Every Last Fear(28)
“Maybe. But he was pretty far away from the gate and the plant was at shoulder height, higher than you’d expect if it was cross-contamination from the dogs tearing out of there. But that’s what we hoped you could tell us.”
Keller narrowed her eyes.
“You could run the DNA, see if you get any hits,” Judy continued.
“The FBI isn’t a private DNA testing service. And we can’t disclose confidential investigation materials,” Keller said.
Judy frowned. “Look, our lawyer says you don’t have jurisdiction and we have no obligation to give you the sample. And we can hire DNA experts and genealogists and have them run it through public and consumer DNA databases. But let’s save us both some time, help one another out here.”
Keller wasn’t so sure that the Adlers’ lawyer was correct. Federal racketeering statutes gave the US jurisdiction over murders committed abroad if the crimes facilitated a domestic criminal enterprise, and the Marconi case gave her a hook. Still, a good lawyer could tie things up for months or even years.
“What is it exactly that you want?” Keller asked.
“Simple. Run the sample through CODIS, and let us know the results.” CODIS was a series of databases that stored millions of DNA profiles collected by federal, state, and local law enforcement. If the sample came from someone who’d been convicted or arrested—or had a family member who’d been convicted or arrested—CODIS would likely get a hit. And if the Feds didn’t get a hit in CODIS, they had relationships with private ancestry companies people used to test and analyze their DNA.
Judy added, “That’s all we need. And if you get a hit, we’ll commit not to disclose anything without your prior approval. If it turns out to be nothing—Evan Pine’s blood or an animal’s or whatever—then we’ll know.”
Keller thought about the photos of the family, thought about the pain in Matt Pine’s eyes that morning. Keller wasn’t sure she would get authorization to disclose information to the Adlers, but there was no way she was letting them walk out of there with the evidence.
“Okay,” Keller said, “you’ve got a deal.”
CHAPTER 17
After the filmmakers ambled out of the field office, Keller arranged for the red droplet on the leaf to be analyzed and run through CODIS. She then turned back to her computer forensics file on the Pine family. She was having a hard time concentrating, questions firing through her head: Was the crime scene staged? If so, then who would want to kill the Pines? Was it an accident, Evan Pine inadvertently gassing his family while killing himself? Or was it an intruder? A third party making it look like a tragic accident. But who and why? Could it be related to her money-laundering investigation of Marconi? And if it was a third party, a contract killer, as the Adlers’ investigator speculated, how could the perp be so careful to wipe the scene clean but leave DNA behind? And why would the perp be bleeding? Did Evan and the intruder have an altercation, and the killer was injured?
She needed to stop, slow down. She wasn’t making a movie, like the Adlers. She needed to take things slowly, methodically, objectively. She would get the results from the DNA tests, she would have the bodies autopsied, she would conduct interviews. And until then, she’d review the digital forensics and documents.
She thumbed absently through pages of data until something caught her eye. Two days before the family left for Mexico, the teenage girl, Maggie, had deactivated all Danny Pine social media. Keller soon thought she knew why: the girl was being cyberbullied. At 2:00 A.M. there had been an onslaught of messages—hurtful, vile messages. Teenage girls were the worst kind of mean. But what had precipitated them? Keller examined the feed on the Free Danny Pine Facebook page. The last post was a video that Maggie called “tip.”
Keller was about to watch the clip when her office phone buzzed. She glanced at the display on the old desk phone. It was her boss, Stan Webb.
“Special Agent Keller,” she said in her official voice. Stan was a formal man, so as a rule Keller kept things formal.
“I need you to come with me to D.C.,” Stan said, without pleasantries. Stan had never asked her to accompany him to headquarters, so this was unusual.
“Sure. When do you—”
“Right away,” Stan said, like it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.
“Today?” Keller felt a sinking in her gut. Being beckoned to HQ—with the boss—couldn’t be good. And it was more time away from Bob and the twins. “Is everything okay?”
“You know how they are. The field offices don’t exist until a reporter calls asking about one of our cases.”
“It’s about the Pines?”
“Appears so. I could kill Fisher for getting us involved.” Fisher was Stan’s boss in Washington, a politico who looked over the East Coast field offices and who’d wormed them into the Pine case. “You’ll need to be prepared to brief the deputy director on the status. And on the Marconi investigation.”
“Of course. When do we need to leave?”
“Ten minutes ago. We’re taking the jet. Wheels lift at fourteen hundred hours.”
Stan always spoke in military time and Keller had to do the conversion in her head: 2:00 P.M. She looked at her watch. She had an hour to get things in order. She wouldn’t have time to go home, but she kept a travel bag at the office. She traveled some for her job, but she’d never flown on a Bureau jet. Someone was taking the Pine situation seriously.