25
Darby opened the door to Exam Room 2. The Wonder Twins had placed a small pair of binoculars inside a fuming chamber.
Mark Alves, his Portuguese skin tanned the colour of mahogany, pointed to the binoculars and said, ‘I don’t think we’re going to get any prints off them. Hopefully we’ll have better luck with this stuff.’
He pointed to the items on the table: a bloody straight-edged razor and labelled strips of duct tape.
Randy Scott, a pencil tucked behind his ear, stood next to Darby, flipping through pages on his clipboard. He smelled of sunscreen. He never tanned and avoided the sun. His father and brother had died of melanoma, the same skin cancer that had killed Darby’s mother.
While she waited, Darby looked at the well-worn binoculars. NIKON was stamped on the plastic chassis. The manufacturer had installed a thick black rubber armour to prevent damage in case they were dropped. The rubber had cracked because of age and exposure, and she saw scratches on the lenses and a mended crack along the side the owner had repaired with glue. The heads of two Phillips-head screws had been stripped.
‘Okay, here it is,’ Randy said. ‘The bloody footprints on the driveway, walkway and front steps belong to the EMTs. We matched them to the boots they were wearing last night. The footprints you found in the garage match the ones on the deck and kitchen floor. And the size and shape matches the muddy footprint on the living room carpet.
‘We lifted a really good footprint from the garage and kitchen floors. The sole and tread marks match a type of sneaker called the Gel Nimbus, made by Asics. They’re a size nine. They’re also a woman’s sneaker.’
‘A woman’s sneaker,’ Darby repeated, more to herself than to Randy.
‘That’s according to the national footwear database we use, and I triple-checked everything just to make sure. That being said, I’m not suggesting a woman was inside the house. It could be that a man accidently bought them. It does happen on occasion. Tell her, Mark.’
Mark didn’t answer, just kept writing on his clipboard.
‘Tell me what?’ Darby asked.
Mark sighed. ‘There was this one time I accidentally bought a pair of women’s sneakers. I went to a basement sale and some of the sneakers were mixed up. They fit, they were comfortable, so I bought them.’
‘You said you liked the cute yellow stripes,’ Randy said. ‘That’s why you bought them.’
Darby laughed. Mark shot Randy the finger and returned to his notes.
‘I checked our footwear… database,’ Randy said, grinning. The lab’s footwear database consisted of a collection of three-ring binders. ‘I didn’t find a match to any evidence from local cases.’
‘What did you find in the woods?’
‘This way,’ he said, opening the door.
She followed him to a small conference room. Bagged evidence sat on the table. He had tacked pictures of the evidence to a wall. Across from it, on a whiteboard, he had drawn a topographical sketch of the woods, dividing sections into twenty-eight quadrants and marking the areas where he’d found evidence.
‘These areas right here – Quadrants 1 through 7 – are directly behind the back fence,’ Randy said. ‘The gentleman you encountered with the night-vision goggles stood behind the tree in Quadrant 17 – the same place you found the blister pack. That area gave him a great tactical advantage. He could see the woods, and he had quick access to the second incline that led up to the road.
‘The first stun grenade landed here, in Quadrant 10, where you found the phone. We recovered the spent shell casings from that area and from the top of the second incline, Quadrants 24 and 25. They’re all Smith and Wesson forties. We dug the slugs from the tree trunk and sent them up to ballistics.
‘He threw three smoke grenades, and, as you can see, they line the second row here near the top of the first incline, Quadrants 9 through 13.’
‘He created a smoke screen.’
‘That’s exactly what he did. He kept everyone back in order to provide enough time for him to grab the phone and for his partners to haul away the body. All the items of evidence we recovered were in tight, concentrated areas. Except for this.’ He pointed to the top-left-hand corner, Quadrant 22. ‘This is where I found the binoculars. It’s far away from the other footprints we found in the woods. The footprints I found in Quadrant 22 match the ones left on the deck steps and on the garage floor.’
‘Do the sneaker prints match any of the others you found inside the woods?’
‘No, they don’t.’
Darby stared at the grid map, thinking about the person who had shot their way inside the house and cut Sean Sheppard lose. If this shooter was part of the group she’d seen in the woods, why were they standing so far away from the others?
‘That’s all I have,’ Randy said. ‘Do you want to examine the evidence yourself, or would you like me to work on it?’
‘I want to see one of the Smith and Wesson forties.’
He handed her a bag. He had bagged each spent round individually and marked it with a number to correspond to its location on the grid map. Christ, he’s thorough.
Using a pen, she examined the spark plug. It seemed to be the right size. No irregular borders or markings.
‘I want to run each one of these through the mass spectrometer.’ She told him about the microstamp.
Darby checked her watch. Quarter to four.
‘Mark and I won’t leave until we’re finished,’ Randy said. ‘I know this is a top priority.’
‘I was just checking the time. I need to make some phone calls.’
‘Well, we’ll be here if you need us.’
‘Nice work, Randy.’
‘Nothing to it.’
26
Darby sat in her office chair, typing on her keyboard. She had, courtesy of Police Commissioner Chadzynski, a computer with direct access to the Boston Police Department’s Crime Justice Information System, the same network used by homicide detectives and patrolmen.
She found the case file numbers for the murders of Donnie and Sue Sheppard. No details were listed. She looked at the date. April 13, 1983. Homicides prior to 1985 hadn’t been transferred to the database. The murder books and physical evidence were stored in one of the trailers out in Hyde Park. She picked up the phone. The desk sergeant who took the call promised to deliver the murder books and the associated evidence to the lab no later than noon tomorrow.
A Google searched revealed that RES did, in fact, stand for Reynolds Engineering Systems. The company was based in Wilmington, Virginia. According to its website, RES was one of the leading developers of microstamping technology.
She had to wait on the line for more than half an hour while her call was transferred to various department heads. Each time she had to reintroduce herself and explain the reason for her call. Each time the person she talked to had to bump the call up to his or her superior. Finally, a vice-president came on the line, and after much discussion he put her in touch with the head of the division in charge of microstamping, a pleasant-sounding woman named Madeira James.
Darby went through the whole rigmarole of who she was and the reason for her call. James put her on hold. Ten minutes later she came back on the line.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss McCormick, but I needed to gather some materials and also check in with some people. Everyone here is, well, more than a little alarmed at the possibility that one of our microstamped prototypes is connected to a homicide investigation.’