FBI Regional Field Office
San Diego
Kendra and Lynch arrived at FBI field-office main lobby and approached the reception desk. Kendra spoke brusquely to the thick-necked young man behind the counter. “Kendra Michaels and Adam Lynch to see Special Agent in Charge Michael Griffin.”
She expected a blank look and at least two phone calls before they would be admitted since no one had any idea they were coming. Instead, the guard immediately slapped two badges on the counter, each preprinted with their names. “The lab’s on the eighth floor. Do you know where you’re going?”
Kendra stared at him in disbelief. This circumventing of bureaucracy was mind-boggling in her experience. “Uh, yes. Of course.”
The man glanced down at the small nature print that Lynch was holding in his left hand. “Nice painting.”
“It really isn’t.” Lynch scooped the badges up and steered Kendra toward the elevator. “Thank you.”
After the elevator doors closed, Kendra shook her head as she clipped on the badge. “What just happened? Did you tell them we were coming?”
“No. Not at all. I guess I didn’t have to. Griffin knows us too well.”
“He sure does.”
“And this way, we’re the lab’s problem. Appearances to the contrary, Griffin is no fool.”
The elevator opened almost directly in front of the white double doors of the forensics lab. A slender, ponytailed young man in a white lab coat walked past. Kendra remembered him from another case.
“Dustin Freen?”
Freen turned around and smiled. “Hi, guys. What took you so long? I thought you would have been here awhile ago.”
“Apparently everyone knew that but us,” Kendra said.
Lynch immediately got down to business. “Do you have something for us?”
“Actually, I do. I came in early today. Way early. Griffin authorized overtime for this.”
“Nice of him,” Kendra said.
Lynch smiled. “He probably wants to clear the lab and get us out of his hair as quickly as possible.”
Freen spoke to Kendra. “You say that fluid transfer came from the floor in Dr. Waldridge’s hotel room?”
“Yes,” Kendra said. “I couldn’t quite identify the odor.”
“Come in. I may have some answers for you.”
He led them through the double doors into the lab. They walked past several aisles of scientific equipment and lab tables before reaching a series of cubicles that wouldn’t have been out of place in any office in corporate America.
But instead of Dilbert cartoons, most were decorated with gruesome crime-scene photos.
Freen leaned into his cubicle and picked up a printout. “It appears to be a combination of some fairly typical household products.”
“Like what?” Kendra asked.
“Like sodium metabisulfite and sodium hydrosulfite.”
“Common in your household, maybe.”
“They’re the principal ingredients of a rust-stain remover. The trade name is Iron-Out. It was mixed with a smaller amount of hydrogen peroxide.”
Lynch clicked his tongue. “That’s not good news.”
Kendra looked from one to the other. “What am I missing?”
Lynch took a deep breath. “If someone tried to clean up blood from a crime scene, it almost always shows up under Luminol and an ultraviolet light. But there are ways of obscuring it.”
“Like bleach?” Kendra asked.
“That’s one way,” Freen said. “But bleach stinks and totally discolors any carpeting and many hard surfaces it comes into contact with. If you’re trying to cover up a crime, that’s not a very stealthy way of doing it.”
Kendra glanced at the report in Freen’s hands. “I don’t think I like where this is headed.”
Lynch spoke gently. “Iron-Out and hydrogen peroxide can be sprayed over an area to obliterate any bloodstains that might show up under Luminol and a UV light. It doesn’t have a strong odor and doesn’t cause discoloration. There are other chemicals that may be more effective, but these products are easier to get.”
“Shit,” she whispered. “Someone’s trying to hide a bloodstain.”
Freen nodded. “That’s the way it looks. You probably wouldn’t have even known if the liquid hadn’t pooled where you found it. Maybe there was a spill, or it was oversprayed in one area. Santa Monica PD has already been in touch with us about it. They say they probably wouldn’t even know about it if you hadn’t picked up on it, Kendra.”
Someone’s trying to hide a bloodstain.
She could still see the horrified look on the face of that dead man lying in the snow. Did the same thing happen to Waldridge?”
“He could still be okay,” Lynch said.
“But it just got a hell of a lot less likely,” she said jerkily. “But I’m not giving up.”
“I know,” Lynch said softly.
Kendra grabbed the framed print from Lynch’s hand and displayed the backside to Freen. “I need you to do something else for me.”
“Okay,” Freen said doubtfully.
“We found this at the murder scene in Big Bear. We discovered this and nine others, all with fresh splotches on the back. I need to know what this purple stuff is.”
Freen took it from her and held it up, letting the overhead fluorescent light play across the rear surface. “Where did this come from?”
“No idea. But it was placed there and put back on the wall, along with the other prints.”
Freen nodded. “I can take a look, but I’ll have to get approval from Griffin.”
“Please do,” Lynch said. “And tell him to call me if he’d like to discuss it.”
KENDRA SLUMPED DOWN IN the seat of Lynch’s car, trying to fight off the depression. They had just left the FBI building parking lot, and she had been too lost in thought to even speak as they left the building.
“Talk to me,” Lynch said.
“Not much to say. It’s not what I was hoping for, but after seeing that body in the snow last night, I’ve been preparing for the worst.”
“Well, it’s better to know. The police can start testing the floor to see if they can get DNA match off any of the blood residue. And it’s likely they’ll now allocate more manpower and resources to the case.”
She nodded. Okay, think on the positive side. “Yes. And we do have a lot of things set in motion. We have the FBI testing the material from the back of the picture, and hopefully we’ll be able to ID Waldridge’s associate before too long.”
Lynch reached under his seat and pulled out his tablet computer. “I have something that may help.”
She tried to smile. “Sorry, but your skill at Angry Birds isn’t going to be much use to us right now.”
“I don’t like computer games. You should know that by now.”
“Of course. When you’ve mowed down dozens of armed assailants in real life, an online game can’t compare.”
“I wish I was half as interesting as you make me out to be.”
“Are you denying it?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny any operations in which-”
“Blah-blah-blah.”
He flipped back the tablet cover and showed her a close-cropped photo of a man’s head and shoulders. “Look familiar?”
She took the tablet and stared at the photo for a moment. “That’s the dead man we found… But he’s alive here. Where did you get this?”
“He’s not alive here. This is the picture I took with my phone last night. After I got home, I e-mailed it to a friend who’s a wizard with Photoshop. I had her alter the picture to show how he might have looked when he was alive.”
“This is amazing… How did she get the eye color?”