What Have You Done(20)
“Forensics. Dwyer.”
“Liam, it’s Jane. We’ve got some preliminary information from the autopsy. Just filed it but thought you might like to hear it.”
Liam checked the computer. The database was still searching through the fingerprints. “What’d you find?”
“Victim was pregnant. About two months.”
The news, laid out so matter-of-factly, stunned him. He sat, the phone to his ear, eyes staring out into nothing, his throat constricting, almost choking him.
“We found traces of blood under her nails and had it analyzed. It appears there are two types from separate sources. The tests we got back confirmed, showing a type O positive, your typical run-of-the-mill, and a rare type AB negative. The victim had the O positive, so if the AB negative is the killer’s, which I would say there’s a strong chance, then such a rare blood type could really help with a conviction. We also sent DNA from the two blood samples and a tissue sample from the fetus to see if the killer was the father.”
“Excellent,” Liam replied quietly, his eyes suddenly locked on the computer screen in front of him. “I’ll let you know what I find regarding the prints. Haven’t run them yet.”
“Okay. Teddy and I will be in soon. We’re stopping by Homicide first.”
“I’ll be here. See you later.”
Liam hung up and leaned forward. The colors from the screen danced in front of his face, mocking him, laughing at his confusion. The FBI’s system had matched three possible suspects, all three having some of the required ten Galton points for a positive identification. The first possible match was a man named George McPherson. He had a history of violence and had been arrested numerous times for various assaults. Liam ruled him out immediately, as he was already behind bars in South Dakota, serving fifteen years for assault with a deadly weapon. The second possible match was not currently in custody, but Eric Landon was living on the other side of the country, in San Diego, and his short history of offenses were more about being a drug addict than a murderer. There was petty theft, harassment, grand larceny, and prostitution, but nothing that would make him out to be more than what he was. The third match was the strangest. This match had all ten Galton points and came through not because of a prior arrest but because he worked in law enforcement. He was living in the area. Just across the Delaware River, in fact. Liam stared at his own image, his name flashing in red font underneath his picture.
LIAM DWYER
He was a match. His fingerprints had been left at the scene, on the dresser and on Kerri’s watch. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen her and if he’d touched her wrist or handled her watch in some way. Perhaps his print had never worn off. No, impossible. There was no excuse to account for his prints being on the dresser in the hotel room. He shut down the database link and pulled up the crime scene photos he’d already loaded into the system. He clicked through each one, hoping to catch sight of himself not wearing any gloves, but in each photograph everyone had his or her gloves on, as was proper procedure. Of course he did. He was a professional. They’d done everything by the book. Always had.
Liam picked up his phone and called Sean. It rang twice before going to his voice mail. He hung up and tried again. Again, it rolled to voice mail.
“Dammit.”
Liam shut off the computer and pushed himself away from his desk. There had to be an explanation. He had to think. How could his prints have gotten onto the crime scene? And worse, how could such a rare blood type have gotten under Kerri’s fingernails?
Where were you last night? Why can’t you remember?
Liam pulled his shirt down and traced the scratch from his shoulder to his chest.
AB negative.
Liam Dwyer was AB negative.
14
The steam from the shower lingered in the bathroom, the light mist floating with the current in the air. Sean did his best to wipe the condensation from the mirror above the sink, but the haze kept returning, smudging the details of his half-shaven face until it once again disappeared behind the thin film. He worked fast to finish up before the shaving cream dried and left his skin to burn. The tapping of the razor against the sink was rapid, thoughts of Kerri Miller taking up most of his morning.
His sleep had been shallow, and he was tired. He’d gotten in from the marina at midnight and was up at four. He’d gone for a run through the neighborhood to try to keep his head clear. When everything was still dark and empty, Sean felt most at peace. He basked in the quiet, the streetlights the only thing watching him as he jogged through the roads and cul-de-sacs. When his legs could no longer carry him, he’d stopped at a roadside breakfast cart and bought himself a bacon-egg-and-cheese and an orange juice, then returned home before the early onset of rush hour began.
Despite how much he would try to keep things hidden, he knew his friendship with Kerri and the relationship between Kerri and Liam wouldn’t stay a secret for long. With both Forensics and Homicide working the investigation, someone would eventually discover something, and once they found out about Liam and Kerri being lovers, the news would be passed on quickly. He knew how these things worked. First, it would hit internally and travel through the department. Internal Affairs would get involved, and the brass would try to keep a lid on things, but such news would be too hot to keep under wraps for any extended period of time. It would undoubtedly leak beyond the walls of the station house and out into the streets. The media would have it and then pass it on to the public. At that moment, his brother would become the primary suspect of their murder investigation, and Sean would be chastised for keeping his brother’s affair a secret. But for now, no one knew anything. He’d work hard to keep it that way as long as he could.