End of the Line

by C. M. Sutter

  “Our thoughts exactly.” When my name was called, I looked over my shoulder. Clayborn was returning with the coffees and needed help. I grabbed two from him and set them on the hood of the nearest police car. “So, could you see us from the terminal?”

  “Yep, although I couldn’t identify anyone.”

  “Good enough. You want me to send someone over there, Boss, to start viewing the camera footage?”

  “Call Henry. He and Shawn can handle that task.”

  “Sure thing.” I stepped away and made the call, and by Henry’s dry voice, it sounded like I woke him. “Hey, pal, it’s Jesse.”

  “It’s Saturday, for God’s sake.”

  “Yeah, and that sucks. We need you and Shawn at the Ninety-Fifth Street CTA terminal. We’ve got a murder victim a few blocks southeast of there, and Lutz wants you to review the camera footage. I’ll text you the address where we are. Come here first.”

  “Okay, give us a half hour. I’ll call Shawn now.”

  I turned my attention back to the scene. Mike and Danny, our forensic specialists, had arrived. Our investigation could go forward the moment they finished taking pictures and Don had a chance to examine the body. Sipping my coffee, I walked to each end of the block and stared at the ground. Even though I was hoping, I didn’t expect a clue to magically appear. Real life was a lot tougher than a two-hour movie where everything was neatly wrapped up and the killer was in custody before the ending credits rolled. I checked the sidewalk, the street, and the patch of grass between the two. Nothing caught my attention, so I headed back to watch the process alongside Lutz.

  “Go ahead, Don. I’ll snap a few more pics once you turn her over,” Danny said.

  Don knelt again, and with the help of his assistant, Mark Nells, they carefully turned the woman over. Her head fell backward more than we would have expected.

  “Jesus Christ! Her head is barely attached,” Lutz said.

  Don cupped his hand at the base of the woman’s skull to hold her head in place while Danny took six more pictures. Other than the gaping wound to her neck, the rest of her front side appeared untouched. Don pointed out the torn and bloody skin on her knees.

  “I’d say this was a surprise attack from the back to disable her, a slice across the throat to finish her off, and then she dropped to her knees and fell face-first to the pavement. That’s how he left her, and this is the spot where she took her last breath.”

  “That’s how I see it too,” Lutz said. “How long has she been here? I need to give Henry a timeline to go by when they watch the CTA footage.”

  Don tried to bend her arms and legs. “Rigor is setting in, and her front side is dark blue from blood pooling.” He pushed up his sleeve and checked the time. “Friday-night partying with friends, possibly, and bars close late. It’s six thirty right now. She’s been dead between three and five hours, I’d say, and I’ll confirm that with her body temperature. The Red Line trains run twenty-four seven, and if she was a passenger, you should see her exiting the terminal. That’ll give us a pretty accurate TOD.”

  Lutz agreed. “Okay, I’ll let Henry know what footage times to watch when they get here.”

  I shook my head. “We still can’t move forward until we find out who she is. How about covering that neck wound so I can take a picture? I’ll head over to the university, talk to whatever staff is available on the weekend, show them her picture, and see if somebody can tell me a name.”

  “Good idea,” Lutz said. “Wake up Mills too. He can give you a hand.”

  “Copy that.”

  Danny texted me one of his better pictures of the victim from her chin up. A picture of a dead body was never good, but we needed one without blood evidence showing. I made the call to Mills, and luckily, he was already awake, showered, and downing his second cup of coffee. According to Frank’s calculations, he should arrive at the scene in fifteen minutes.

  I polished off my coffee, which was now cold, and tossed the cup in a curbside garbage can. Neighborhood people began to gather, and the officers had to push back the police tape a half block.

  “Mark, get a portable barrier set up here,” Lutz said. “We don’t need this poor woman’s dead body on everyone’s social media page.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  We stood out of the way as Don completed his field exam behind the privacy barrier. I took that time to search faces in the crowd for anyone who appeared too interested in what was going on. From the whispers I’d heard, it sounded like most people were genuinely horrified to know a murder had happened on their street.

  The familiar rattle of the loose muffler sounded as Frank’s truck turned on the block. He’d said that when he had time, he would have his truck serviced, but lately, we’d all been too busy, and that included weekends. I shielded my eyes from the sun as he parked by the police tape. He got out and headed our way.

  “What’s the short version?” he whispered when he reached my side.

  “She looks young, possibly a student at the state university. No ID and no phone. Looks like a stab wound to the back and a very deep slash across the neck that nearly severed her head.”

  “Jesus. Who’s canvassing the neighborhood? I didn’t see anyone talking to the crowd back there.” Frank pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

  “Yeah, Tillson, Foxworthy, and Clayborn have already spoken to everyone on this street. Nobody saw or heard anything during the night. Henry and Shawn are at the Dan Ryan CTA terminal on Ninety-Fifth to see if their camera footage caught anything last night. From Don’s estimated TOD, she was likely out after bar hours.”

  “So she could have taken the train from anywhere?”

  “Yep, that’s how we see it.” I jerked my head toward Lutz. “Let’s tell him we’re leaving. If the girl was a student, then somebody at the university should recognize her face.”

  Frank called out to Lutz, and the commander looked over his shoulder.

  “Just wanted to let you know I’m here, Boss.”

  “Good. You two heading out?”

  I jingled my car keys. “Yeah, and hopefully somebody knows her, but if she lived in a dorm, you’d think her absence would have already been reported by a roommate.”

  “Head out, then, and keep me updated.”

  Since my car was the closest to the scene, I offered to drive. I circled the block and took East Ninety-Fifth Street to one of the several entrances to the university. Pulling to the curb, I stared at the signs.

  Frank gave me a side-eyed glance. “What’s wrong?”

  “Deciding where to go. The university police would likely be the most helpful, yet they probably wouldn’t know her.”

  “How about the dorm staff?” Frank pointed at the arrow that showed Residence Hall was to our left.

  I shook my head. “It’s Saturday, and I doubt that anyone is working.”

  “There’s only one way to find out. Besides, it’s been forever since I’ve stepped foot in a college dorm.”

  Chapter 3

  We entered Residence Hall, and to our surprise, employees were behind the front desk. I assumed they were the building’s gatekeepers, which was perfect for us. That was a start and would give us somebody to talk to who might recognize our Jane Doe. Frank and I approached the counter and pulled out our badges. A perplexed expression crossed the face of the redhead on our left.

  “Hello, Detectives. I’m sure you’re looking for the university police. Their department is in the Physical Plant Building southeast of us.”

  I spoke up. “Actually, we aren’t looking for the police, but we may speak to them before we leave. The reason we’re here is because we need to track down a possible student.”

  The redhead smiled. “That doesn’t sound too difficult. All I have to do is enter her name in the student database and see if she pops up.” She stared at me and waited.

  I rubbed my chin. “There’s a slight problem. We don’t know her name, but we do have a photograph of her.”

  A confused
look spread on the face of Dena, a woman with black hair. “I guess we don’t understand. Do you actually know she’s a student here?”

  Frank took over and tried to make the explanation clearer. “We don’t know that definitively, but she looks to be of college age, and she was found between the school and the CTA terminal.”

  “Found? What—”

  I interrupted. “What that means, ma’am, is that she’s dead, and there wasn’t any identification on her body.” I hated to sound so blunt, but tiptoeing around the subject wasn’t getting us anywhere. We needed to find out who she was as soon as possible so we could contact her family. “Can you look at the picture and tell us if she seems familiar to you?”

  Both women nodded, and the dark-haired woman held out her hand. I placed my phone in her palm, and she looked at the photograph of the Jane Doe.

  “Oh my Lord! That’s Callie Conway. She’s in several classes with my niece and is well-known on campus. Callie was an honor student and studying to be a nurse.”

  I took notes as fast as Dena could talk.

  “Does she live here, at Residence Hall?” Frank asked.

  The redhead, Betsy, took her turn. “She stayed here during her first year, but now she rents a house off campus with three other girls.”

  “Thank you. Now, would you happen to have that address?”

  Betsy rolled back her chair and stood. “Give me a minute to pull her file.” We waited as Betsy walked behind the counter and entered a room that had Student Records centered across the door. She returned within a few minutes, carrying a folder. “Here we go. Callie Conway lives in the lower unit of a duplex just south of East Ninety-Sixth Street on South Prairie.”

  We thanked her and left with the address in hand. Frank and I would check in with the roommates then talk to the university police if we felt it was warranted.

  Five minutes later, we exited my car in front of a well-kept two-story brick house. Two doors stood side by side on the porch—the left went to Callie’s unit. Frank rang the buzzer, and we waited. The high-pitched barking behind the door made me groan.

  “That’s an ankle-biter if I’ve ever heard one.”

  Frank chuckled. “About the size of a football, I’d say.”

  I had to laugh too. “Knock it off. You’d never punt a pup.”

  After the dog’s barking ended, I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. I assumed the dog was placed in a different room.

  Seconds later, the door opened until the chain lock stopped it at six inches. From the half of a young woman’s face that was visible, and her puffy left eye and tangled hair, we likely had woke her up. I glanced at my watch as Frank introduced us and showed her his badge. I imagined that at eight thirty in the morning, most young adults—especially after a Friday night out—were still asleep.

  “Sorry to wake you, miss,” Frank continued, “but there are questions my partner and I need to ask you and your roommates.”

  Her voice cracked when she spoke. “Why?” She looked over her shoulder. “Everyone is asleep as far as I know.”

  “And we’d appreciate it if you’d wake them up. It’s important.”

  She groaned then rubbed her eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I held up my hand before she turned away. “Miss, this isn’t a request. We need to speak to everyone in the house now, so would you mind letting us in?”

  “I guess.” After closing the door so she could disconnect the chain lock, she pulled it open. She gave the living room a frown. “Go ahead and sit if you can find a spot.”

  I glanced at the mess. “We’re good, thanks.”

  “Suit yourself. I’ll be right back.”

  Frank and I waited silently. I wondered if all college kids were that indifferent to the appearance of their living quarters. Three open pizza boxes lay on the coffee table and couch, with pizza slices still in each of them. Booze bottles, beer cans, tipped-over plastic cups, and overflowing ashtrays indicated that a party had taken place the night before. Blankets that were wadded up on the floor began to move, and a groan sounded. Somebody had been sleeping under them.

  “Hey,” Frank called out, “let’s see your face.”

  A young man uncovered his head and peered out at us. “Who the hell are you?”

  “The police, so wake your brain up. We have questions for everyone in the house.”

  Moments later, the girl who had answered the door, three other females, and two males stumbled out of the bedrooms and entered the living room.

  “Everyone have a seat.” I scanned the faces, and as we already knew, none were Callie Conway.

  “Before anything, we need a name and address for each of you.” I pointed at the young man beneath the blanket. “Let’s start with you. Do you live here?”

  “No. I was just too drunk last night to go home.”

  Frank smirked. “So you’re all over twenty-one?”

  Eyes darted from one to another.

  “Um, no, but—”

  “Don’t worry. We didn’t show up to bust you for underage drinking. What’s your name?”

  “Jack Simpson.”

  “So, who actually lives here?”

  Three girls, including the one who answered the door, raised their hands. The rest of the group sat solemnly.

  “Okay, names, please.” After collecting the names of everyone, and the addresses of the visitors, I asked if Callie Conway lived there.

  Alisha, the girl who answered the door, spoke up. “Uh-huh, but she isn’t here.”

  “Do you have any idea where she is or where she may have gone last night?”

  Lilly added her two cents. “She went to a house party where her friend’s parents live. Apparently, they’re on vacation.”

  Frank took over again. “Any idea who that person is or where the parents live?”

  Everyone shrugged.

  Lilly continued. “All I know is that the girl is somebody from one of Callie’s classes, but she lives in the dorm. She obviously couldn’t have the party there. I remember Callie saying it was her twentieth birthday.” Lilly looked to her friends. “She must have crashed there.”

  I sucked in a breath and pulled my phone from my pocket. “Can all of you confirm that this is Callie?” I walked the room with my phone in hand.

  Beth, the third roommate spoke up. “Yes, that’s Callie, but why do you have her picture on your phone?”

  Alisha began to cry. “Why do you think, Beth? Callie is dead.” She wiped her eyes and stared at Frank and me. “Right? Callie is dead, isn’t she?”

  I nodded. “I’m sorry to tell you, but yes, she is.”

  The young men cursed, and the girls cried.

  Frank raised his palms. “We need help from all of you. Do any of you have Callie’s parents’ phone number or know their address?”

  They said they didn’t and only knew that the parents lived in Kenosha.

  “Okay, how about their first names?”

  Alisha remembered the mother’s name was Christine, but she couldn’t recall the father’s name. “We were housemates and had a few classes together, but none of us were best friends. I’m originally from Iowa, but the state university has a great nursing program. That’s how Callie and I got together.”

  I wrote that down. “The university staff told us Callie was in the nursing program and that she was an honor student.”

  Beth mentioned how bright Callie was. “She was way smarter than the rest of us and she always had the answers to everything.”

  Jack took his turn. “How does somebody our age die? Callie wasn’t sick.”

  “We’re homicide detectives, so I guess that explains things, but that’s all we can tell you. Did Callie mention anyone being angry with her?”

  “Dude, we’re kids. Everything rolls off our backs.”

  I smiled. “My name isn’t dude, son. It’s Detective McCord.”

  “Sorry, man—I mean, Detective McCord.”

  “So, that’s a no? Nobody has
threatened Callie that any of you are aware of?”

  They said no and had nothing more to add.

  “Does Callie have a tablet or a laptop here?”

  Alisha stood. “I’ll get her laptop.” She took the hallway to the last bedroom and retrieved the computer.

  “Does she share that bedroom with one of you?”

  Beth nodded. “Me.”

  “Okay. I’m going to have some officers stop in and collect Callie’s personal effects. Until then, I don’t want anybody going in that bedroom. Understood?”

  They said they did, and I stepped outside for a minute to call Lutz. He answered right away.

  “Jesse, what have you found out?”

  “We have her name, Boss—it’s Callie Conway—and right now, we’re at the house she shares with three other girls. We’re just down the street from you guys. Frank and I are going to take her laptop back to the station with us and have Tech take a look at it. We’ll need a few officers from the scene to come here and clear the bedroom of her personal items and bring them back to the station too. Since she shared a bedroom with another roommate, we don’t want anything of Callie’s to go missing.”

  “Understood. Text me the address, and I’ll send a few officers over right away. I’m about to head back to the precinct myself. So, where was Callie from?”

  “Her parents live in Kenosha. One of the roommates said her mom’s name is Christine, but they didn’t know the dad’s name.”

  “Okay, I’ll track them down and give them the bad news.”

  I ended the call by telling Lutz we’d wait at the house for the officers to arrive. I swiped the screen and disconnected the call. Back inside, I had a few more questions for the kids. “Does anyone know how Callie got to that party last night? Did she get picked up?”

  Nobody knew for sure, but they did say that all of them used the L often, and from the Ninety-Fifth Street station, the only way to go was north.

  “Does anybody know what time she left?”

  Another round of shrugs and head shakes were aimed our way. Those kids weren’t making our job easy. That was a fact. As we waited for the officers to arrive, I handed out my cards, and Frank asked more questions about Callie. We needed to know who her closest friends were since there was a chance that they could have gone to the party with her. We’d make another stop at the university before heading to the precinct.