Pretty Broken Dolls by Jennifer Chase
Chapter Thirty-One
Wednesday 1015 hours
Katie was relieved and excited to receive a text from John saying that he had some things to update her on relating to the Darla Winchell investigation. McGaven was still researching names and doggedly cross-checking them. It was something that he did well, so he wasn’t going to be with her at the forensics reveal.
She stood at the forensic exam room door, which was, unusually, closed. She knocked twice softly.
“Come in,” said John.
Katie opened the door and walked into the darkened room. The overhead light was off and there was just a dim light in the corner where John hovered over a large microscope. She wasn’t sure what type it was—usually he used a scanning electron microscope for the evidence comparisons, but this one looked different and more specialized.
“Uh, you seem busy. Should I come back later?” she said, feeling a bit awkward, not knowing what she should be doing. “What do you want me to do? You want me to come back?”
“Hang on a minute. Have patience.”
Katie looked around and noticed that everything had been choreographed a bit differently. The larger computers and screen were in the corner area and the exam tables were in the middle, which made it easier to move around each side.
“I like how you rearranged everything.”
“Makes more sense. We’ve been busy, so the more we can organize and automate, the better.” He was still studying something, making notes on a piece of paper.
Katie tapped her small notebook on the exam table.
“Okay,” said John as he straightened up and closed a binder. He was wearing a white lab coat, which was also unusual, and he stripped it off, revealing his typical black T-shirt. “Are we waiting for McGaven?”
“No, he’s buried in paperwork.”
“Okay. Here’s what we have so far.”
That didn’t sound hopeful to Katie, but she waited to see if John found anything she and McGaven could run with.
“Let’s start with the fairgrounds first. Specifically the Ferris wheel. Okay, the blood was over the top, meaning that it actually contaminated the entire car. If there was anything that could have told us about the killer—hair, fluids, anything—it was covered by the bleed-out of the victim. There was also some type of mechanical oil and what appears to be remnants of old food.”
“Okay.”
“Now, that being said, there were indications that the killer wore gloves, but this particular type of glove wasn’t just the pharmacy-store type. The smudges were found on the controls of the ride, the car door, the overhead metal bar, and the black ladies’ shoe—size seven and a half.”
“Anything fingerprint-related?”
“No, but the gloves were what I was interested in. They were nitrile exam gloves…”
“And you know this because…”
“They are made from nitrile butadiene rubber, another synthetic type of material, making them an alternative for people with latex allergies and they have a longer shelf-life than the typical latex gloves.” He moved to another computer. “Nitrile is three times more resistant to punctures, but if they do puncture they create a noticeable tear, it’s easily visible. You have to order them through specialty places and not a hardware store or pharmacy.”
“Aren’t they the most expensive type of exam gloves? More than latex and vinyl?” she said.
“Yep.”
“This could mean that the killer is in some kind of industry that requires them, like agricultural, chemical, laboratories, medical, and even our industry.” Katie’s mind began to reel events quickly, like a movie screen. “So you said if there’s a tear, you can see it. Does that translate into impression evidence? Can you actually see the tear?”
“Great observation. On the left side of the Ferris wheel car, there’s a bloody impression of a hand—no visible prints, but you could clearly see a tear area where the index finger is located. It would be my guess that the killer injured their right index finger—most likely nothing entailing any medical care, but worse than a paper cut.”
“Okay,” said Katie. The evidence was interesting, but didn’t really help unless they had a suspect to look at.
“I know it isn’t much but it might give a better understanding of the kind of person who would use those types of gloves.” He smiled. “So, I know that you’re wondering about the similarities of the injuries between Darla Winchell and Jeanine Trenton.” He moved aside so that Katie could see the computer screen. “Here are the victims’ chest injuries. See the round indentations, like something cylindrical? Now look when I change the lighting source: ultraviolet, and then, infrared. You can really see how many times each victim was struck. At first, it looks like twice or maybe three times, but it appears that there are many blows, some in the same places. Darla was clearly struck more times than Jeanine.”
Katie watched, intrigued by how the impressions on each victim’s chest could be clearly seen with a different light source. It meant that the killer was slowly bruising the heart, knowing just how much would incapacitate them, or even eventually be the death blow.
“What about the knife that cut their throats?”
“That’s actually tricky.”
Katie waited. She knew John’s style and she wasn’t going to push him. He would explain everything in his way, and in his own time.
“The cuts were different. Jeanine’s was more precise and Darla’s was more ragged. It could be that there were two different knives, one sharper than the other.”
“So you still think it was a butcher’s knife?”
“It’s consistent.”
Katie jotted a few notes down for her own reference. “I wish we could find the murder weapons,” she said, more to herself than to John.
“The heavy makeup is basically a cheap brand that is available everywhere, as before. There’s no way to trace it. I also had it tested and there are no foreign chemicals, either natural or otherwise.”
“I know you’ve probably not had enough time to test the blood…”
“We did a preliminary test from several places to confirm that it is human, and the ABO type, which is AB negative. The DNA process will take a couple of weeks, I’m afraid.”
Katie was exhausted thinking about all the possibilities.
“Okay, stop,” he said.
“What?”
“You look frustrated. Sorry, but evidence doesn’t lie. It can be sneaky and hide sometimes, but it can’t be untruthful.”
“It’s just difficult when there are several cases. It’s a juggling act.”
John stood up and faced Katie. He studied her for a moment. “I’ve never seen anyone so committed.”
“It’s my job,” she said, taking a step back.
“That was impressive watching Cisco tracking the killer and victim’s steps at the fairgrounds.”
Katie smiled, still feeling a bit uncomfortable.
“I’m still working on the knots on Darla’s hair and the ribbon holding the size six garnet ring.”
“Anything about the ring?” she asked.
“It’s a high-quality garnet, older facet but there was some trace residue that I’m trying to track down. It’s a type of grease, but I’m not sure yet what its origin is.”
“Could it be from the makeup?”
John went to another computer station and took a moment to pull up the files and clicked on the garnet ring. “It appears to be a type of soap grease with the properties of a simple soap—rather than the anti-bacterial kind. The reason I say grease is because the main thickener used in grease is a metallic soap substance. These metals include lithium, aluminum, sodium and calcium.”
“Did someone try to clean the ring?”
“You know how a ring could get stuck on your finger? Maybe the killer, or someone, could have soaped the finger to get the ring off?”
“More than likely; maybe the killer used a particular soap to clean the cut on their finger.”
“I also found traces of these chemicals on the body, forearms, and her hair.”
“Why would the killer clean the victim?”
“That, Katie, is your job,” he said and smiled. “I’ll have final reports to you tomorrow or the next day, but I wanted you to have the preliminaries.”
“I appreciate that. Thanks, John. Can you email the photos?”
“Of course. You’ll get them later today.” He turned around. “Oh, by the way…”
She walked back toward him.
“I was able to compare the impression evidence at the fairgrounds to the oversized screwdriver. That’s how someone gained access, but there weren’t any fingerprints or anything identifiable on the tool or the lock. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. At least we know how someone, most likely the killer, got into the fairgrounds.”
He nodded.
Katie left and quietly shut the door behind her. She was standing in the hallway when her phone alerted her to a text.
She quickly glanced at the cell phone screen from McGaven.
You’re the bait.