three-thirty."
"Broad daylight."
"You got it. Makes an abduction off the street less likely but still
possible."
My phone beeped, indicating that another call was coming through. The
name of the DA's secretary flashed on the caller ID screen. I let the
line go to voice mail.
"What else?" I asked Johnson. "Was she raped?"
"Unclear. Looks like she was naked when she was hit. The ME says
there was no spatter on the clothes, either low or high velocity, which
he'd expect to find. But there was brain matter and blood transfer
like smears inside the sweater, as if it was pulled on afterward. Also,
he found spermicidal jelly in the vaginal canal, but no boy juice and
no substantial tearing. No skin under the nails, no sign of a
fight."
"What's all that mean?"
"Means she probably had sex, but it might or might not have been rape.
The stuff he found was the spermicide nonoxynol-9, which conics on most
condoms. There was a time when that would've ruled out a rape, but
things have changed since the bad guys learned about the DNA databank.
And if she was just trying to get through it alive, she might not have
fought back."
"On the other hand," I said, "maybe it's not a sex crime at all, and
the coroner found something left over from consensual sex."
"Right. So I need to follow up with the husband and see what he has to
say."
"How much are you going to tell him?" I asked.
"Nothing. If it's about to go public for some reason, we'll get to
them first. Other than that, it's on a need to know basis. I'll ask
him the last time they had sex and what kind of birth control they use.
He'll no doubt draw some inferences about that and ask me if she was
raped, but I'll tell him what I'm going to tell the rest of the family,
which is the truth: We don't know."
"How about Melvin Jackson? Have you had a chance to talk to him
yet?"
"Who's that again?"
"The evicted guy? Wrote mean, threatening letters? I gave you the
file yesterday."
"Right. Sorry, we've been juggling a lot here. When we broke the news
to the family last night, I asked them if the name sounded familiar,
but they didn't think Clarissa ever mentioned him by name. We haven't
followed up yet with Jackson, but it'll happen."
"Very good. Anything else?"
"You know, we're also checking on everyone close to the vie. I even
checked out our girl Susan Kerr. At the museum all day setting up for
a fund-raising auction, then schmoozing all night, just like she said.
So we're working from the victim out, but Jack and I agree we also need
to take the location into account."
These were standard investigative approaches. On the assumption that
the crime isn't random since they rarely are police look to the aspects
of the offense that are unique. That usually means investigating
everything there is to know about the victim. Victim's a working girl?
Most likely killed by a trick or her pimp. Dealer? Probably a
transaction gone bad or a robbery.
But crimes have also been solved by focusing on location. Who, for
example, would know the layout of the home from which the sleeping
child was kidnapped? A neighbor. Maybe a handyman. And here Johnson
made a good point. The Columbia Gorge and Forest Park were the locals'
favorite body-dumping destinations. Who would find their way to the
edge of a previously nonexistent office park?
"Do we know who the future tenant is?"
"There isn't one. It's one of those 'if you build it, they will come'
things." In recent years, Portland's suburbs have enticed out-of-town
firms to relocate operations to this area with the promise of tax
subsidies, an educated workforce, and ready-to-go infrastructure.
"We're going over lists of the usual suspects within a two-mile radius
of the crime scene and the Easter-brooks'. Jack's working on getting a
list of workers at the construction site. There's a couple different
unions and subcontractors involved, so it's taking a little longer than
we'd like. We're also looking at old police reports involving any
incidents along Taylor's Ferry Road. It's mostly car prowls and a few
robberies."
"Page me if you need anything," I said. "As soon as I'm done screening
custodies, I'm going to review Clarissa's files." Unfortunately, no
one at City Hall knew that yet.
"We can send someone over for that," he offered, assuming I had
permission to go in.
"No, I better do it. I'll be able to get through them faster." "I'll
try not to take that personally, Kincaid." "Hey, law school's got to
be good for something, right?" A decent morning at work never lasted
long. When Johnson and I were done, I retrieved the message from
Duncans secretary. The boss wanted to see me.
Duncan was tan as ever, despite the rain. He had to be closing in on
fifty, but in appearance the guy was strangely age-ambiguous: a full
head of white hair, the kind of wrinkles that are "distinguished," and
a movie star smile that in my presence has left his face only once.
"How was Salem?"
"Useless as always. Legislators just don't get what we're trying to
accomplish. I was down testifying yesterday about drug courts. The
liberals don't want to see anyone go to prison on a drug case, and the
law-and-order types want to lock 'em all up, whether it works or not.
But you're done with drug cases now, aren't you?"
"Looks like it," I said. "Thank you again, Duncan, for giving me a
chance in Major Crimes."
"Well, I know it's what you wanted. You might not remember this,
Samantha, but you told me that the first time I met you. It's the only
time a job candidate has ever admitted wanting to prosecute murder
trials. Most people try to hide that kind of ambition."
"You asked me what appealed to me about being a state prosecutor after
having served as an AUSA, and I told you the truth. The feds rarely
get a murder case."
"Still, it showed you had balls, if you can excuse the phrase."
"You might not believe this, sir, but that's not the first time I've
heard that particular compliment. Some day we might even get a
gender-neutral word that captures the same gravitas."
"See, that's a perfect example of what I'm talking about. You showed
that same personality during your initial interview. When you choose
to, you can say what you mean and still be very charming."
When I choose to. For now, I chose to ignore the backhanded part of
the compliment. But if he didn't get to the point soon, that voluntary
charm of mine was going on strike.
"I asked you to go with the police to the Easterbrook home on Sunday