Dead Guilty (29 page)

‘‘We
did it, Boss. It’s in there.’’ He did a little dance
and spun around.
‘‘You’re going to have to be a little more specific.
We’ve got so many things working.’’
‘‘The
hair.
The
hair.
They
matched
the
hair,’’
he
sang.
‘‘The shed hair protocol worked?’’
‘‘GBI
came
through.
They’re
all
very
excited.
It
matched with the blood in your apartment perfectly—
I’m talking nuclear DNA. This is exciting.’’
‘‘Jin,
you’ve
earned
your
pay.
Would
you
like
to
take a copy of the report to Garnett?’’
Jin grinned. ‘‘Sure. I’d love showing him the kind
of
magic
we
can
perform,
and
wipe
some
of
those
smirks off those guys downtown. Of course, most of
them won’t even realize what a feat it was to get read
able nuclear DNA from shed hair.’’
‘‘Do you get those smirks too? I thought it was just
me,’’ said Diane.
‘‘No. We all get them. It’s especially bad for Neva,
since she used to be down there. They see us as geeks,
I
guess.
However,
there’s
more.
The
DNA
was
the
cake, but I have some more evidence that lights the
candles.’’
‘‘I see you’re on a roll. What’s the other evidence?’’
‘‘Cheap orange carpet fibers.’’
‘‘In Kacie’s apartment?’’
‘‘No. Yours.
I went over
before I came
here and
did a sweep of your apartment.’’ He stopped. ‘‘I hope
you don’t mind.’’
‘‘No,
of
course
not.
I
hope
you
vacuumed
the
whole place.’’
‘‘By
the
way,
you
have
some
strange
neighbors
across the hall.’’
‘‘Tell me about it. You don’t know how strange.’’
‘‘They asked me if I was moving in, did I have a
cat. I told them no, that I was from the crime lab, and
they asked me if I knew anything about the best fu
neral homes. What’s that about?’’
‘‘It’s
their
hobby.
They
love
funerals.
They
go
to
funerals for people they don’t even know.’’
Jin stood gawking at her. Apparently left speechless.
‘‘The
landlady
told
me
they
had
seven
children,’’
said Diane. ‘‘All of whom died. They showed her pho
tographs of their funerals.’’
‘‘Now, that’s downright scary. You live across the
hall from those people?’’
‘‘Last year, when she thought I was harboring a cat
her husband was allergic to, she lifted the landlady’s
keys and snuck into my apartment. I came home and
found someone hiding behind the curtain and almost
brained her with a cast iron skillet.’’
Jin was laughing now. ‘‘You’re yanking my chain.’’
‘‘No. It’s true.’’
He put Diane’s key on her desk. ‘‘The orange carpet
fiber was on your couch, and on the bloody towel.’’
Jin frowned suddenly and pulled up a chair and sat
down,
switching
gears
from
his
usual
hyperactive
mode.
‘‘I’ve
been
looking
at
the
evidence
from
Kacie
Beck’s scene. The rape kit was negative. He used a
condom. I didn’t find anything on the body that be
longed
to
the
perp.
Her
house
was
clean
too.
No
prints, no fibers that we can identify—we got the same
cotton fibers, but that’s all. The guy skinned her fin
gers
pretty
bad
getting
the
ring
off.
I’m
betting
he
got
some
blood
on
him—clothes,
gloves,
something.
Doesn’t help us now, but it might later. You know,
Boss?’’
‘‘What?’’
‘‘I’ve been thinking about a DNA lab.’’
‘‘You have. Been thinking about the money to put
one in?’’
‘‘No.
Haven’t
been
thinking
about
that.
The
Girl
Scouts
raise
a
lot
of
money
selling
those
cookies.
Maybe
we
could
get
some
crime
cookies—some
shaped like a gun, a knife, a bone, maybe. The sand
wich cookies could have red filling. What do you think
about that?’’
‘‘I’m
starting
to
think
you
don’t
have
enough
to
do.’’
‘‘How
about tee-shirts?
We
could sell
tee-shirts—
People are just dying to see us
.’’
‘‘Good-bye, Jin.’’
Diane watched him go out the door. She looked at
her blank wall and decided she needed to do some
thing to decorate this office—it seemed like she was
spending a lot more time in it.
The reports her team generated were stacked up on
her desk. She’d been through them several times hop
ing for a revelation. There was none, but it was the
slowly trickling evidence that was taking the day. They
were getting close—more than close. They could put
whoever it was in the hospital with the hanging victims
on
two
separate
bits
of
evidence—the
orange
fibers
and the DNA. That was a home run.
Her thoughts went to Raymond Waller. He seemed
such an unlikely person to be involved in crime. But
who
knows?
She’d
really
only met
him
a
couple
of
times. Lynn Webber knew him, though. Worked with
him every day. She’d trusted him. Diane shoved it out
of her mind and stood up. All this was really in Garnett and Braden’s purview.
She
started
back
to
her
other
office
but
made
a
detour to the rock lab and looked at Raymond’s dia
monds in the safe. Even uncut they shone against the
black velvet.
The
diamonds
kept
intruding
into
her
thoughts.
That
must
have
been
what
Steven
Mayberry
meant
when he said his ship had come in—and what Chris
Edwards was so happy about. They must have gotten
their
hands
on several
valuable
diamonds—not
only
the one in Kacie’s ring. Bet they had more. Raymond
had to be a part of it somehow. However unlikely a
criminal
ring
the
three
of
them
seemed
to
be,
they
must have stumbled into something.
But how in the world did a serial killer fit into all
of
this?
Unless
he
wasn’t
a
serial
killer.
The
other
thing Chris, Steven and Raymond had in common was
the hanging victims. Chris Edwards and Steven Mayberry found them. Raymond Waller helped with their
autopsies.
That
connection
was
accidental.
It
came
after the Cobber’s Wood victims were dead—or did
it, really? Maybe Edwards and Mayberry simply led
the
sheriff
to
the
people
they
had
killed—but
then,
how did the man in the hospital play into it? He was
there too.
It hit Diane suddenly. Maybe he was supposed to
be in the fourth noose, the forgotten victim—but what
were the E-mail, phone calls, flowers and the attack
in her apartment about? If he was a victim, why didn’t
he
just
walk
into
a
police
station
instead
of
calling
her?
No matter what scenario she came up with, there
was always some part of it that didn’t make sense. She
gave up and went back to her museum office.
She’d been going over budget figures for an hour
when Garnett called and asked her to meet him and
Braden at the hospital.
‘‘He might tell you something he hasn’t told us,’’ he
said. ‘‘He was anxious to talk to you before.’’

John
Doe’s court-appointed attorney stood in front
of
the
door
leading
to
critical
care,
barring
Diane,
Sheriff Braden and Chief Garnett from entering.

‘‘Your
client,’’
said
Sheriff
Braden,
‘‘killed
three
young people barely out of their teens in my county.
One of us is going to talk to him.’’

The
attorney, Tim Preston, looking hardly out of his
teens himself, stood with his arms folded, not moving.
‘‘You don’t know my client did any such thing.’’
‘‘We
have
your
client,’’
said
Garnett.
‘‘We’ve
matched his DNA with DNA left with the Cobber’s
Wood hanging victims.’’
‘‘Did you have a court order to take his DNA?’’
‘‘Didn’t
need
one.
He
left
his
blood
all
over
Dr.
Fallon’s apartment,’’ said Sheriff Braden.
‘‘What’s his name?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘I don’t know.’’
‘‘What
do
you
mean,
you
don’t
know?’’
asked
Braden.
Preston dropped his arms to his side. ‘‘I mean he’s
not talking to me either. My client is still in critical
condition. If your policemen hadn’t been so quick to
shoot a man for holding a cell phone...’’
‘‘He broke into Dr. Fallon’s apartment and attacked
her. She barely escaped with her life. My men went
in to get him and he drew something from a holster
on his side that looked like a gun—after he was or
dered to freeze. We aren’t going to have any of this
he-was-just-a-poor-innocent-victim
business
around
here,’’ said Garnett. ‘‘Now, we want to know who he is.’’
‘‘He’s not talking—not to you and not to me. That’s
the way it
is. The doctors are giving
his chances of
recovery about fifty-fifty right now. If you want him
to live to stand trial, leave him alone.’’
‘‘We would like to know who the victims are so we
can notify their families,’’ said Diane.
‘‘No. He’s not talking. What part of that aren’t you
people getting?’’
‘‘Well, this is a hell of a note,’’ said Sheriff Braden,
as he, Diane and Garnett walked back to their cars.
‘‘We have him dead to rights, and can’t even get the
son of a bitch’s name.’’
‘‘We’ll get it sooner or later,’’ said Diane. She got
in her car and drove back to the museum. As she was
parking, her cell phone rang. It was Neva. ‘‘I got a hit
on the plastic surgeons’ list.’’

Neva
was sitting at the conference table in the crime
lab when Diane arrived. She had several photographs
in front of her, along with her drawings of the victims.
David and Jin joined Diane at the table.

‘‘What
have you got?’’ said Diane.
‘‘First, let me tell you, I bombed out on the tattoo
lists. I didn’t really handle it the right way. I cleaned
up the photos of the tattoos so they didn’t look like
they were on a dead body, and I phrased my questions
as if they were missing persons. Not a good idea with
this
group.
They
took
the
attitude
that
they
had
a
right to be missing. I sort of got a lot of flames on
that list.
‘‘Thank
goodness,
the
doctors
were
more
forth
coming.’’ Neva turned the photographs around. ‘‘I
said from the start that I was trying to identify two
sets of bones. I got a bite last night. A plastic sur
geon in Buffalo, New York, E-mailed me to give him
a call.’’
‘‘He recognized the drawings?’’ asked Diane.
Neva nodded. ‘‘He said they looked like patients of
his. I also included photographs of the nasal bone and
spine of Blue Doe. I hope that was all right. I thought
he might recognize his work, even . . . even though
the nose wasn’t there.’’
‘‘Too bad he wasn’t one of those surgeons who ini
tials the bones of his patients,’’ said Jin.
‘‘Did he? Recognize his work?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘He said he did a lot of rhinoplasty like the ones
that showed up in the bones, and he said the drawings
did
resemble
a
particular
patient
of
his.
When
he
found out I was trying to identify bodies, he sent these
photographs to my E-mail.’’
The four photographs were before and after shots
of a young woman in side and front views. The photos
looked startlingly like Neva’s drawings.
‘‘The
interesting
thing
is,’’
said
Neva,
‘‘that
he
was
scheduled to do her cousin. Here’s his before
shots.’’
Neva
pushed
two
more
photos
across
the
table.
Again, they looked to Diane like a match to Neva’s
drawings.
‘‘You say he was scheduled for surgery?’’
Neva nodded. ‘‘He didn’t show up for pre-op. The
doctor’s office called his home and didn’t get an an
swer. They called the cousin’s home and the house
keeper said the family was gone on a trip. Isn’t that
interesting?’’
‘‘Yes, it is. Frankly, I’m amazed this worked. Good
job, Neva. What are their names?’’
‘‘Ashlyn
and
Justin
Hooten. Both
live
in
Buffalo,
New
York.
I
have
their
addresses
and
phone
numbers.’’
‘‘Well done,’’ Diane said again. ‘‘I’m going to call
the sheriff.’’
Diane couldn’t reach the sheriff or Garnett immedi
ately. She left voice mail on their phones. She won
dered if they went back to the hospital after she left
them.
It was past lunchtime and she was hungry. She left
the
crime lab
and
went down
to
the restaurant,
or
dered herself a club sandwich and took it to her mu
seum office.
Andie was eating at her desk with one of the do
cents, a young woman about Andie’s age.
‘‘Everything going well here?’’ Diane asked.
‘‘All quiet. No strange E-mail, wandering snakes or
anything else out of the ordinary.’’
‘‘Good. I’m going to be eating in my office. I’d like
some
quiet
time,
so
unless
the
museum
catches
fire . . .’’
‘‘Gotcha.’’
Diane
went
into
the
meeting
room
adjoining
her
office.
She
got
a
bottle
of
cold
water
from
a
small
refrigerator she had there and sat down at her small
conference table with her sandwich.
She felt like the note containing the information about
the Hooten cousins was burning a hole in her pocket.
She tried to ignore it. She was about half finished with
the sandwich when she decided to make the call herself,
without
waiting
to
talk
with
Braden
or
Garnett.
The
identity
of
the
victims was
the
key
to
everything.
She
walked into her office and picked up the phone.
She called Justin Hooten’s number first and let it
ring twenty-five rings. No answer. She dialed Ashlyn
Hooten’s
number.
Someone
picked
up
on
the
third
ring
and
announced
that
she
had
reached
the
Hooten residence.
‘‘I’m Diane Fallon from the Rosewood Police De
partment in Georgia.’’
She decided that saying she was head of the crime
lab might be too frightening. As much as the photo
graphs and the drawings seemed to match, they may
not be the right people.
‘‘I’m
looking
for
a
possible
witness.
Is
Ashlyn
Hooten in?’’
‘‘No. She on vacation with her cousin family.’’
‘‘Are her parents there?’’
Diane
heard
another
voice
in
the
background.
‘‘Who is it, Nancy?’’
‘‘She say she the police. From Georgia.’’
‘‘I’ll take it. Hello. I’m Ashlyn’s father, an attorney
here in Buffalo. What is it you want?’’
‘‘When was the last time you saw Ashlyn?’’
‘‘What’s this about? Look, I want you to stop ha
rassing my daughter. You are not to call here again.’’
He hung up.
‘‘Well,’’ Diane said aloud. ‘‘That went nowhere.’’
She tried both the sheriff and Garnett again. They
still weren’t answering their cells. She started back to
the conference room to finish her sandwich when the
door flew open and Lynn Webber stormed in. Andie
flew in behind her.
‘‘Dr. Fallon . . .’’ Andie was obviously helpless to
slow down Lynn.
‘‘It’s all right, Andie.’’ Andie backed out and closed
the door.
‘‘Just
what
are
you
and
Garnett
trying
to
do
to
Raymond?’’
Diane sat down and motioned to the chair. ‘‘I don’t
know. What are we trying to do?’’
‘‘Don’t
act
smart.
I
thought
we
were
friends.
I
thought you liked Raymond.’’
‘‘I thought so too, and I do like Raymond. If you
tell me what you are talking about, maybe I can re
spond more coherently.’’
Lynn Webber dropped herself into the chair in front
of Diane’s desk.
‘‘Garnett came to see me, insinuating that Ray
mond was a thief, asking me all kinds of questions
about him knowing Chris Edwards and some other
people I never heard of. He suggested that I might
have had something to do with stolen diamonds. I
don’t
even
like
diamonds.
He
said
you
and
he
cooked this up.’’
Diane
was
having
a
hard
time
making
sense
of
Lynn’s diatribe in terms of what Garnett might have
actually said.
‘‘Did he really use the work
cook
?’’
‘‘What? Are you taking this seriously?’’
‘‘I am. But since we ‘cooked’ nothing up, I’m having
a hard time following. What exactly did he say that
brought you here?’’
‘‘I can’t remember his exact words. He said some
diamonds were found among Raymond’s possessions
and he wanted to know where he got them and did I
have any ideas. It was the way he asked if
I
had any
ideas. I mean, would Garnett know a real diamond if
he stepped on one?’’
Diane
was
trying
to
measure
what
exactly
to
tell
her in terms of what Garnett might have revealed to
her. She didn’t want to give anything away, but if he
had mentioned the diamonds to Lynn, then he didn’t
mind her knowing about them.
‘‘Diamonds
were
found
among
Raymond’s
things,
and they are real. One of the geologists here at the
museum verified that.’’
‘‘Oh. Garnett said they’re valuable.’’
‘‘Yes, they are. Would you like to see them?’’
‘‘Well,
yes,
that
would
be
interesting.
If
I’m
sus
pected of stealing them, I’d like to see what it is I was
supposed to have stolen.’’
‘‘Did he really accuse you?’’
‘‘He kept asking if maybe Raymond found them in
Chris Edwards’ clothes.’’
‘‘Chris Edwards wasn’t wearing any clothes,’’ said
Diane.
‘‘Don’t
think
I
didn’t
tell
him
that.
He
suggested
that they may have been hidden in his shorts. Now, I
ask you. I would have noticed if Raymond found any
thing in Chris Edwards’ tighty whiteys. Then he asked
me about the clothes on the hanging bodies. Well, I
told him you were there for the first two, and there
was nothing in Red’s clothing.’’
Diane took Lynn to the second floor, and for the
second
time
today
she
took
the
diamonds
from
the
safe.
She
set
them
down
on
a
table
in
the
lab
and
opened the box and eyed Lynn closely.
‘‘They don’t look like diamonds.’’
‘‘They’re uncut,’’ said Diane.
‘‘They look large.’’
‘‘They are.’’
‘‘And these were in Raymond’s things?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘Oh, Raymond, what were you into?’’ she whispered.
Diane put
the diamonds back
in the safe
and es
corted Lynn to the lobby. By the time they got there,
Lynn’s anger had abated and she was all sugar again.
Diane had about decided that the next flare-up, she
wasn’t going to coddle her anymore. As she opened
the door for Lynn, Diane’s cell rang.
Finally,
she thought, as she looked at the display.
Garnett had called back.
‘‘John Doe is dead,’’ he said, before she could tell
him about the Hooten cousins. ‘‘It looks like someone
killed him.’’