To Catch a Killer(72)

“Your timing is perfect.” I take the pizzas from Victor and lead the way into the kitchen. “Victor just asked me to get you over here anyway.”

Victor and Journey follow me in and take seats around the table.

While I get out plates, napkins, and drinks, Victor gives Journey a thumbnail of what we’re getting ready to do. I notice that he chooses to leave out the part about Chief Culson.

Victor unwraps a buccal swab and holds it by the outside paper. He offers it to Journey. “I know this requires some trust, but would you mind giving me a DNA sample? I promise I’ll only use it to compare with the results Erin found on your teacher’s computer. Nothing else.”

Journey shrugs and takes the swab. He scrubs it around the inside of his mouth. Victor hands one to me and I do the same. When we’re done, we pass the swabs back to Victor and he pops each of them into a test tube with a stopper at the end and marks each one with our initials.

As exciting as it is to actually see how this stuff works, there’s also a sinking sadness that always creeps in. “What about Miss Peters? We can’t get a sample from her.”

Victor slides the test tubes around on the table. “True. But I met with her sister today and asked her for a sample. It’s called familial DNA. So, while it won’t be an exact match, we will be able to confirm if one of the original samples was hers.”

“Are you working on her murder case?” Journey asks, scooping up a slice of pepperoni and sausage pizza.

“You could say I’m consulting. Unofficially,” Victor says.

He lifts the lids on both pizza boxes and takes a long look. “Sorry, Erin.” He chooses a slice from Journey’s meat-laden pizza and ferries it to his plate. “There is one more thing.…” Victor pulls a plain folder out of his briefcase, lays it on the table, and flips through, avoiding smudging pizza grease on any of the papers. He finds a photo and spins it out of the folder and onto the table in front of Journey. “What can you tell me about this?”

Journey folds his slice of pizza taco-style. The photo is a close-up of the side view of the sole of a well-worn Michael Jordan mid-top basketball shoe. “That’s a photo of my right basketball shoe,” he says, reaching for a napkin.

“How can you be sure?” Victor prods.

“Well…” Journey uses his little finger to indicate an area near the toe of the shoe. “See that spot where it’s more dirty and worn than the rest of the sole? It’s kind of an OCD thing, but when I line up a shot I scrape my right foot on the court three times. My shoes always wear out there first.”

I lean over Victor’s shoulder. “They gave you the evidence from Miss Peters’s murder?” I’m practically drooling.

“Easy there, Sherlock.” Victor gives me a pointed look over his shoulder. “I asked for copies of some of the photos.” He slides another photo out for Journey’s view. This one is a close-up of the bottom of the right shoe. There’s a two-inch-long smooth spot right at the spot Journey identified.

Victor slides the photos back into his file. “Okay. That’s consistent with the report.”

“There’s a report? What’s it say?” Journey gives me a wary glance. I know he’s worried, but Lysa told us his shoes came up clean.

“It says…” Victor paws through the pages for the report. Once he finds it, he gives Journey a straight, hard look. “And, for the record, this came from my department at the FBI. It says that the shoe prints found in the blood in the victim’s house are consistent with this exact style and size of shoe.”

A knot of worry develops in my stomach and I push my pizza aside. My gaze stays on Journey’s face. He blinks a few times, swallows hard, and licks his lips. “Why would the FBI do a report on my shoes?”

“Because Sydney probably sent your shoes to the FBI so they would analyze them as part of the evidence, right?” I look to Victor for confirmation.

“She’s right. The FBI is available to local PDs, who don’t have crime labs, to process and analyze evidence. So anyway, about your shoes…” Victor continues. “It was determined that the prints did not come from this exact shoe.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief. Journey’s shoulders relax as well.

“Good news, of course. But how do they know for sure that it wasn’t Journey’s shoe?” I ask.

“Because the shoe that left the prints had a faint kidney-shaped smear on the outside of the right shoe, but it was lower, more toward the heel. The smooth spot on Journey’s shoe is at the top, near his big toe.” Victor points out the areas as he talks about them. “Also, just so you know, your shoe was tested for blood residue and it came up negative.”

“So, if you knew it wasn’t a match, why did you ask Journey to identify his shoes?”

“I was spot-checking to see if the evidence was what they said it was.”

Journey and I share measured smiles across the table. It sounds like this issue with his shoes is settled.





35

Intentionally withholding or destroying evidence in a legal proceeding can result in dire consequences.





—VICTOR FLEMMING


After we finish eating, Victor cleans up the kitchen while I walk Journey out to his van to say good-bye.