End of the Line

by C. M. Sutter

  “How do you—”

  “I’m a cop, now give me a better answer. I’m sure somebody that stuck around to help clean up the mess glanced at a clock.”

  “Okay, let me think. I did check the time when the last person walked out. It was two fifteen. I’m positive of it.”

  “So Callie and her buddies walked out before the last person?”

  “Yes, they left about ten minutes earlier. I know that as a fact.”

  “Okay, thanks for your time. I guess your parents can enjoy their vacation after all.” Frank hung up and gave me a grin. “Sometimes idle threats go a long way.”

  Now with the timeframes matching, I felt confident in searching the train schedules. I would add the ten-minute walk to the Red Line station, a few minutes spent waiting for the train to arrive, and then the half-hour ride to the end of the Red Line. That would give me a good idea of the train the girls were on. I included the trains before and immediately after that one, but those few trains were better than searching camera footage for every one during that one-thirty-to-three-thirty timeline.

  I passed that information on to Lutz, and he said he would contact Henry right away. Hopefully, they’d locate the right train and see Callie exiting, then check to see if anyone followed her.

  Chapter 6

  Returning to the scene after the fact was one of Richard’s favorite things to do. He was smart and worked his craft well. He knew how police operated, and he wouldn’t allow himself to be caught watching too closely. He’d taken the southbound Red Line back that morning, and now, with an egg-and-cheese muffin—which he would wash down with his third cup of coffee—he watched from the terminal’s second-story window. He peered out at the distant sidewalk where he’d murdered the blonde only a few hours earlier.

  Richard snickered at the thought that had entered his mind on so many occasions—he didn’t know any of the women’s names when he killed them. The introductions were made only once he saw the IDs in their wallets. His thoughts took him back to last night, when he’d opened Callie’s purse and pulled out her driver’s license. He’d stared at her long blond hair and green eyes in the photograph. Richard’s heart skipped a beat as he remembered the night he’d killed his wife, Amy, and that was likely the most excited he’d ever been. That rush had fueled the fire for more. He couldn’t quit—and had no intention to.

  Sorry our meeting was so brief last night, Callie, but you aren’t just a Jane Doe to me. You were a real person whose life I snuffed out within seconds, and I can call you by name when I reminisce about your demise. We’re connected now, like it or not.

  Richard had missed the moment when she was discovered that morning. Since it was a Saturday, he assumed people would sleep in, and he wasn’t expecting Callie to be found so early.

  At least I saw the detectives arrive and, a bit later, the ME and forensic boys.

  Richard chuckled when he thought of the detective who’d trotted those few blocks to the terminal and stood in line next to him to buy coffee.

  What are the odds? You just can’t make up that kind of shit.

  When he sucked in a deep breath, his teeth chattered. Another kill was on the horizon, and the excitement was overwhelming. Richard couldn’t help himself—it was in his family, in his genes, and in his blood. He was born to kill, or so he’d been told, and every life he took increased his desire to kill again.

  He looked out the window. The detectives had left, and the ME had taken Callie away. Other than the bloodstained sidewalk, which he would photograph once the heat died down, there was nothing that remained at the scene except a few officers milling around. They would soon be gone, too, and Richard would move on.

  I’ll hit the Blue Line later and pick a new stop to study, but right now, I need more sleep.

  Chapter 7

  The chicken salad sandwich and bag of chips from the vending machine would hold me over until supper. I tipped my wrist and checked the time—Callie’s parents were due to arrive any minute, and Lutz wanted me to sit in on their meeting. With my notepad securely tucked in my pocket for reference, I wolfed down my food then walked the hallway to my commander’s office.

  Mr. and Mrs. Conway hadn’t arrived yet, giving Lutz and me time to discuss what we had on the investigation up to that point—Callie’s family would definitely ask.

  “When was the last time you spoke to Henry?”

  With a twist, Lutz cracked open the plastic bottle top and took a swig of water. “Ten minutes ago, but I better check again. They need to locate Callie and follow her out of the terminal until the camera range ends. Somebody saw her on the L and realized she was half in the bag, which made her an easy target.”

  “Or it was a random person who saw her walking alone and jumped at the opportunity.”

  Lutz furrowed his brows. “Do murderers walk around in the middle of the night, hoping to come across someone to kill? My money says they ride the rails and pick the victim in advance.”

  “Sure, but I can see both scenarios working. The killer doesn’t know if the woman will exit the train alone, if she’ll catch a rideshare, or if somebody is waiting to walk home with her, but if they see her alone a few blocks from the station, then all bets are off. She’s easy pickings.”

  Lutz groaned. “Yeah, it could go either way.” He picked up the receiver, stretched the cord across his desk, tapped Henry’s number, and pressed Speakerphone.

  “Anything yet?”

  “Boss, we just spotted Callie exiting the train. Shawn has eyes on her right now.”

  “What’s the time?”

  “Hang on.”

  We heard Henry talking to Shawn, then he returned to the phone. “She got off the train at two forty-seven.”

  “Yep, and that fits with Don’s TOD estimate.”

  I cut in. “Henry, it’s Jesse. Does it look like anyone is following her?”

  “Not really. About ten people exited her car, and they all went separate ways.”

  “Shit. Then maybe a random person did see her walking alone and decided to rob her. She may have resisted and he killed her—a robbery gone bad.”

  “Bad for her, yes, but not for him. I’d say if it was an intended robbery, the crook got away with exactly what he was after.”

  Lutz took over. “Keep following her with the cameras until you can’t see her anymore. Take note of her route, and then we’ll look for more cameras beyond the terminal.”

  “Roger that.”

  We heard voices getting closer. Debra was leading Mr. and Mrs. Conway to Lutz’s office. When they entered, Bob and I rose from our chairs. Debra made the introductions and left. We shook their hands and said our condolences. I pulled a folding chair from the coat closet and offered the guest chairs to Callie’s parents.

  “Please, folks, have a seat.” Bob dropped to his chair with an audible sigh. “I’m sure you have questions that we can’t answer yet, but we’ll share what we know.”

  “And we appreciate that, Commander Lutz,” Dan Conway said. He squeezed his wife’s hand as they appeared to brace themselves for the worst.

  Lutz repeated the short version of what he’d told them over the phone earlier that day. Now, the details came into play, and they weren’t what any parent wanted to hear, although people always demanded to know everything.

  “Callie was discovered by a jogger early this morning around daybreak. She was lying on the sidewalk just over a block from home. Since our earlier conversation, we’ve learned that she attended a party at the Regency Condos at Millennium Park last night and then took the Red Line home.”

  Christine cried into her hands. “We’ve warned her that riding the L late at night is dangerous.”

  I took my turn. “We don’t have evidence yet that the attack came from another passenger. Somebody walking at that time of night could have seen an opportunity to rob her, and the fact that she didn’t have a purse or a phone on her body when she was found leads us to believe that robbery could have been a possible moti
ve.”

  “As opposed to what?” Dan asked. “Is there a murderer roaming the streets near the university that the public hasn’t been told about?”

  Lutz raised his hands. “Not at all, sir. We’re checking every possibility. That’s all.”

  “How did she die?” Christine asked. “I want the truth, not the sugar-coated version.”

  I glanced at Lutz and waited for his response.

  “Callie was stabbed, and she’d lost too much blood by the time she was discovered. I’m so sorry.”

  “Do you have any leads, Commander?”

  “Not yet, sir. It’s very early in the investigation, but I have my best detectives working the case.”

  Christine dabbed her eyes. “We need to see our daughter, and I want to take her home.”

  “I’ll call downstairs and have our medical examiner get her ready to ID, and then he’ll make the arrangements to have Callie transported to a funeral home of your choice.” Lutz stood. “If you’ll excuse me for just a minute.”

  As we waited for Bob’s return, I thought of recent murder cases that involved stabbings. As soon as I got back to the bullpen, I’d go through our records to see if any of the murders were similar to Callie’s.

  Bob was back in minutes. “Right this way, folks. I’ll take you downstairs, and the medical examiner will show Callie to you. There will be papers to sign, and he’ll go over that afterward in his office.”

  As they walked out, Bob turned back and whispered for me to stay put, so I did and took that time to call Frank.

  “Henry spotted Callie getting off the train,” I said as soon as Frank answered.

  “That’s good news. Finally, we have one thing we can cross off the list. And then what?”

  “And then nothing yet. Henry didn’t see anyone following her. Lutz said to keep their eyes on her until they run out of camera real estate. That’s where a handful of officers will come in and help check the neighboring streets for cameras. If somebody was following her, they’d be caught on a camera as they passed.”

  “Hell, I’ll take that task since I’m not good at sitting around anyway.”

  I knew how Frank felt. I’d rather be pounding the pavement and talking to potential witnesses, too, instead of pushing a pen, and as soon as Frank returned, I would let Lutz know we’d be happy to volunteer for that assignment.

  “Okay, I’ll keep you posted.” I hung up when I heard footsteps closing in on Lutz’s office.

  Seconds later, Bob walked in and dropped down in his chair. “That’s never easy.”

  I had to agree. “So why did you leave the room to call Don?”

  Lutz rubbed his forehead. “I wanted to make sure Callie was only exposed from her chin up. I explained that her folks hadn’t been told she was nearly decapitated. I also wanted to make sure Don informed the funeral home of Callie’s condition, too, so there wouldn’t be any surprises.”

  “Got it. Frank and I will volunteer to walk the neighborhood once Henry pinpoints a location where they lose track of Callie.”

  “Chair getting uncomfortable?”

  “Damn right it is.”

  Lutz tipped his wrist—12:49. “Let’s get an update from Henry and Shawn.” He dialed Henry’s phone and set the receiver back on the base after pressing Speakerphone. “Did you run out of cameras yet?”

  “Yeah, unfortunately, we did. She disappeared into the darkness on Ninety-Fifth Street just before State.”

  “Okay, logically, she’d take Ninety-Fifth to South Prairie and turn right. Her house is a block and a half down.”

  I checked the distance on my phone as Lutz talked. “It’s just over a half-mile walk, and I’m sure she’d want to stay in the better-lit areas.”

  Henry added his opinion. “At that time of night, there isn’t much open, and the area around the terminal isn’t that great. People could be driving around looking for opportunities, especially if they see a young woman walking by herself.”

  “There have to be plenty of cameras along the way on Ninety-Fifth Street,” I said.

  “Sure, at corner stores and fast-food joints, but she was found on her own quiet street, where there aren’t people or much traffic out at that time of night.”

  Lutz groaned. “True enough, but we have to check all possibilities. I’m sending Frank and Jesse out to help you and Shawn. I want every working camera along Ninety-Fifth Street up to South Prairie checked out. Callie’s assailant came from somewhere.”

  Chapter 8

  Richard woke at one thirty to his phone alarm then stumbled to the kitchen and made a cup of instant coffee. He sat at the table and stirred the granules into the cup, making sure they had dissolved. Tapping the gallery thumbnail on his phone, he stared at the pictures he’d taken last night after killing Callie. He would print them out—along with the one he would capture of the bloodstained sidewalk later—and tuck them away in his memory box.

  It has been filling up nicely.

  His thoughts prompted him to bring the box out from its hiding spot at the back of the closet. He’d be adding new photographs to it soon, anyway. Back at the table, Richard lit a cigarette, took in a deep pull, and lifted out the pictures one by one. Memories of each kill flooded his mind and made his heart race. That excitement was the reason he killed and why he couldn’t stop. Once he had the taste of it, murdering women was his drug of choice.

  At the bottom of the box were the pictures of Amy—first and foremost the best murder he’d ever committed.

  She deserved every ounce of pain I gave her. Women—especially blondes—can’t be trusted. They cheat, lie, and think they’re hot shit. She fooled around one too many times and paid dearly in the end. I gave her fair warning and opportunities to stop, but she lied through her teeth when she said she had. Nobody ever found the bits and pieces of her I dumped in the Chicago River, and when it was all said and done, she amounted to nothing more than fish food.

  Richard tapped the icon in his gallery and heard the printer come to life. The images of Callie’s lifeless and blood-soaked body would be added to his memory box for his viewing pleasure then deleted from his phone. He was a cautious man, which enabled him to continue his hobby a few nights a week, and later, he would scout out several Blue Line stops. On Monday night, somebody else would die.

  Chapter 9

  I answered my ringing phone just as Frank and I were about to leave. I held up my hand for him to wait as I listened to what Lutz was saying.

  “Hang on so I can write down the address.” Pinning the phone between my cheek and shoulder, I pulled out a pad of paper and a pen from my top desk drawer. “Okay, go ahead. Ninety-Fifth and State at the Quick Fill station’s dumpster. Yep, got it, and Foxworthy is waiting there for us to arrive. We’re on our way.” I grabbed evidence bags and gloves from our supply closet, then we took the back staircase out.

  “So what’s going on?” Frank asked as he followed me down the steps.

  “A gas station employee said he found a purse in their dumpster. Human nature says he likely pulled it out, checked its contents for money, and then called us.”

  “We’ll have Foxworthy bring him and the purse back here. He’ll have to be printed and questioned before we can rule him out, but it is what it is,” Frank said.

  Mills climbed into the driver’s seat of the first available cruiser, and I took the passenger seat. I called Foxworthy as Frank drove.

  “Hey, pal, it’s Jesse. Ask the gas station employee if he handled the purse.”

  “No need to. It was behind the counter when I got here. He said he moved it for safekeeping.”

  “Damn it. Tell him he’s going back to the station with you to be printed and that he better hope he doesn’t have a criminal record.”

  “Will do.”

  “We’ll be there in less than ten.”

  After pulling into the gas station a few minutes later, Frank parked facing the dumpster. With his phone in hand, he began snapping pictures, and I went inside to let F
oxworthy know we’d arrived and to have a talk with the employee who found the purse.

  Foxworthy jerked his head to the right. “That’s him stocking the soda refrigerator.”

  “Come on. Let’s have a word with him.” I introduced myself to the kid, who looked to be no more than eighteen. “What’s your name, son?”

  “Craig Forrester.”

  “How did you come upon the purse, and why did you touch it?”

  “I’d been stocking shelves, and I took the broken-down cardboard out to the dumpster. When I opened the lid, I saw the purse lying right on top of the trash.”

  “And you didn’t think to leave it alone until the police arrived?”

  He shrugged. “Sorry. I just wanted to make sure nobody stole it.”

  “And you didn’t open it to pull out the money first?”

  “No. There wasn’t a wallet inside, anyway.”

  “So you did open it to take the money?”

  He stammered. “Okay, yeah, but it was empty, so I called the cops. I should have left it in there since there wasn’t an ID to know who it belonged to, anyway, but I wanted to do the right thing.”

  I chuckled. “Sure you did. Show me exactly where you found it in the dumpster.”

  I escorted him outside, and Frank moved to the right.

  Craig pointed. “It was right there on top of that black trash bag.”

  Frank took pictures of the bag and the surrounding trash. “You got a criminal record, kid?”

  “No.”

  “That’s a definite no?”

  “I promise I don’t.”

  I raised a concerned brow. “So we can confirm that with your folks?”

  He looked from Frank to Foxworthy and then back at me and nodded.

  I waved Foxworthy on. “Get his information off his driver’s license and cut him loose.” I handed Foxworthy a pair of gloves and an evidence bag from the cruiser. “Bag the purse and take it to the crime lab.” I turned back to the kid. “You better hope you aren’t in the system. If we pull your prints off the purse and you’re in our database, you’re going to be in a lot of trouble. Feel me?”