A Different Dawn (Nina Guerrera)

by Isabella Maldonado

  Perez followed her upward gaze. “This mobile has that effect on people the first time they see it. It’s not what you expect to find in this setting.” He strode past her to the inner door. “Let’s go.”

  As soon as they crossed the threshold, a woman with thick, wavy gray hair and silver-rimmed glasses rushed toward them, her white lab coat billowing behind her.

  “Dr. Deborah Ledford.” She stuck out a hand to Nina. “Call me Deb.”

  Perez had texted the lab director to let her know they were coming, and she must have been waiting for their arrival.

  “I didn’t expect to meet with you personally,” Nina said.

  Deb smiled as she started toward the back offices. “When I heard what the examiners found, I verified everything myself,” she said by way of explanation. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this.”

  Nina picked up the pace, matching Deb’s strides. “Where are you taking us?”

  She knew lab protocols wouldn’t allow them into the examination areas due to the potential for cross contamination.

  “I’ve set up a special viewing area,” Deb said, pushing through a door on the right side of the wide corridor.

  They followed her inside, where they continued down a long hallway until they reached a plexiglass window. Nina peered through the glass to see white-coated technicians with full-face shields and hair coverings working with glistening equipment.

  “We’re still performing an analysis of the samples from both the old and the new cases,” Deb told them. “These results are preliminary since the materials from the Llorona case were only submitted to us late Wednesday, which means we didn’t start on them until yesterday morning, but they are highly unexpected. We decided to let you know about these early findings before we completed our full analysis.”

  Nina realized the lab director had referred to the early case by its nickname. The whole city seemed to have an institutional memory of the crime that had scarred it. How would they react when the story they thought they knew turned out to be a false narrative?

  “We performed an expedited DNA and serology examination,” Deb said. “I’m hoping your team can provide some context to assist us as we go further with our analysis.”

  “How can we help?” Nina asked.

  Deb gestured toward the technicians. “We analyzed blood samples recovered from the clothing worn by each victim as well as droplets collected from the walls and carpeting in both cases.”

  Nina pictured the carnage left behind in the two Phoenix homes, then the void in the blood spatter at the Vega house that had prompted them to submit the old material for a new lab analysis.

  “I’ll start with the Llorona case,” Deb said. “The bottom line is that there are four distinct and nonfamilial DNA samples from that scene.”

  “Four?” Nina instantly grew excited. “There were only three victims. Could the fourth be the killer?”

  Perez raised a brow. “Or could the fourth be a friend who came to visit earlier that day, or one of the detectives?”

  “Negative,” Deb said. “We analyzed only blood samples collected as evidence at the scene. The police were good about documenting exactly where each sample came from, so unless a friend stopped by a short time earlier and bled in the same area where the victims died, that’s not possible.”

  They both took a moment to absorb this.

  “You say there were ‘four distinct nonfamilial samples’?” Nina prompted, trying to make sense of the statement.

  Deb sounded as if she’d been waiting for them to come to this point. “Exactly.”

  “But they couldn’t have been nonfamilial,” Nina said. “Their baby girl was—”

  “Not their biological child,” Deb cut in.

  Nina leaned forward, anxious to clarify what the lab director had said. “Copies of the birth records were in the detective’s files. I saw them. Maria Vega definitely delivered a live baby girl at Phoenix General Hospital six days before the murders.”

  Perez rested a hand on his hip. “Are you saying Victor was not the baby’s father?”

  “No.” Deb’s tone was firm but patient. “I’m saying that neither Maria Vega nor Victor Vega has any biological link whatsoever to the infant that died in their home.”

  Stunned, Nina asked the obvious question. “So whose baby was killed?”

  No answer was forthcoming.

  Perez broke the silence. “Would that play into the motive for the murder, since we believe it was the first one?”

  “I analyze evidence,” Deb said, apparently thinking the question had been directed at her. “You’re the investigators.”

  “Wait,” Nina said, still coming to grips with the findings. “The police took the blood to the lab for analysis at the time. They didn’t find any anomalies like this.”

  “Remember that we’re talking about forensic science from almost three decades ago,” Deb said. “There was no DNA testing back then. The detectives relied on physical evidence, witness statements, and serology, which is blood typing.” She paused, seeming to search for the right words. “In this case, blood found at the scene matched the ones who were deceased. There were no extraneous blood types present.”

  Nina thought she understood. “So the killer would have had the same blood type as one of the victims.”

  “That’s precisely what happened.” Deb seemed relieved they had grasped the concept. “The mother and the baby both had type A blood. The father had type O blood, and the mystery person at the scene also had type O blood.”

  “If that’s the case,” Perez said, thinking it through, “when the police analyzed the evidence using only serology, which was standard procedure at the time, they would have typed everyone’s blood and assumed all the samples they collected came from the three victims.”

  “Correct,” Deb said. “If the killer had type B blood or an Rh negative factor, or something like that, it would have been obvious that someone else was at the scene.”

  “But they couldn’t tell because the fourth person shared a blood type with the father,” Nina said.

  “Not surprising, since type O is the most common,” Deb said. “O positive represents thirty-eight percent of the population and O negative is another seven percent. Combined, that’s a total of forty-five percent.”

  Nina marveled at the early state of forensic science that had allowed the unsub to get away with his first crime. Even though the scientist had described how it had occurred, Nina considered it a cruel twist of fate.

  Deb continued her explanation. “And the original lab techs investigating the evidence at the time also wouldn’t have known the baby wasn’t related because she shared a blood type with one of the parents. Scientifically, the baby would have to have a blood type in common with at least one parent, and in this case, she did by chance.”

  Perez groaned his frustration. “What are the odds?”

  “Again, not that steep,” Deb said. “Type A positive is thirty-four percent of the population, and A negative is six percent. Combined, that makes forty percent. It’s all very feasible.”

  “What about the new case?” Nina said. “The Doyles.”

  “There was no extraneous blood at that scene. All samples collected matched the three members of the Doyle family who were killed.”

  “And all three of them are related?” Nina asked, double-checking.

  “Yes. We confirmed the husband and wife are the biological parents of the child.”

  Perez heaved a sigh. “We’ll need to go back and check on the relationship between the family members on every case.”

  Deb’s brows shot up. “There are other cases?”

  Nina addressed the lab director, distracting her from Perez’s inadvertent slip. “Now for the million-dollar question,” she said to Deb. “Did you analyze all four of the DNA samples from the Llorona case?”

  “We’re running the DNA profile through CODIS right now,” Deb said.

  The Combined DNA Index System, which
was the FBI’s program containing DNA profiles contributed by forensic laboratories around the nation, included convicted offenders, certain arrestees, crime scene samples, unidentified human remains, missing persons, and relatives of missing persons. This was their chance to finally put a name to a relentless murderer who had been destroying families for far too long.

  “How soon will we have an answer?” Perez asked.

  “If one of the DNA profiles has already been entered in the system, we’ll get a match within a couple of hours,” Deb said.

  “That works for the suspect,” Nina said. “What about the baby?”

  “Depends.” Deb appeared thoughtful. “If the biological parents are in the criminal database, we could get a strong indicator of a familial match within a few hours as well. If not, we will have to look to external sources like foreign countries or private genealogical companies who are willing to cooperate, which could take weeks. Ultimately, we may never get an answer. There are no guarantees.”

  “Thank you, Deb,” Nina said. “Please advise us as soon as you know anything further.”

  Perez spoke to her in an undertone as they made their way out of the lab. “I’d like to follow up on that birth certificate in Detective O’Malley’s case files. He authenticated it through Arizona state records. With luck, it might be possible to see if the hospital records match.”

  “I’m going to brief Buxton,” she said, coming to a decision. “We need to go to Phoenix General Hospital.” She pulled out her phone. “Now.”

  Chapter 22

  Nina sipped from a Styrofoam cup filled with truly awful coffee in the business-annex waiting room at Phoenix General Hospital. She glanced at Perez. “The suit with the expensive briefcase and designer Italian shoes showed up half an hour ago, but we’re still sitting out here. This has all the earmarks of a panicked butt-covering session.”

  Perez drank from his own cup, made a face, then put it down on the end table next to a rumpled magazine. “Agreed. I’m not buying the admin assistant’s story about wanting to locate all the files so they can help us.” He air-quoted the last two words.

  Nina agreed with his assessment. “If I hear the sound of a paper shredder chewing up documents in the back room, I’m pushing past the admin and going in.”

  Perez leaned closer. “My guess is the hospital screwed up, and they’re in there with their boxers in a bunch, trying to figure out what to tell us.”

  “And avoid a multimillion-dollar lawsuit,” Nina added.

  The office door opened, and a short man with a neat mustache and a sheen of sweat on his balding pate stepped out. “Please come in.”

  He ushered them into a spacious conference room, where Nina saw the man who had wordlessly strode past them earlier. His suit looked like it had cost a month’s worth of her salary, and the gold cufflinks peeking out at his wrists were embedded with twinkling diamonds. He had just the right touch of gray at the temples of a perfectly barbered Afro, lending him an air of wisdom and experience.

  He stood when they entered. “Marcus Johnson, chief legal counsel for the Valance hospital group.”

  Like many hospitals, Phoenix General was part of a network. Nina was not surprised the hospital director had gotten legal counsel to respond in person. The rapid deployment of their top attorney, however, caught her off guard. The gravity of the situation must have been alarming, although Marcus Johnson didn’t show it. The director, however, appeared to be on the verge of nervous collapse.

  The director introduced himself as Tim Davies, and once everyone had settled, Nina opened with a shot across the bow. “As I mentioned nearly forty-five minutes ago,” she said, emphasizing their extended wait, “we are here to investigate the circumstances surrounding the birth of a baby girl, the daughter of Maria and Victor Vega, twenty-eight years ago on February twenty-third.”

  She directed the comment at Davies, who squirmed in his chair and turned to the company lawyer.

  Johnson cleared his throat. “You indicated to Mr. Davies that this has something to do with an investigation you are conducting. May I ask what the delivery of a baby decades ago has to do with the FBI?”

  Johnson was openly fishing for information. Once Davies pulled up the medical files, he would have either recognized the names from the headline-grabbing murder-suicide or found a trove of information about the Llorona case after a quick Google search.

  “We can’t disclose details at this time,” Perez said.

  Johnson looked like he had expected as much. “While you’ve been waiting, we’ve searched through our archives. I am aware that you could obtain a subpoena duces tecum for the documents, so we are willing to share them with you now. Some of the information contained is redacted due to privacy concerns, as they pertain to medical—”

  “The two parents and the infant involved are all deceased,” Nina cut in. “I’m not sure whose medical information you are protecting.”

  Johnson leaned back, a closed look on his smooth features. “That remains to be seen.”

  Nina decided to cut through the legal posturing. “We’ve been getting a lot of questions from the media. I’m sure we can let them know at our next press conference that our investigation has been hampered due to unnecessary—”

  “You’ve requested information about Victor and Maria Vega and the baby girl they delivered at this hospital,” Johnson said. “We can confirm that Maria Vega had a planned cesarean section operation that turned into an emergency surgery when the baby went into distress before delivery.”

  “What happened next?” Nina asked.

  Director Davies dug a finger into his collar. “The infant received standard postpartum care. She recuperated very quickly and was transferred from the NICU to the regular nursery about an hour after delivery. The family was then told they could see her.”

  Nina narrowed her eyes. “How many other babies were born at Phoenix General that day?”

  Davies flicked a glance at Johnson, who raised no objection to answering the question. “Thirty-four babies were delivered at Phoenix General that day,” Davies said. “Of those, three were sent to the NICU, the rest went to the nursery.”

  “Of the three in the NICU, how many were girls?” Nina said, pressing him.

  “Two.”

  She kept up a steady pace of rapid-fire questions. “Of those two, how many were Latina?”

  “One. Maria Vega’s baby.”

  Nina processed the information quickly. She concluded that no mix-up had occurred in the NICU. “So after an hour, the Vega baby went to join the other thirty-one babies in the nursery?”

  Davies cut his eyes to Johnson, who gave him a subtle nod. He swallowed audibly before answering. “Actually, at that point there were a total of thirty-two newborns in the nursery. The Vega baby made thirty-three.”

  Perspiration dotted the director’s scalp.

  Nina, scenting his fear, bore down like a dog after a bone. “But you said thirty-four babies were delivered at the hospital and three went to the NICU, which means thirty-one were in the nursery. Once the Vega baby transferred to the nursery, there would only be thirty-two babies there.”

  “You asked how many babies were delivered at the hospital, and I answered correctly,” Davies said. “There was one baby that was born elsewhere but arrived at the hospital shortly after birth.”

  Nina clenched her fists under the table to prevent herself from shaking him by the lapels until those glistening droplets of sweat flew from his forehead. She tried a different approach. “How many of the babies in the regular nursery were girls?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “How many were Latina?”

  “Including the Vega baby? Two.”

  “Was the other Latina baby the one that was born elsewhere?”

  Davies looked at Johnson, who nodded. “Yes,” Davies said.

  Now she was getting somewhere. “This is important to our investigation, Mr. Davies. What else can you tell me?”

  “The other
baby was born at home,” Davies said after another surreptitious glance at his legal counsel. “Apparently, the mother couldn’t get to the hospital in time. A neighbor reportedly called police when she heard screaming next door. Police arrived to find the woman in labor and ended up delivering the baby in the kitchen moments before the ambulance arrived. Rescue personnel brought the mother and child to the emergency room for evaluation.”

  “And the baby went to the nursery?” Nina asked.

  Davies nodded. “We performed routine checks on the newborn while the mother was receiving treatment.”

  “What kind of treatment?”

  Johnson cut in. “We are not at liberty to say. In her case, privacy rules attach.”

  “Can you provide her name?”

  “We cannot,” Johnson said. “I’m sure you appreciate the legal ramifications.”

  Nina tried for any further scraps of information she could finagle. “Can you tell us when she and the baby were discharged and if her baby survived?”

  “The mother recuperated quickly,” Davies said. “Her baby was healthy. They both left the hospital later that day.” He paused to consider his next comment. “Apparently, the mother chose not to spend the night in the maternity ward.”

  “And Maria Vega?”

  “Ms. Vega and her baby stayed in the hospital four extra days due to the mother’s surgery,” Davies said.

  “Four days in the hospital for a C-section?” Nina asked. “Did something go wrong?”

  “Standard procedure at the time,” Davies said. “Nowadays hospital stays are much shorter.”

  Nina arrived at the inexorable conclusion. “You do realize this means the two baby girls were switched at the hospital before the other woman left?”

  “There is nothing to substantiate that,” Johnson said. “And what makes you believe the babies did not go home with their biological parents?”

  “They were the only two Latina newborns in the nursery that day,” Nina said. “And we have evidence that—” She stopped before revealing that the infant who died at the Vegas’ house was not their biological child. “We have to investigate further,” she said instead. “We need both parents’ names for the other baby.”