Standing over her body, he has no doubts that she was
exsanguinated. He’s seen it too many
times. He’s done it too many times.
There are no marks on her neck, but that’s common. At least her assailant had that much decency.
A few interrogative touches later and the scene replays
itself before him. Images of a tall, unidentified man in a leather jacket. Hunger while
convincing her to open the door, traces of desire to flee the city on the doorknob
from his escape. A hint of regret, but
not enough. Impressions of fear on the
item she used to defend herself. A spent
canister of pepper spray, useless for that purpose. That would have to be destroyed.
When you want the
job done right…
***
The pepper spray and a few similar incriminating items are
all in a heavy duty trash bag now and ready for incineration. All traces of blood wiped away, all signs of
struggle removed. Now came the closest
thing to a hard part.
He pulls out his disposable Nokia, considers it briefly,
and decides not to use it. Whether he
distrusts the new technology or simply prefers the old methods is unknown,
possibly unknowable. He puts it back in
the pocket of his jumpsuit and extracts a small white handkerchief from a
selection of colors.
He hefts her body in his arms, light from blood loss, and
props it up in front of his by the picture window. He waves the white handkerchief and ducks
down.
The bullet rips through her head, splattering brains and
what little blood is left. By practice,
by instinct, he lets go of the body a moment before the bullet hits. The bullet passes through his right shoulder
and embeds itself in the wall behind him.
The wound is an unfortunate necessity, but ballistics shouldn’t be able
to tell.
He surveys the scene one last time. Everything looks perfect except for the lack
of blood splatter. The head wound is
ideal, but there should be blood everywhere.
I’m going to have
to hit the hospital.
***
New Year Is Off To
A Deadly Start
Chicago Tribune
January 02, 1993
The New Year was only minutes old when Joyce Foster made
the sad discovery that a person is not safe from random gunfire even in her own
living room.
The 28-year-old was killed as she stood near a window in
a ninth floor apartment in a CHA high-rise building. The bullet, which ripped
into her head, apparently was fired from the street, detectives said.
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