs toward the basement where the autopsy rooms and morgue were located. “Can’t stand elevators,” she said. “Did you ever see that horror movie where Naomi Watts is a reporter who investigates a possessed elevator?”
