“Good evening, I’m Chera Kimiko. We begin with tonight’s Green Country Crime Report. Talia Kirk is live outside the Tulsa County Sheriff’s Office with more. Talia?”
A cute, bright-eyed young woman stood before the camera and, when prompted by Chera, began her well-scripted synopsis of events. “Chera, detectives are working hard tonight to find the person or persons responsible for a recent deadly attack. With the number of violent crimes in Tulsa rising, Chief of Police Gordon Charles had this to say: ‘Our city is expanding at a high rate, but we are confident in our efforts to keep its citizens safe. If you have any information about this attack, or any other crimes, please call our sheriff’s office anonymous tip line.’ Back to you, Chera.”
“Thank you, Talia. If you have any information that might help investigators, please call 596-COPS. Up next, ten tips to stay safe over the Labor Day holiday weekend.”
The clip froze and went silent as a picture of downtown Tulsa appeared on screen. Eva set down the phone in exchange for a bronze eye shadow palette.
“Moral of the story, don’t visit sketchy parts of town.”
Four
“Gentlemen, my official medical opinion is that I haven’t seen anything this fucked up in dog years.” Medical Examiner Catherine Pierce greeted the detectives as they entered through the swinging double doors and into the morgue. Fluorescent lights buzzed from the outdated white ceiling tiles.
Detective Schilling’s gruff Oklahoma twang coated his words. “What do we got here?” He rubbed a hand through his silvering temples before resting his arms on his thick abdomen.
“Ligature marks on the wrists and ankles. There’s a band across her forehead like something was used to hold her head back. Hemorrhaging around the throat. Multiple stab wounds to the right arm, chest, abdomen, and legs. Most of them shallow, but some of them look deep.” Pierce pointed at each part as she delivered her report. Detective Schilling grimaced as he studied the body. His partner, Detective James Graham forced his eyes to stay focused on the woman’s pale corpse. Flecks of dark brown facial hair shimmered as James rhythmically clenched his jaw and circled the exposed, mutilated body. Pierce leaned closer. “Then there’s this.” She motioned to the left forearm, and Schilling and James both knelt to table height.
“Is that a tree?” James asked.
The black, leafless design looked like a shadow imprinted on white plastic. The trunk sprang from her wrist creases. Its intricate limbs gripped her toned arm and reached for her elbow.
James nodded. “The rest of the body is covered in gashes, except this arm. Whoever did this wants all our attention right here.”
Pierce handed James the victim’s file. “Schilling, it looks like the kid is a keeper.”
Schilling grunted. “So the vic was bound, tattooed, tortured with a knife, and strangled.”
“Not quite,” Pierce said. “She wasn’t alive when she was stabbed, but I can’t say the same for the tattoo. It was done around two hours before death. Also, lividity on her shoulders, thighs, and torso points to her being on her back for some time before he moved her.”
James opened the file and thumbed through it. “It says here the deceased was a chemical engineering student at the University of Tulsa with a full-ride track scholarship.” He studied her colorless face. “Must’ve been smart. And fast too.”
“Unfortunately, the suspect was faster.” She disappeared behind Schilling’s stocky frame and reappeared with a pair of latex gloves. She slipped them onto her slender hands and lifted the victim’s arm. “She has defensive wounds on her hands and a few broken nails. I swabbed all of them, but I’m not too hopeful I’ll get anything back. She was washed clean.” Pierce lowered the arm and placed a gloved finger on the victim’s forehead. Her vibrant red nail polish peeked through the latex, making the victim’s skin appear even duller. “The markings you mentioned on her forehead, wrists, and ankles were made by the same type of device. Probably a belt or strap. You can tell by the extensive bruising that they were either very tight, or she struggled against them. My guess is he used them to keep her still while he tattooed her.”
Schilling maintained his stoic posture and asked, “He, why do you think our suspect’s a man?”
Pierce rolled her eyes. “It takes a strong set of hands to cause neck bruising like that.” She stared down at the young woman. “It never gets any easier to look at, Detective Graham,” she reminded.
James’s gaze lingered on the victim’s face. If he ignored his surroundings, she almost looked like she was sleeping. He blinked rapidly and turned his attention to the computer screen glaring down from above the body. A closeup image of the girl’s left forearm seemed to be seared onto the screen.
He pointed at the image. “What do you think that is?”