II: Missing Crime
It was a cool, damp morning and the sun was finally breaking through the clouds left over from last night’s rain. Police littered the alley of the abandoned warehouse, all combing through whatever evidence was left at what should have been a murder scene. The only problem was that there was no body to be accounted for: just a sopping wet single shoe and broken glass from the second-story window. Det. Anderson stood over the wet, glassy remains, deep in thought, as he occasionally looked back up at the window, only to then look back down and take a sip of his hot coffee. This went on for a few minutes before one of the other officers interrupted him.
“Sir, we have uni’s canvassing the all the neighborhood but it’s going to be tough finding anyone who was up and around at that time who could have seen the van, especially since most of these buildings are condemned and abandoned,” Officer Gauer said as he put his small notebook away in his jacket pocket. “We were lucky that homeless guy across the street saw both the vic fall from the window, the perp and the van.”
“I know. What about all the damn ravers? Were there any left when we had uniforms on site?”
“Unfortunately, not that many. Most that were still around and saw the cops pulling up took off. The few that we were able to apprehend were too drunk or blitzed out of their minds to get anything of use. They did find another vic in the building, barely breathing, bite marks on her neck and substantial blood loss from what the paramedics told me. They rushed her off to the hospital. ”
“Remind me Gauer, who phoned this in again?” Anderson asked, his attention finally coming back from its alley and window loop.
“We have a rave bird who spotted our guy last night. That kid Johnny-Q, or cakes or whatever the hell his name was, Rogers busted last month for ecstacy last month.”
“I remember the captain cutting him loose to sing for us,” Anderson said, pausing to drink from his coffee. “So much good that did, we get a phone call about One Eye being here but too little too late. Perp’s in the wind. One vic barely breathing in the hospital. We know next to nothing about the missing vic other than what the homeless guy saw from across the street in a dark alley. Not to mention we don’t even have much on the van that took the body or the driver. Hell of a morning so far, Gauer.”
“Can’t disagree with that sir, if this was One Eye’s handy work, that makes four in twelve weeks. The van thing seems weird though. That hadn’t happened with any of the other ones. I wonder what’s the connection there,” Gauer said as he looked the scene over. CSIs going over every inch of the alley with lamps, snapping pictures and bagging up evidence for analysis.
“I’m heading to the precinct to get chewed out by the captain. Call me the moment you or anyone else finds out anything useful. Phone the hospital, tell them to call me directly when that girl wakes up,” Anderson said as he made his way to his Crown Victoria. He had caught his fair share from the other cops in his precinct when he chose to continue driving his Crown Vic instead of one of the newer police vehicles that everyone else had. He had a lot of memories on the job with this car, though. It helped keep him grounded and centered when he worked. He preferred to show up at a crime scene at 5am over riding a desk any given day of the week.