searches were done.
If the person was a regular Joe or Jane and just didn't come home- as was probably the case with the young woman found on the riverbank-the report was taken, given to the detective division and the case was looked at again in five days, then again in seven days.
And sometimes you got lucky. Before Jessica could pour herself a cup of coffee, there was a hit.
'Kevin.'
Byrne hadn't even gotten his coat off yet. Jessica held the digital camera's LCD screen next to the computer screen. On the computer screen was a missing person report with a photograph of a pretty blond woman. The picture was a little fuzzy, a driver's license or state ID photo. On Jessica's camera was a close-up of the victim's face. 'Is that her?'
Byrne looked closely, from the computer screen to the camera, back. 'Yeah,' he said. He pointed to the small beauty mark above the right side of the young woman's upper lip. 'That's her.'
Jessica scanned the report. The woman's name was Kristina Jakos.
8
Natalya Jakos was a tall, athletic woman in her early thirties. She had dove gray eyes, smooth skin, and long, elegant fingers. Her dark hair was tipped with silver, cut into a pageboy style. She wore pale tangerine sweats and new Nikes. She had just returned from a run.
Natalya lived in an older, well-kept brick twin row house on Bustle- ton Avenue in the Northeast.
Kristina and Natalya were sisters, born eight years apart in Odessa, the coastal city in the Ukraine.
Natalya had filed the missing person report. THEY MET IN the living room. On the mantel over the bricked-in fireplace was a number of small, framed pictures, mostly slightly out of focus, black-and-white snapshots of a family, posed in snow, on a sad- looking beach, around a dining table. One was of a pretty blond girl in a black- and-white checked sunsuit and white sandals. The girl was clearly Kristina Jakos.
Byrne showed Natalya a close-up photograph of the victim's face. The ligature was not visible. Natalya calmly identified her as her sister.
'Again, we are terribly sorry for your loss,' Byrne said.
'She was killed.'
'Yes,' Byrne said.
Natalya nodded, as if she had been expecting the news. The lack of passion in her reaction was not lost on either detective. They had given her a bare minimum of information on the phone. They had not told her about the mutilation.
'When was the last time you saw your sister?' Byrne asked.
Natalya thought for a few moments. 'It was four days ago.'
'Where did you see her?'
'Right where you are standing. We argued. As we often did.'
'May I ask what about?' Byrne asked.
Natalya shrugged. 'Money. I had lent her five hundred dollars as part of what she needed for security deposits with the utility companies for her new apartment. I think she may have spent it on clothes. She always bought clothes. I got mad. We argued.'
'She was moving out?'
Natalya nodded. 'We were not getting along. She moved out weeks ago.' She reached for a tissue from the box on the end table. She was not as tough as she wanted them to believe she was. No tears, but it was clear that the dam was about to burst.
Jessica began to amend her timeline. 'You saw her four days ago?'
'Yes.'
'When?'
'It was late. She was here to pick up a few things, then she said she was going to do laundry.'
'How late?'
'Ten or ten thirty. Perhaps later.'
'Where did she do laundry?'
'I don't know. Near her new apartment.'
'Have you been to her new place?' Byrne asked.
'No,' Natalya said. 'She never asked me.'
'Did Kristina have a car?'
'No. Her friend would drive her usually. Or she would take SEPTA.'
'What is her friend's name?'
'Sonja.'
'Do you know Sonja's last name?'
Natalya shook her head.
'And you didn't see Kristina again that night?'
'No. I went to sleep. It was late.'
'Can you remember anything else about that day? Where else she might have been? Who she saw?'
'I'm sorry. She did not share these things with me.'
'Did she call you the next day? Maybe leave a message on the answering machine or voice mail?'
'No,' Natalya said, 'but we were supposed to meet the next afternoon. When she did not come, I called the police. The police said there was not much they could do, but they would put it in the system. My sister and I may not have been getting along, but she was always punctual. And she was not the type to just…'
The tears came. Jessica and Byrne gave the woman a moment. When she began to compose herself they continued.
'Where did Kristina work?' Byrne asked.
'I'm not sure exactly where. It was a new job. A receptionist job.'
The way Natalya said the word receptionist was curious, Jessica thought. That was not lost on Byrne, either.
'Did Kristina have a boyfriend? Someone she was seeing?'
Natalya shook her head. 'No one steady that I know of. But there were always men around her. Even when we were small. In school, at church. Always.'
'Is there an ex-boyfriend? Someone who might be carrying a torch?'
'There is one, but he no longer lives here.'
'Where does he live?'
'He went back to the Ukraine.'
'Did Kristina have any outside interests? Hobbies?'
'She had it in her mind to be a dancer. It was her dream. Kristina had many dreams.'
A dancer, Jessica thought. She flashed on the woman and her amputated feet. She moved on. 'What about your parents?'
'They are long in their graves.'
'Any other brothers or sisters?'
'One brother. Kostya.'
'Where is he?'
Natalya grimaced, waved a hand, as if swatting away a bad memory. 'He is tvaryna.'
Jessica waited for a translation. Nothing. 'Ma'am?'
'An animal. Kostya is a wild animal. He is where he belongs. In prison.'
Byrne and Jessica exchanged a glance. This news opened a whole new set of possibilities. Maybe someone wanted to get to Kostya Jakos through his sister.
'May I ask where he is incarcerated?' Jessica asked.
'Graterford.'
