Jump The Line (Toein' The Line Book 1) (31 page)

Megalo Don. 
I’
m looking at his teeth.  Fuck me running.

* * *

For several seconds, we both stare at the image of Megalo Do
n’
s dentition. 

“
You want to see something tha
t’
ll give you a hard-on, Detective
?
”

Spotting weirdoes is my job.  At the moment, I feel like an abject failure, worse than I did when I flunked my first semester of law school on purpose to piss off my dad, Judge Hawks.  I gaze into Doctor Brick Verbot
e’
s eyes. 
I’
m no profiler, but this dud
e’
s weird. 
Am I three inches from my kille
r’
s face?
 

“
Show me
,”
I say.
 “I’
ve not had a good hard-on in a while. 
I’
m due
.
”

Bite Doc strokes the mouse, and then an image of Megal
o’
s bite sails over the top of the merged image of Meer
a’
s and Angie Mille
r’
s bite wounds.  All points, the ridges, valleys, and the fissures between the teeth match perfectly.  All the points of light along the ridges light up.

“
Holy mother of Go
d
—
”
I say, staring open-mouthed.  

I pride myself on keeping a calm exterior, but this time, I do
n’
t bother.  If
I’
m seeing what I think I am, then Bite Doc has just linked Megalo Don to both wome
n’
s murders.  This is case linkage, almost as good as motive.  NP
D’
s now got two related case
s—
and a bona fide serial killer on our hands.

“
So the same bastar
d’
s inflicted wounds on both women?  Is that what this is telling me
?
”
 
I glance at the computer screen.
 “
Show me his ugly bite again, Doc
.
”

Megalo Do
n’
s mouth appears onscreen with a nudge of the mouse from Bite Doc.

“
Hellfire
.
”
 
I let out a long low whistle.
 “
Whoever this bastard is, h
e’
s got one helluva mouthful of teeth.  Looks like a damned shar
k’
s mouth
.
”

“
Yes, he has a most impressive bite
,”
Bite Doc says, deeply admiring.  He splits the screen again.  Two more side-by-side images appear.  On
e’
s Bite Doc
s
’ and one is Megalo Do
n’
s.
 “
Note this gap between his incisors, Detective.  If yo
u’
ll please loo
k
”
—
he points to his own gaping ma
w
—
“
there is no such gap between my incisors
.
” 

Getting a whiff of garlic, I examine Bite Do
c’
s incisors, which he clinks with the scalpel.
 “
Uh-huh
,”
I say, feeling like the fool I am.  Bite Do
c’
s had me figured all along: h
e’
s trying to use his technology to rule himself out as a suspect.  The images of his dentition and Megalo Do
n’
s do
n’
t match.  His teeth are perfect as a mul
e’
s, but they have no gaps or chips, whereas Megal
o’
s display a gap between two upper incisors and a chip on one upper eye-tooth.   

“
I ca
n’
t believe it
,”
I say, shaking my head.
 “I’
m really looking at Megal
o’
s bite onscreen
.
”

But will these HVO images help me nail Megalo Don?

I work to give the impression I have yet to attain the hard-on Bite Doc promised.  Like the dude in the old detective movie,
Colombo
, I scratch my head and look puzzled.
 “
Enlighten me
,”
I prod
,“
as to the evidentiary value of this, will you, Doc?  How exactly do I use this to persuade a jury that the same per
p’
s done both vics?

“
I mean, it sounds good
,”
I continue hammering away
,“
but how do I know your technology works
?
”

After listening to Bite Do
c’
s mumbo-jumbo this morning about stripping bare the per
p’
s ego, once w
e’
ve gotten a look at his teeth, I called Wes and asked him to get me the run-down on bite wound evidence, anything with the potential to deep six a prosecuto
r’
s case.  Wes told me the
y’
ve used forensic odontologist
s
’ testimony to imprison more than a few innocent persons.  In those cases, the testimony was flat wrong.

“
I hear the idea that every perso
n’
s teeth are unique is junk science
,”
I say, again challenging Bite Doc.
 “
Your theory has
n’
t been fully tested
.
” 

Bite Do
c’
s flush suffuses the roots of his yellowish-gray hair.  H
e’
s cornered and knows it.  H
e’
s pissed.

I do
n’
t care.  Megalo Do
n’
s my homicide case. 
I’
m the NPD dick Bite Doc must deal with.  Like it or not,
I’
m calling the do
c’
s science into question.  I wait, my gaze pinned to his face. 

He tosses the scalpel.  It thunks onto the desktop.  Finally, Bite Do
c’
s scowl relaxes, turns shifty.
 “
I understand, Detective Hawks
,”
he says.
 “
You are out to apprehend your killer, so you are serious about your evidenc
e’
s integrity, bu
t
—”

“I’
m serious as a fucking heart attack about my evidenc
e’
s integrity
,”
I say, cutting off Bite Do
c’
s impending lecture.
 “
If ther
e’
s any doubt whatsoever about the efficacy of HVO technolog
y’
s use in testimony,
I’
m screwed
.
”
 
Arms crossed, I keep waiting. 
I’
m in charge tonight, not the doc.  If egos are being stripped bare, i
t’
s sure as hell not going to be mine. 

Bite Doc speaks after several tense seconds.
 “
I admit forensic odontology still has a long way to go
.
”
 
He turns his attention back to the computer screen.
 “
But what you see here, Detective Hawks, is a start, so
I’
ll share what I can with you if yo
u’
re still interested
.
”

Meaning h
e’
ll share what
I’
m capable of understanding. 

Not quite done sweating this oily bastard, I ignore the insult.
 “
Wha
t’
s the drawbacks of using your evidence
?”
I say.
 “
And do
n’
t tell me ther
e’
s not any: I know better
.
” 

“I’
ve scanned photos of the impressions using a flatbed optical scanner, so the measurements
I’
ve taken of the ridges of his teeth disregard 3-D features
.
”  

“
Doc
,”
I say, grateful for We
s
’ rundown but aware
I’
m on thin ice because I still do
n’
t know what the hell Bite Do
c’
s talking about
,“
could you bypass the equipment lecture and tell me the problem?  Put yourself in my shoes
.
”

“
The optical scanner is
n’
t laser, so
I’
ve not recorded any 3-D information about your per
p’
s dentition from the photos of Meer
a’
s and Angie Mille
r’
s impressions
.
”

I’
m screwed, like I thought. 
I’
ve just made case linkage, or Bite Doc did, by placing Megalo Do
n’
s bite on both vic
s
’ shoulders.  I felt so damn sure about it, but now I do
n’
t know.  What if the technolog
y’
s wrong? 

And the cloc
k’
s ticking.  I glance at my watch.  Damn.  I still have to get to Newport and make sure DeeDee does
n’
t screw up my crime scene.  On the phone, Captain Meyers said the latest vic looks like another of Megalo Do
n’
s.  Counting Meera and Angie Miller, and now the latest, tha
t’
s three vics.

Megalo has got to be stopped. 
I’
ve got to do it.

It takes me several seconds to refocus. 
I’
ve never felt so alive.  This case is a career maker, mine, not DeeDe
e’
s.  Smelling blood, I close in for the kill.

“
Tell me, Doc, if yo
u’
ve not recorded any 3-D information from Meer
a’
s and Angie Mille
r’
s impressions, wha
t—
exactl
y—
have you recorded
?
”

“
The flatbed optical scanner records light reflected from dental impressions
,”
Bite Doc says, ignoring my warning not to focus on the equipment.
 “
Once again, we are looking at the highlighted biting surface of your per
p’
s teeth.  This is not 3-D, as I stated, but i
t’
s good as it gets.  The technology limits us
.
”

I nod, agreeing.
 “
No argument from me
.
” 

Too late, I notice Bite Do
c’
s expression slip into that dreamy far-away look he often gets, right before he either starts stuttering, or stops talking altogether.  But this time, he surprises me.
 “
If you are interested
,”
he says
,“
I have found a way to make the identification method more accurate
.
” 

“
Well, yeah,
I’
m interested
.
” 

I stand and stretch, feeling paralyzed from sitting too long.  Why do conversations with Bite Doc have to go this way every damn time?
 “
What are you suggesting
?
”

Bite Doc walks to the cabinet against the far wall and retrieves several impressions and puts them on a square looking stainless steel plate. 

“
I use contrasting colors of dental stone to make my impressions
,”
he says, striding back to the desk.
 “
I
t’
s a new technique that works with 3-D scanning.  Using my uniquely colored stone work, in conjunction with tri-instrument dental beam identification tomography, I ca
n
—”