“Maybe she was out here having a glass of water, and the killer surprised her,” Kane suggested.
Jonathon shook his head. “No, if she dropped the glass when the killer turned up then she wouldn’t have the cut on her hand. She had to have dropped it earlier, started cleaning it up when something stopped her.”
“I agree.” Allina nodded. “Guess on cause of death, Tracey?”
The ME was notorious for making predictions about the bodies who came into her care, almost always her predictions turned out to be correct. “The head wounds.”
“Can you tell how many there are?” Allina asked.
Peering closely at Nicole's head, Tracey replied, “Looks like three.”
“So there would have been a lot of blood spatter,” Allina stated. “Three blows, he had to have been covered in blood. No witnesses reported seeing a blood-covered man leaving the alley.”
“Vacant building over there,” Jonathon noted. “Perfect place for the killer to enter and leave. He could have kept clean clothes in there so he could change afterward. That way he could just walk away, and no one would even look twice at him.”
“That would imply this was pre-meditated,” Allina said.
“He brought his own weapon.” He nodded at the rock that lay beside Nicole’s head. “This was planned. He came here to kill her. Kane, when you're done with the alley can you check out the empty building?”
“Sure thing.”
“How could he have known she’d be out here?” Tracey asked.
“Maybe this is where she takes her breaks when she’s at work,” he suggested. “Maybe he knew that, then all he had to do was hang back and wait for her.”
“That would mean he was stalking her,” Allina noted. “Learning her routines.”
“But why kill her here?” he pondered. “It would be a whole lot safer to have killed her at night in her own home. But he didn’t. He chose here. Outside a busy café in the middle of the afternoon. Anyone could have interrupted him.”
“Maybe he likes taking risks, it could add to the excitement,” his partner suggested.
“There doesn’t appear to be a sexual element,” he continued. “Clothes look intact. I suppose he could have made her redress afterward, but I’m thinking probably not.”
“I’ll confirm when I do the autopsy, but I concur,” Tracey said.
“So, he catches her by surprise and backs her further up into the alley.” Jonathon gestured to the broken glass where they assumed Nicole had cut herself to the place where she had died. “She wasn't moved, Tracey?”
“Nope.”
“Why didn’t she call for help?” Allina asked.
“Maybe she didn’t feel threatened at first. Didn’t realize he was a threat to her until it was too late,” he suggested. “Would make sense if she knew him. Or he was charming enough to talk her into feeling at ease. Or maybe fright and shock had her kind of paralyzed and she just didn’t scream.” Unfortunately, that happened often. The simple act of screaming could save your life, especially in a populated area such as this. If Nicole had shouted, she might have scared off her attacker or drawn someone’s attention and she might still be alive.
“First blow would almost definitely have incapacitated her.” Jonathon’s gaze wandered to Nicole Carmichael’s crushed skull. “Second probably would have killed her, third one was just to ensure she was dead. He didn’t go overboard though. This wasn't a crime of passion.”
“Not robbery either. Jewelry, cell phone, and purse are all still here,” Allina added.
“And not a sex crime. So, what was it? Crime of opportunity? Was he stalking her? It looks premeditated. He brought a weapon with him then left it behind, he doesn’t appear to be concerned about forensics.” So far, he couldn’t get a read on this killer.
“Jonathon.”
They all turned as someone called his name. A tall, dark-haired man was striding toward them. It was Samuel Zeeke. Sam was Clara’s sister Naomi’s boss. He’d gotten to know the man reasonably well in the twelve months since they’d met, and Sam’s sharp, brisk manner no longer put him off. Although Sam shouldn’t be here, that wasn't topping Jonathon’s list of concerns right now.
“How’s Naomi?” he asked. Sam had called him several hours ago to let him know that Naomi had been shot and rushed to the hospital. At the time, she had still been unconscious, and her doctors had been understandingly concerned about the effects of another head injury so soon after her last.
“Awake. But she doesn’t remember anything.”
“Nothing at all?”