John Steel Collection - Books 1-3

Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The morning brought a blood-red sunrise that blazed across the sky as if the heavens themselves were on fire, and a multitude of colours filled the canvas of the early morning sky. Samantha McCall rose and started her usual morning ritual; get up, make coffee, hit the shower, get dressed, and have breakfast. As she sat and chewed her usual bowlful of sugary cereal, McCall scanned the TV news for what the media were giving away on this case. Luckily, they had nothing, just some babble about a serial killer. Fine, she thought: the less these vultures knew, the better, for the moment at least. Too many times, the press had messed up a case because they were too eager to put out information. McCall finished dressing and headed for work.

The main hall of the 11th precinct was full of people, some waiting to file reports, others to get booked. McCall passed the desk Sergeant, who waved to draw her attention.

‘Hey, Sam,’ the large white-haired desk Sergeant said, handing her a post-it note. ‘The doc says she wants to see you.’

‘Thanks, Sarge,’ she replied, then headed for the elevator.

McCall headed back to the parking lot and to her Mustang. McCall wondered what was so important, but it didn’t matter. She needed some girl talk time.

Traffic on 1st Avenue was bustling, but no more than usual at that time of day. The Medical examiner's office was in a tall complex on 26th Street. McCall parked on 1st Avenue behind two trucks and walked to 26th Street and the entrance of the tall grey building of the Offices of the Chief Medical Examiner.

The inside looked friendlier than the outside, but it still looked like a hospital. McCall took the elevator down to the morgue and Tina Franks’s office, which she named the ‘cutting room.’

‘Morning, Tina,’ McCall greeted her friend.

Tina Franks was slightly shorter than McCall but had more hourglass build.

Where McCall had a lean athletic look about her, Tina had the curves of an exotic cheerleader. Her father was a marine whose family had come to the States from Jamaica. Her mother had been a Brazilian law student studying in New York. They had met at a mutual friend’s party, and the rest, they said, was history.

‘Well, it’s about time, girlfriend,’ Tina replied.

‘So, what we got?’ asked McCall, eager to get some news.

‘Well, the blood was drained from both Vic’s, so we couldn’t get a tox screen from that, but we have other ways, don’t worry, the killers are just making me earn my money,’ Tina mumbled. ‘We got nothing from this one’s prints, so it looks like she was a good little girl. We’re waiting for her dental records.’ Tina used her pen to point to the slab behind her.

‘The other one?’ McCall asked.

Tina shrugged. ‘I wish I could tell you more, Sam, but we are backed up now. So soon as I get something.’

McCall thanked her friend and then left to go upstairs. God, I need coffee, McCall thought as she entered the elevator.

The trip back to the 11th was slow because of the one-way system. McCall had to follow the 1st Avenue until 29th Street, turn onto 2nd Avenue, head south, and head east and back to the precinct. McCall drove with her window down and the car radio on, playing some tunes from the nineties.

Sam McCall was soon back at her desk in the bustling chaos of the Homicide department. Phones were ringing madly; there was the sound of computer keys rattling.

It was a maddening melee of noise and confusion. But to McCall, it was sheer music, a Precinct Symphony.

McCall grabbed her mug from her desk and headed for the break room for that much-needed coffee.

The rest of the morning Sam McCall spent going through Missing Person Records. She even went back to walking around latest the crime scene. Hoping to get some idea of where the latest victim came from.

The first victim had plenty of money from what they could gather, judging by her almost perfect appearance: with her manicured nails, perfect teeth, and stylish dyed hair, everything indicated wealth.

So why had no one reported her missing?

Unable to find anything from the neighbourhood, Sam returned, exhausted from the constant walking.

Sam McCall sat on the edge of her desk, one arm across her waist, the other bent up at the elbow. She held a black whiteboard marker in her hand, with which she was tapping her bottom lip in thought.

The large, shiny whiteboard was filled with photos and scribbles of ideas and information on the Vic’s.

A thick black strip of tape ran down the centre, dividing the area into two parts that held both the victims' information, to which there wasn’t much.

McCall stared at the board intently, her eyes scanning to pick up something they had in common, but the harder she looked, the more she worried that she might be missing something.

Tooms joined her while Tony Marinelli was busy on the phone.

‘We checked the database for prints, came up nada, checked with the FBI, got nothing there either,’ Tooms announced.

As Tooms spoke, Tony put the phone down and hastily scribbled something on a bit of paper before jumping up and hurrying over.

‘Well, we may have a lead on the first Vic,’ Tony announced, perching beside McCall on the edge of her desk.

‘It appears a young lawyer in the Brookman building never showed up for a big meeting the other day, and they haven’t been able to reach her,’ Tony said.

‘Good, that may be our first proper lead,’ McCall said. She looked over at the wall clock. It was already six o’clock. She was beginning to wonder where the day had gone.

‘You two go there first thing in the morning as soon as the workers show up,’ McCall said. Her gaze fell back onto the puzzling information board. ‘OK guys, go home, get some rest. God knows we could use some,’ McCall said, standing up and stretching.

‘See you all tomorrow,’ Tooms announced as he headed for the elevator. Marinelli said his goodnights and left, flinging his jacket over his shoulder and swaggering out as if he was some kind of superstar.

She finished her paperwork, swigged back the remains of her coffee and prepared to leave. Then, stepping into the elevator, she could think about going home and sinking into a nice hot bath while sipping a large glass of the red wine she’d bought the other day.