L.A. Angeles: Jane Doe
by Lyndsey Werner
She stared out over the water. Sadness emanated from her, it seemed her heart was breaking. She wore a red coat that fell to her knees. Her hood was down, revealing long dark brown hair. She looked to be maybe twelve years old. She took out a legal notebook, and wrote something down. Then she hopped from the rail she was sitting on, and began to walk down the pier, into the city. Two days later the police found the bodies of a prominent businessman, and two unidentified hookers washed up on the shore.
Lieutenant Josh Dean felt someone watching him. He glanced around at the murder scene of a Jane Doe who had been killed by strangulation. Then he saw her, the little girl in the red coat. Then he saw her, the little girl in the red coat. This wasn’t the first time he’d caught her at a crime scene. Josh straightened and began to stride toward her. It was time to find out exactly how this girl was and why she was around so much when bad things happened. She didn’t move as Josh approached. She just stood staring at the scene.
“Is every unidentifiable victim named Jane Doe?” The little girl asked before he could say anything. Josh glanced back at the dead girl.
“Yeah, pretty much.” He answered, caught off guard.
“That’s so sad…” She said, turning her sorrowful gaze back to the woman.
“What are you doing here?” Josh asked her.
“I’m mourning.” She replied. Josh looked up sharply.
“Did you know the victim?” He demanded. The girl shook her head.
“No,” She said. “But if I don’t mourn her, who will?” She hopped up onto the raised edge of the curb next to her and balanced there. “I came back to mourn some more, for the baby.”
“Baby?” Josh repeated blankly.
“Yep.” She stepped along the curb, pacing slightly. “The poor little one who couldn’t even have a name.” Tears pricked her eyes, adding to her already heartbroken demeanor. “It’s so sad. She died trying to keep the young one alive, and that’s what killed the young one.” She sniffed and hid her face with the coat’s red hood.
“Her name’s not Jane Doe.” The girl hopped down to the sidewalk, her shoes making a light click against the concrete. She looked up as the coroner’s van pulled along side the body. Josh followed her gaze, and when he looked back, the little girl was gone.
Josh looked wildly around, but she was nowhere to be seen. He frowned and took out his notebook. He quickly outlined everything he could remember about the girl, and titled it “Little Red Riding Hood”. Then he walked over to the medical examiner to get the preliminary report.
Dr. Denise Harris glanced impatiently at her boyfriend. “What took you?” She asked him crossly.
“Nothing,” Josh said, glancing back where he’d last seen Little Red Riding Hood. He returned his gaze to Denise. “What you got?” She shrugged.
“Basic stuff.” She answered. “Late teens, early twenties. She was strangled with what looks like a chain. Jane Doe by the looks of it.”
“Can we call her something else?” Josh asked distractedly.
“What?” Denise looked at him in confusion.
“Nothing.” He said quickly. She looked at him oddly. “It’s just something someone said.”
The Morgue…
“Well, I may have a motive for you.” Denise began. “Our Jane Doe was pregnant.”
“What?!” Josh demanded in some shock. Denise glanced at him, surprised by his reaction.
“Well, it’s not that uncommon.” She stated.
“No, there was this girl at the crime scene.”
“What girl!?” Denise jealously demanded. Josh looked at her.
“There was a kid at the scene.” He began. “I’ve seen her at a few other crime scene. So this time I decided to go talk to her. She said she didn’t know the victim, she actually said a bunch of strange stuff.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Around the time you came, she mentioned something about ‘the young one’, and how the victim died trying to save it. She claimed that ‘the young one’ died with the victim.”
“Sounds like she knew our victim.” Denise said thoughtfully. “Could help us get an id. What did she look like?”
“She was eleven or twelve, with long brown hair, and this red coat.” Josh replied. Denise slowly put down the file in her hands.
“Josh, I want you to stay away from that girl.” She said abruptly.
“What?” Josh asked. “Why?”
Denise hesitated, reluctant to say. “I know the girl you’re talking about.” She finally said. “Or rather, I know of her.” Denise looked away from Josh, unwilling to see his reaction to what she was about to say. “She’s better known as the Angel of Death.”
“The Angel of Death?” Josh repeated in disbelief.
“She’s pretty well known around here.” Denise told him. “I chalked it up to exaggeration or drunkenness when I first got here, but too many people have seen her, including people I believe and trust. They’ve all seen the same thing; a little girl in red, with long brown hair, and white tights, wearing black Mary Janes.” She caught his look. “A kind of shoe.” She explained.
“Couldn’t she just be someone’s kid?” Josh asked. Denise shook her head.
“No one who works here has a daughter that age, and she’s been appearing for years. If you look a way for a moment, she disappears.”
“But why do you want me to stay away from her?”
“The Angel of Death has been seen at other murder and accident sites.” Denise’s hand closed around Josh’s. “They say that if she looks at you, her eyes turn red, and you’re marked for death. That there is anger in her face.” Denise shivered, she had never given the Angel of Death much thought, but Denise knew that, if she was real, the little girl was unnatural. “It’s not safe to be around her.” Josh looked at Denise, then the body of the girl in front of him.
“We have to find out who this Jane Doe is.” He said. Denise opened her mouth, but Josh continued. “I can’t let this Little Red Riding Hood of Death get in the way of my job.” He paused, “And there’s something else…”
“What?” Denise prompted him.
“I’m not sure. The girl I met, Angel of Death or not, she just seemed so… sad.” Jose shook his head as if clearing cobwebs from it, then grinned down at Denise. “Besides, there must be a logical explanation for that girl. It’s not like she’s actually an Angel of Death.”
Denise spent the rest of the week inquiring about the Angel of Death. Denise now knew that the girl would appear in the morgue and pull out a body. Once in a while a person would walk in on her staring down at the body. She never responded when they talked to her, and when they looked away, even for a second, she would vanish, without a trace.
An intern once spotted her, but instead of disturbing her, he decided to just watch what she was doing. The girl bowed her head over the body. The intern heard her whisper something, then she wrote in a legal notebook. She pushed the body back into the cold chamber, and turned to look at the intern who jumped.
“Thank you for not interrupting me.” She said, moving towards the door. She paused before leaving. “And you may want to visit your grandmother. She’s a bit lonely.” Then she walked out. The intern tried to follow her, but the hall was empty.
“It was that last thing she said that bothered me.” The former intern said, he had become an attendant the year before. “My grandmother died two years before any of this happened.” He glanced at Denise. “I do think she’s an Angel of Death, but I don’t think she’s as dangerous as other people make her out to be.”
“You’ve heard that she has red eyes and will mark you for death, right?” Denise nodded. “Well she looked at me dead on, and I can tell you, her eyes were brown.” He shrugged, “And it’s been three years, and I’m still okay.”
“But, what about the anger?” Denise asked. The man shook his head.
“Her expression, what she was doing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was attending a funeral. She was so sad you’d think the person that the slab was one of her closest friends.”
“But so many of the people who have seen her have said she was angry.” Denise pressed. He sighed.
“How would you feel if you were at a funeral and someone tried to kick you out?” He asked.
So the Angel of Death was some kind of desperate mourner? Denise wondered, wandering back to the morgue. That didn’t make any sense. She was so deep in thought that she didn’t even notice the girl in a red coat standing next to the body of the strangled girl. Denise dropped her files as she realized the girl was there. This was the first time she’d seen the little Red Angel, and she was careful not to take her eyes off her.
“Why are you here?” Denise asked. “I’ve checked, you’ve never visited a body more than once. Sometimes at the crime scene, sometimes here, at the morgue, but never both.” Denise caught her breath, and continued to stare at the young girl. The silence stretched.
“Denise Harris is a good girl.” Little Red said suddenly. She took the corpse’s hand. “She doesn’t forget, she is a good girl.” There was another long silence. Denise fidgeted, wondering if she would call someone.
“Three times.” The little girl seemed to have come to a decision. Denise straightened. “I have visited this little lost girl three times.” She held up three fingers. “Now,” she put down one finger. “At the crime scene,” She only had one finger up now. “And twenty minutes after the monster took her.” She dropped her hand to her side.
“The monster?” Denise asked.
“The monster in the shape of a man.” The girl said, she looked down at the body. “No one cries for Jane Doe, but she didn’t want to die. She was sobbing. She was scared. She wanted to see her family again. She wanted her mom, she wanted her brother to yell at her for being dumb then take her to see Dr. Hendricks, and most of all, she wanted her baby to survive.” Denise saw the girl’s small hand tighten on the dead girl’s hand, then let go. “Isn’t it sad?” Denise nodded.
“How do you know all that?” She asked, the girl shrugged.
“I just do.” She said, sliding the body of the girl back into her cold chamber. The girl’s hand lingered on the door for a moment. Then she turned to go.
“Wait!” Denise called, the girl stopped and looked back. “I have two more questions.” The girl waited. “Why don’t you ever tell the police what you know?”
“They don’t listen.” She said. “or they decide I am responsible…” Denise could hear misery in the girl’s voice. “Besides, all I have are vague memories, a name on the tip of my tongue, nothing to find the people who care.” The girl seemed truly sad.
“What’s your name?” Denise asked. The girl looked at her blankly.
“My name?” She repeated. Denise nodded. The girl thought about it. “I was called Shinigami in Japan.” She offered.
“Is that your name?” Denise questioned her. The girl thought a moment longer.
“I can think of only one name you might accept.”
“What’s that?” Denise pressed her.
“Jane Doe.” The girl answered, and walked briskly out.
“Did you get a lead on Dr. Hendricks?” Denise touched Josh’s arm.
“Yeah,” He said, looking down at her. “The dead girl is Dora Hamilton, she ran away from home last year.” He glanced up at the ceiling of the empty hallway. “Her killer should be easier to find now that we know who she is.” The heard the click of shoes in the otherwise silent corridor, but it wasn’t until Denise caught a glimpse of black Mary Janes that they noticed the twelve-year-old girl in red.
“Jane!” Denise started in surprise. The girl inclined her head, then bowed slightly to them.
“I just wanted to thank you both.” She said.
“Why?” Josh asked. “We haven’t caught the killer yet.”
“The point wasn’t to find the killer.” Jane Doe said straightening. “It was to find Dora.”
“I’m sorry?” Josh’s brow furrowed in confusion. The little girl looked at them.
“She was lost.” The young girl said simply. “You found her, and led her home, to those who care enough to mourn her.” She closed her eyes. “Thank you for that.” The girl turned and began to walk away.
“Why?” The girl stopped. Josh repeated his question. “Why is that important to you?”
“A nameless person dies. No identity, no one to bury them, no one to cry at their grave. I cry for them when I feel them pass. It’s as if I’ve lost a very important friend.” She lifted her head. “The John Doe who was just brought in, he lost his dog when he was eleven,” her voice caught. “His last thought was for his sister, how she could pay her hospital bills without him.”
Josh and Denise glanced at the morgue, when they looked back the girl was gone.
She stared out over the water. Sadness emanated from her, it seemed her heart was breaking. She wore a red coat that fell to her knees. Her hood was down, revealing long dark brown hair. She looked to be maybe twelve years old. She took out a legal notebook, and wrote something down. Then she hopped from the rail she was sitting on, and began to walk down the pier, into the city. Two days later the police found the bodies of a prominent businessman, and two unidentified hookers washed up on the shore.
Lieutenant Josh Dean felt someone watching him. He glanced around at the murder scene of a Jane Doe who had been killed by strangulation. Then he saw her, the little girl in the red coat. Then he saw her, the little girl in the red coat. This wasn’t the first time he’d caught her at a crime scene. Josh straightened and began to stride toward her. It was time to find out exactly how this girl was and why she was around so much when bad things happened. She didn’t move as Josh approached. She just stood staring at the scene.
“Is every unidentifiable victim named Jane Doe?” The little girl asked before he could say anything. Josh glanced back at the dead girl.
“Yeah, pretty much.” He answered, caught off guard.
“That’s so sad…” She said, turning her sorrowful gaze back to the woman.
“What are you doing here?” Josh asked her.
“I’m mourning.” She replied. Josh looked up sharply.
“Did you know the victim?” He demanded. The girl shook her head.
“No,” She said. “But if I don’t mourn her, who will?” She hopped up onto the raised edge of the curb next to her and balanced there. “I came back to mourn some more, for the baby.”
“Baby?” Josh repeated blankly.
“Yep.” She stepped along the curb, pacing slightly. “The poor little one who couldn’t even have a name.” Tears pricked her eyes, adding to her already heartbroken demeanor. “It’s so sad. She died trying to keep the young one alive, and that’s what killed the young one.” She sniffed and hid her face with the coat’s red hood.
“Her name’s not Jane Doe.” The girl hopped down to the sidewalk, her shoes making a light click against the concrete. She looked up as the coroner’s van pulled along side the body. Josh followed her gaze, and when he looked back, the little girl was gone.
Josh looked wildly around, but she was nowhere to be seen. He frowned and took out his notebook. He quickly outlined everything he could remember about the girl, and titled it “Little Red Riding Hood”. Then he walked over to the medical examiner to get the preliminary report.
Dr. Denise Harris glanced impatiently at her boyfriend. “What took you?” She asked him crossly.
“Nothing,” Josh said, glancing back where he’d last seen Little Red Riding Hood. He returned his gaze to Denise. “What you got?” She shrugged.
“Basic stuff.” She answered. “Late teens, early twenties. She was strangled with what looks like a chain. Jane Doe by the looks of it.”
“Can we call her something else?” Josh asked distractedly.
“What?” Denise looked at him in confusion.
“Nothing.” He said quickly. She looked at him oddly. “It’s just something someone said.”
The Morgue…
“Well, I may have a motive for you.” Denise began. “Our Jane Doe was pregnant.”
“What?!” Josh demanded in some shock. Denise glanced at him, surprised by his reaction.
“Well, it’s not that uncommon.” She stated.
“No, there was this girl at the crime scene.”
“What girl!?” Denise jealously demanded. Josh looked at her.
“There was a kid at the scene.” He began. “I’ve seen her at a few other crime scene. So this time I decided to go talk to her. She said she didn’t know the victim, she actually said a bunch of strange stuff.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Around the time you came, she mentioned something about ‘the young one’, and how the victim died trying to save it. She claimed that ‘the young one’ died with the victim.”
“Sounds like she knew our victim.” Denise said thoughtfully. “Could help us get an id. What did she look like?”
“She was eleven or twelve, with long brown hair, and this red coat.” Josh replied. Denise slowly put down the file in her hands.
“Josh, I want you to stay away from that girl.” She said abruptly.
“What?” Josh asked. “Why?”
Denise hesitated, reluctant to say. “I know the girl you’re talking about.” She finally said. “Or rather, I know of her.” Denise looked away from Josh, unwilling to see his reaction to what she was about to say. “She’s better known as the Angel of Death.”
“The Angel of Death?” Josh repeated in disbelief.
“She’s pretty well known around here.” Denise told him. “I chalked it up to exaggeration or drunkenness when I first got here, but too many people have seen her, including people I believe and trust. They’ve all seen the same thing; a little girl in red, with long brown hair, and white tights, wearing black Mary Janes.” She caught his look. “A kind of shoe.” She explained.
“Couldn’t she just be someone’s kid?” Josh asked. Denise shook her head.
“No one who works here has a daughter that age, and she’s been appearing for years. If you look a way for a moment, she disappears.”
“But why do you want me to stay away from her?”
“The Angel of Death has been seen at other murder and accident sites.” Denise’s hand closed around Josh’s. “They say that if she looks at you, her eyes turn red, and you’re marked for death. That there is anger in her face.” Denise shivered, she had never given the Angel of Death much thought, but Denise knew that, if she was real, the little girl was unnatural. “It’s not safe to be around her.” Josh looked at Denise, then the body of the girl in front of him.
“We have to find out who this Jane Doe is.” He said. Denise opened her mouth, but Josh continued. “I can’t let this Little Red Riding Hood of Death get in the way of my job.” He paused, “And there’s something else…”
“What?” Denise prompted him.
“I’m not sure. The girl I met, Angel of Death or not, she just seemed so… sad.” Jose shook his head as if clearing cobwebs from it, then grinned down at Denise. “Besides, there must be a logical explanation for that girl. It’s not like she’s actually an Angel of Death.”
Denise spent the rest of the week inquiring about the Angel of Death. Denise now knew that the girl would appear in the morgue and pull out a body. Once in a while a person would walk in on her staring down at the body. She never responded when they talked to her, and when they looked away, even for a second, she would vanish, without a trace.
An intern once spotted her, but instead of disturbing her, he decided to just watch what she was doing. The girl bowed her head over the body. The intern heard her whisper something, then she wrote in a legal notebook. She pushed the body back into the cold chamber, and turned to look at the intern who jumped.
“Thank you for not interrupting me.” She said, moving towards the door. She paused before leaving. “And you may want to visit your grandmother. She’s a bit lonely.” Then she walked out. The intern tried to follow her, but the hall was empty.
“It was that last thing she said that bothered me.” The former intern said, he had become an attendant the year before. “My grandmother died two years before any of this happened.” He glanced at Denise. “I do think she’s an Angel of Death, but I don’t think she’s as dangerous as other people make her out to be.”
“You’ve heard that she has red eyes and will mark you for death, right?” Denise nodded. “Well she looked at me dead on, and I can tell you, her eyes were brown.” He shrugged, “And it’s been three years, and I’m still okay.”
“But, what about the anger?” Denise asked. The man shook his head.
“Her expression, what she was doing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was attending a funeral. She was so sad you’d think the person that the slab was one of her closest friends.”
“But so many of the people who have seen her have said she was angry.” Denise pressed. He sighed.
“How would you feel if you were at a funeral and someone tried to kick you out?” He asked.
So the Angel of Death was some kind of desperate mourner? Denise wondered, wandering back to the morgue. That didn’t make any sense. She was so deep in thought that she didn’t even notice the girl in a red coat standing next to the body of the strangled girl. Denise dropped her files as she realized the girl was there. This was the first time she’d seen the little Red Angel, and she was careful not to take her eyes off her.
“Why are you here?” Denise asked. “I’ve checked, you’ve never visited a body more than once. Sometimes at the crime scene, sometimes here, at the morgue, but never both.” Denise caught her breath, and continued to stare at the young girl. The silence stretched.
“Denise Harris is a good girl.” Little Red said suddenly. She took the corpse’s hand. “She doesn’t forget, she is a good girl.” There was another long silence. Denise fidgeted, wondering if she would call someone.
“Three times.” The little girl seemed to have come to a decision. Denise straightened. “I have visited this little lost girl three times.” She held up three fingers. “Now,” she put down one finger. “At the crime scene,” She only had one finger up now. “And twenty minutes after the monster took her.” She dropped her hand to her side.
“The monster?” Denise asked.
“The monster in the shape of a man.” The girl said, she looked down at the body. “No one cries for Jane Doe, but she didn’t want to die. She was sobbing. She was scared. She wanted to see her family again. She wanted her mom, she wanted her brother to yell at her for being dumb then take her to see Dr. Hendricks, and most of all, she wanted her baby to survive.” Denise saw the girl’s small hand tighten on the dead girl’s hand, then let go. “Isn’t it sad?” Denise nodded.
“How do you know all that?” She asked, the girl shrugged.
“I just do.” She said, sliding the body of the girl back into her cold chamber. The girl’s hand lingered on the door for a moment. Then she turned to go.
“Wait!” Denise called, the girl stopped and looked back. “I have two more questions.” The girl waited. “Why don’t you ever tell the police what you know?”
“They don’t listen.” She said. “or they decide I am responsible…” Denise could hear misery in the girl’s voice. “Besides, all I have are vague memories, a name on the tip of my tongue, nothing to find the people who care.” The girl seemed truly sad.
“What’s your name?” Denise asked. The girl looked at her blankly.
“My name?” She repeated. Denise nodded. The girl thought about it. “I was called Shinigami in Japan.” She offered.
“Is that your name?” Denise questioned her. The girl thought a moment longer.
“I can think of only one name you might accept.”
“What’s that?” Denise pressed her.
“Jane Doe.” The girl answered, and walked briskly out.
“Did you get a lead on Dr. Hendricks?” Denise touched Josh’s arm.
“Yeah,” He said, looking down at her. “The dead girl is Dora Hamilton, she ran away from home last year.” He glanced up at the ceiling of the empty hallway. “Her killer should be easier to find now that we know who she is.” The heard the click of shoes in the otherwise silent corridor, but it wasn’t until Denise caught a glimpse of black Mary Janes that they noticed the twelve-year-old girl in red.
“Jane!” Denise started in surprise. The girl inclined her head, then bowed slightly to them.
“I just wanted to thank you both.” She said.
“Why?” Josh asked. “We haven’t caught the killer yet.”
“The point wasn’t to find the killer.” Jane Doe said straightening. “It was to find Dora.”
“I’m sorry?” Josh’s brow furrowed in confusion. The little girl looked at them.
“She was lost.” The young girl said simply. “You found her, and led her home, to those who care enough to mourn her.” She closed her eyes. “Thank you for that.” The girl turned and began to walk away.
“Why?” The girl stopped. Josh repeated his question. “Why is that important to you?”
“A nameless person dies. No identity, no one to bury them, no one to cry at their grave. I cry for them when I feel them pass. It’s as if I’ve lost a very important friend.” She lifted her head. “The John Doe who was just brought in, he lost his dog when he was eleven,” her voice caught. “His last thought was for his sister, how she could pay her hospital bills without him.”
Josh and Denise glanced at the morgue, when they looked back the girl was gone.