SAMPSON AND I walked into the fog-shrouded heart of Garfield Park, which borders the Anacostia River and the Eisenhower Freeway and isn't far from the Sojourner Truth School. The color of truth is gray, I was thinking as we entered the ground smog.
Always gray. We weren't out for an early-morning run -- we were hurrying to the place where Shanelle Green had actually been murdered, her skull crushed by some fiend.
Several uniforms, a captain, and another detective were already at the homicide scene. A dozen or so casual onlookers were on hand -- looky-loos. Search dogs originally brought in from Georgia had led a search party to the murder site. I could see Sixth Street from the thicket of evergreens where the killer had brutally savaged the little girl. I could almost see the Sojourner Truth School.
“Think he carried the body out of here to the school yard?”
Sampson asked. His tone of voice indicated he didn't believe it. Neither did I. So how did the little girl's body get to the school yard?
A bright red balloon floated a couple of feet above the overgrown bushes where the terrible murder had occurred.
“O marks the spot?” Sampson asked. “That balloon the marker?”
“I don't know... I wonder,” I muttered as I pushed aside the thick evergreen branches and made my way into the hideaway.
The smell of pine was heavy, even in the cold air. Reminded me that the Christmas season was here.
I could feel the presence of the killer inside the tree branches, challenging me. I sensed Shanelle's presence as well, as if she were trying to tell me something. I wanted to be alone in here for a moment or two.
It was a small clearing where the murder had actually taken place. Dried blood was on the ground and had even splashed across some of the branches. He lured her in here. How did he do that? She'd be suspicious, or scared, unless she knew him from the neighborhood. It suddenly struck me. The balloon! It was just a guess, but it seemed right to me. The red balloon could have been the lure, the killer bait for the little girl.