Page 39 of Our Daughter's Bones
“Did you know that Sterling cheated on me?”
The doors opened, and Mackenzie pushed the memory to the back of her mind. They straightened and fixed their jackets, heading to the conference room.
Through the window, she saw the throng of people that had gathered. Angela, the petite and spectacled forensic anthropologist always dressed in striped shirts, sat at the table with Becky. Lieutenant Peck appeared to be in a heated conversation with Sergeant Sully. When Sully yawned and stuffed a cookie in his face, Peck shook his head and gave up. Justin, Clint, and Jenna were huddled in a corner by the snacks, laughing. For the first time, Mackenzie saw Justin smile. It was subtle and controlled, but unmistakably a smile.
What made her curious was the man to whom Captain Murphy was talking. He was about Mackenzie’s height—five feet ten inches—and dressed in a black suit. His dark wavy hair was white on the sides. He laughed at something Murphy said, and the corners of his brown eyes wrinkled. Mackenzie liked his face—it wasn’t spectacular or chiseled like Sterling’s or Nick’s, but it had a reliable and gentle quality.
“Who’s that Mark Ruffalo lookalike? The FBI agent?” Mackenzie asked.
“Daniel St. Clair.” Nick trashed the cup. “From Chicago. Top of his class in Quantico. He requested to be put on this case.”
“Really? How do you know?”
“A buddy of mine’s in the FBI.”
“Why does he care so much about what happens in Lakemore?”
“Who the hell knows,” he muttered as they entered the room.
Mackenzie went on autopilot, greeting the team and making small talk as everyone began to settle down. Once they were seated around the table, she glanced over at St. Clair, sitting across from her. He gave her a polite smile.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming.” Peck stood at the head of the table. “We are here to brief Special Agent Daniel St. Clair from the FBI, who has kindly agreed to act as a consultant.” He cocked a thick eyebrow at Nick and Mackenzie.
Mackenzie saw Nick give Peck a sardonic smile. It was his way of showing the middle finger.
“Let’s go over the case details. Sergeant Sully?”
Sully jerked, in the middle of combing his mustache. Peck sighed, defeated, and sat down.
Sully read from a report in a disinterested tone. “Last year, on September eleventh, Erica Perez went missing. She was last seen alive at eight in the evening when she had dinner with her parents, Samuel and Gabriella Perez. According to their statements, she retreated into her room to sleep at nine o’clock, because she had a headache. The next morning at six o’clock, when Samuel went to wake her up, Erica was missing, and the window to her room was wide open.”
Nick displayed pictures on the table for everyone to view. “The police arrived by seven, and as can be seen in these pictures taken of Erica’s room, everything was in place. There was no sign of a struggle, which leads to three theories—either Erica left of her own will, or she was lured out by someone she knew, or she was abducted at gunpoint.”
Nick distributed copies of the forensic report from the crime lab. Mackenzie looked at a picture of a swatch of cut-up cloth that matched Erica’s bed sheet. “The crime scene investigators found semen on Erica’s bed, which was visible under ultraviolet light. The samples were sent to the Washington State Patrol Crime Lab. They performed PCR to compare—”
“PCR?” Captain Murphy grumbled.
“Polymerase chain reaction, Captain. A technique that amplifies the amount of DNA without changing it,” Becky said.
“What are these bands on this thing? What does all this mean?” He squinted at the paper and then patted at his pockets to look for his reading glasses.
“These are the results of RFLPs—restriction fragment length polymorphisms,” St. Clair pitched in, and traced his finger on the paper Murphy was holding. “They use special enzymes that cut DNA into different lengths, leading to a unique pattern for every person. This column is the pattern generated by the semen they found and the other is that of a person of interest. Since they are the same, it’s a match.”
Mackenzie liked Daniel’s voice and tone; it was soothing, like she could be lulled into sleep just listening to it.
“You know your biology, Agent St. Clair.” Becky raised a brow.
“Daniel, please. It was my major in undergrad.”
Murphy guffawed. “Unique like fingerprints. I never really understood all this fancy tech. I liked to rely on my charm and fists.”
Daniel pressed his lips into a thin line. Sully rolled his eyes. Captain Murphy was ancient and needed to retire. But Mackenzie knew that the old man wouldn’t leave his seat without a fight. He was the most stubborn presence in Lakemore PD, like set caramel stuck to a pan that hadn’t been buttered enough.
“That’s very impressive, Captain. Good to know,” Becky quipped.
Nick drank water to hide his smile.
Classic Becky.
