Twisted Path

by Melissa F. Miller

  She popped to her feet, and he introduced her. “This is Detective Martin. She worked the original murder, and she’ll be working this one, too.”

  She nodded, tight-lipped, and sat back down.

  Bodhi jerked his chin toward her as Saul began to introduce his team and mouthed ‘coffee?’ He was positioned near enough to the drink station that he could get her a cup without disrupting the meeting.

  Her grin lit up her face and she nodded eagerly. ‘Black,’ she mouthed back.

  He stood and slipped behind Meghan’s chair. By the time Saul was saying his name, he was back, sliding the ceramic mug across the table to a grateful homicide detective. It was a simple gesture, an act of service which he did gladly and easily. He could see from her smile that it had scored him points. That hadn’t been his motivation, but it never hurt to have a friendly face on the team.

  “Dr. Bodhi King used to be a pathologist with our department. Now, he’s a famous consultant,” Saul proclaimed.

  One of Bodhi’s eyebrows crept up. “Famous might be an overstatement.”

  “It’s not,” Tory corrected him. “You’re famous in our world, at least.” She explained for the benefit of the others. “Bodhi’s being modest. He solves unsolvable forensic mysteries. The energy death clusters, those senior citizens who died of fright in the Florida Keys.”

  “Don’t forget the zombies up in Canada,” Saul reminded her.

  Detective Martin’s mouth quirked. “Zombies, eh?”

  “It’s a long story.” Bodhi figured he should wrest control of his resume before Saul mentioned the international agricultural espionage thing in Illinois and accidently revealed confidential national security secrets. “I’ve been fortunate to be able to help unravel some knotty problems. I hope I can do the same here. Especially because I worked on the Raina Noor murder back when I was with the medical examiner’s office.”

  He expected some reaction from the law enforcement contingent, but they appeared to be unperturbed.

  Recognition lit in Roland Lee’s eyes. “Of course. I thought I knew you from somewhere.”

  “Speaking for the district attorney’s office, we’re happy to have your help on this,” Meghan said, reiterating her earlier comment.

  “The more the merrier,” Detective Gilbert deadpanned in a decidedly un-merry voice.

  For now, Bodhi thought.

  In his experience, the initial gratitude and acceptance eventually gave way to resistance, if not outright resentment. Very few organizations enjoyed an outsider who questioned their work, rejected their conclusions, or otherwise challenged their authority. He hoped his status as a former colleague would lessen the likelihood that he’d ruffle feathers.

  “Thanks. I’m glad to be on the team.”

  Saul nodded and rubbed his hands together. “Okay, then. Unless the DA’s office or the homicide squad has another suggestion, I thought we’d start by answering any questions folks might have about the DNA results.”

  “We only have one question, Dr. David. How the devil did Damon Tenley’s blasted DNA turn up on the murder weapon, the vic, and all over the freaking room when he was miles away, locked in a twelve-by-six cell?” Gilbert’s full voice rolled over the room like a wave.

  “Just the one, huh?” Saul cracked.

  The attempt at humor earned him a handful of soft laughs, but the room crackled with interest as the assembled group leaned forward as one, desperate for an answer.

  He eyed Bodhi, who gave a short shake of his head then tilted it right—toward Tory. She was the department’s senior DNA serologist, after all. Bodhi had no interest in kicking off the first meeting by making an enemy of her.

  Saul blinked his understanding.

  “With the caveat that we don’t have an answer to that crucial question yet, Ms. Thurmont will walk you through the DNA results. Just a high-level summary, please, Tory.”

  Her smile stopped well south of her eyes. She shuffled her papers into a tidy pile, tapped her pen on the table, and sipped her water before she spoke.

  “The inquiry into the DNA results is proceeding on two simultaneous, but separate, tracks spearheaded by two different teams. The first team is going back through the evidence gathered from the Giles Noor crime scene. Obviously, that’s still ongoing, but I can tell you this much: I have zero doubt. It’s Damon Tenley’s DNA.”

  “How can that be?” Roland demanded.

  She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose with one finger and gave the lawyer an even look. “I don’t know. All I know is it’s a match for his DNA.”

  “Do you agree, Dr. King?” Gilbert wanted to know.

  Every pair of eyes in the room turned to look at him. Tory’s were narrowed to slits and her mouth was a tight line. He chose his words with care. “I’m not a DNA expert. But I think everyone who reviewed Tory’s original typing report in the Raina Noor case and this new preliminary report would agree that the samples are a match. I don’t suppose he happens to be an identical twin?”

  “Do twins really have identical DNA?” Martin asked.

  “They really do. Well, at least as far as we are able to see,” Tory told her. “The issue’s come up in criminal cases in other jurisdictions. If Tenley has an identical twin, who also happens to be a murderer, yeah, current DNA typing would come back as a match for both twins. Now, there is a new test that claims to be able to distinguish between twins by looking, not at repeat sequences, but for single-nucleotide polymorphisms. In English, that means the test searches for small mutations that occurred after the embryo split in utero.”

  “Maybe Tenley’s twin killed Noor to punish the man he blames for his brother’s incarceration?” Lee suggested in a hopeful voice.

  Gilbert gave his head a mournful shake. “No such luck. Damon Tenley was an only child. And his parents died in a car accident when he was four. He was raised by distant relatives—his mother’s second cousin and her husband, both deceased.”

  “Natural causes?” Bodhi asked automatically.

  The question elicited a humorless chuckle from the detective. “Cancer, both of them.”

  So much for the evil twin theory. Bodhi’d known it was an impossibly long shot. If Tenley had a twin who could conveniently call the DNA results into question, his defense attorney would have brought it up at trial.

  Roland Lee opened his mouth, cut his eyes toward Meghan Ford, and clamped it shut.

  “Did you have a thought, Roland?” Saul asked, his tone encouraging.

  He reddened. “It’s a theory, of sorts. But … it’s pretty farfetched.”

  “More farfetched than Bodhi’s twins theory? I welcome out-of-the-box thinking,” Saul reassured him before shooting the district attorney a meaningful look.

  She nodded. “Speak your mind, Roland. Heavens knows we’re in uncharted territory here.”

  Lee bobbed his head. “Okay. I just wondered whether someone might be setting him up? Tenley, I mean. Whoever hired him to kill Raina Noor is still out there somewhere. Tenley never gave up the name of the person who paid him. Assuming they’ve been in contact, could that person have deliberately planted Tenley’s DNA at the scene?” He kept his eyes pinned on the table.

  Tory’s pursed lips twitched from side to side. “It’s possible. You know, there was so much DNA, it almost seemed like the killer made no effort to wipe down the room, as if they didn’t care that they were leaving so much behind for us to work with.”

  Meghan asked, “It’s not unheard of. Gang members have been known to leave items at crime scenes to mask their DNA and implicate rival gang members. Items of clothing, beer bottles the other guy’s touched, that sort of thing. They call them DNA kits.” She paused to shake her head at the notion. “Was any other DNA found at the scene?”

  “Just the victim’s, his wife’s, the cleaning crew’s. Nothing unexpected.”

  “Are you running the cleaning people?” Meghan asked the detectives.

  “Already done. They came back clean. No rec
ords. Nobody’s skipped town. No big cash deposits into anybody’s account,” Detective Martin answered.

  The room went quiet. Bodhi got the feeling the detectives had already contemplated Roland’s theory—or one very like it—and found it plausible.

  When Detective Gilbert broke the silence, he confirmed Bodhi’s suspicion. “We’ll go out to Fayette and lean on Tenley. I can’t imagine he’s gonna have a change of heart after all this time, but you never know.”

  “You should pull his visitor log while you’re there,” Meghan suggested.

  “Ya think?” Martin shot back.

  Burton Gilbert placed a hand on her forearm. She slumped back in her chair and clamped her lips together.

  “Good idea, Meghan. If this mystery partner did frame Tenley, they’d need to get their hands on a lot of his DNA, right?” he said in a smooth tone, demonstrating a degree of diplomacy that Bodhi hadn’t expected.

  The district attorney flashed a thin smile.

  Tory said, “It wouldn’t require buckets of spit or anything. Some people are just ‘good shedders.’ They leave their DNA everywhere. And studies have shown that some DNA profiles are just … dominant. On an item that’s been touched by, say, six people, one good shedder with strong DNA could overwhelm the other samples.”

  She waited a moment for the implications to sink in.

  Meghan furrowed her brow in thought. She turned back to Tory. “You said there are dual tracks?”

  “Right. The second team is reviewing the Raina Noor case for any irregularities.” She shot a look at Saul.

  He weighed in. “Not that we expect to find any. That case was—is—solid.”

  Detective Martin pointed her pen at Roland Lee. “Question: Tenley decided to enter a guilty plea to take the death penalty off the table, right?”

  “That’s right. He pleaded to murder for hire in exchange for life in prison.”

  “And that happened after Ms. Thurmont testified?”

  “Yes—well, no.” The prosecutor threw Saul a helpless look.

  Bodhi cleared his throat. “Tory didn’t testify at Damon Tenley’s trial. I did.”

  “You testified? You’re a DNA expert, too?” she pressed.

  “No, I’m not. But Tory was sick with the flu, and I was scheduled to testify as to the cause of death. So Sonny Jackson and Annette Morris insisted that I also address the DNA results. I basically read Tory’s report and parroted the results on the stand.”

  He surveyed the reactions around the table. Meghan’s face tightened as if she hadn’t known. Roland locked his eyes on his legal pad. Tory hunched her shoulders. The detectives exchanged a look he couldn’t read. Only Saul seemed unconcerned.

  “It was Annette’s call,” Ronald mumbled.

  “That’s … unfortunate,” Meghan said in a flat voice.

  “Only because we’re in this crazy situation,” Saul said. “With hindsight, sure, we all wish Annette had pushed back the testimony until Tory was feeling better. But let’s not pretend that things like this don’t happen. The criminal docket’s been swamped since I started at the M.E.’s office. We all know what would have happened if the state had asked for a delay. Defense counsel would’ve cried to the judge about Tenley’s constitutional right to a speedy trial. Having Bodhi step in was a reasonable idea. At the time.”

  “Sure, at the time. But now, it just adds to the stink on this case,” Gilbert groused.

  “In what way?” Roland pressed him.

  But it was Tory who answered. “Oh, come on, we’re all thinking the same thing here. Tenley had no choice but to take a plea after Dr. King testified that the DNA at the crime scene was a match. But now, his alleged DNA turns up at a new crime scene and it turns out the prosecution put up a supposed DNA expert who wasn’t even an analyst? Sorry, Bodhi, no offense intended. But it doesn’t take a genius to see—”

  “—that any attorney with half a brain will say the original DNA evidence is unreliable. Tenley couldn’t have killed Giles Noor, and he didn’t kill Raina Noor. All he needs to do is file a motion claiming he took the deal even though he was innocent because he was looking at the death penalty if he didn’t. He’ll recant, ask for a new trial, whatever,” Martin finished the grim thought.

  “Exactly,” Tory agreed.

  “It’s a possibility,” Meghan allowed. “Refresh my recollection—who represented Tenley at trial, Roland?”

  “Penelope Geoffries with the public defender’s office.”

  Meghan groaned. “Great. Passionate Penny. She’s a true crusader if there ever was one. As soon as she hears about this, she’ll find her client an appellate lawyer.”

  Tory blanched. “Does Tenley’s lawyer need to be notified? I mean, the fact that his DNA ties him to a second murder isn’t exactly exculpatory, is it?”

  Bodhi watched the prosecutors’ reactions. Their faces were deliberately blank.

  Finally, Meghan said, “That’s a decision my office will make in the coming days. You should all hope it doesn’t come to that. Any appeal will probably focus on the way the police trample through the crime scenes, contaminating them and making the forensic findings unreliable.”

  Martin opened her mouth to shoot back but closed it just as fast.

  “I’d say this meeting’s about done,” Saul said in a casual tone as he rose to his feet. “The prosecutors have blamed the police for this situation, the police have blamed my office, and Tory here has suggested it was the prosecutor’s screw up. Why don’t we stop trying to fix the blame and get out there and fix the problem.”

  Bodhi tried to hide his grin as he followed his old friend out of the conference room.

  Chapter Five

  Burton balanced his cell phone on his thigh and peeked under the table to check the time surreptitiously. Martin had gone down to get a car from the auto pool twenty minutes ago; she’d probably crossed paths with his unexpected visitor in the lobby.

  The sedan was probably idling in the lot now, no doubt belching exhaust fumes into the air while the driver drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and cursed Burton for keeping her waiting. Neither image bothered him overmuch: one idling vehicle wasn’t going to tip the scales on the environment no matter what the tree huggers said. And the impatient junior detective could damn well cool her heels.

  It was critically important not to rush the trembling, teary-eyed woman sitting across from him. But at the same time, it would be an enormous pain in his backside to have to reschedule the interview with Tenley out at the prison. He forced the thought from his mind and focused his attention on Giles Noor’s widow.

  “Are you sure I can’t get you a glass of water or a soda? Our coffee’s a few hours old, but I could have someone brew us a fresh pot.” He willed her to pass on the coffee. That’d set him back precious minutes.

  She shook her head, sending her blonde hair flying, and sniffed. “No, thank you though.” She looked up and managed a wobbly smile.

  “And you’re sure you don’t want to talk to a victim’s advocate? The social workers are trained to help family members at a time like this.” He left unsaid the fact that he was not. He was trained to find the scumbag that put her in this hellish position in the first place.

  “You’re so kind. I’m … seeing someone. A therapist, I mean.”

  “That’s good. You’re going through a horror most people can only imagine.”

  The tears she’d been holding back leaked out. “I keep thinking the person who knows what this is like, the person who could really help me, is Giles. But, of course, he’s the one who’s … gone.”

  She ended on a wail and covered her face with her hands.

  He waited until she cried herself out. There was nothing else he could do. He couldn’t stop the pain welling in her chest. Once her shoulders stopped shaking and the sobs trailed off into a soft hiccupping sound, he scooted his chair closer to hers and put a hand on her arm.

  “Mrs. Noor, what is it that I can do for you?”

&
nbsp; She wiped her face with the back of her hand and met his eyes. “It’s been a week. I just need to know how close you are to catching the monster who did this to … us.”

  Nowhere near close.

  “The investigation’s in full swing, and we’re running down every lead. If you’re concerned for your safety, I can have a unit assigned to sit outside your house.”

  Not something he usually suggested for the families, but this case was nothing if not unusual. All he needed was for the ghost who killed her husband to come back and score another victim.

  But she sat bolt upright and squared her shoulders. “No. Absolutely not. I mean, thank you, of course. But that’s not necessary.” The brown eyes widened. “Is it?”

  He weighed his response. “I don’t think so. Not based on what we know to this point.”

  Emotion flashed across her face—Fear? Hope? He couldn’t tell.

  “And what do you know?”

  “I can’t tell you the specifics, Mrs. Noor. Please understand. I know this is frustrating for you but we have—”

  “Do you have a suspect?” Her voice caught.

  “Mrs. Noor, I—”

  “Please. I need to know. Shouldn’t the forensic tests be back by now?” She leaned toward him.

  Blast it. She would ask about the forensics. If rookie officers were enamored with the science, civilians regarded it as something approaching magic.

  “We do have some preliminary results. But the medical examiner’s office is double checking them.”

  She processed this information with a head tilt and a quizzical look.

  “Is that standard?”

  He didn’t want to tell her. He knew he shouldn’t. Not yet. But the woman’s husband had been slaughtered in their bed. And their only suspect was behind bars and couldn’t have done it.

  He blew out a long breath. “No. It’s not. But in this case, the forensics team thinks it’s prudent.”

  “Why?”

  “How much do you know about … the first Mrs. Noor’s death?”