by Andrew Mayne
“Don’t judge her,” I reply coldly. “I may be a klutz, but from the looks of things, she went down with a hell of a braver fight than I did.”
“No. You’re right. That was out of line.” He replies with a grave tone. “Tough girl.”
“I wish I’d known her better.”
Glenn lowers his voice. “Come on, now that you’re out of the hot seat, you can level with me. You knew her pretty well, didn’t you? Maybe had a little rendezvous in town?”
I’d punch him if he didn’t have a gun and I wasn’t a coward.
All I can fight back with is a hurt look. Hurt that he’d think that of me. Hurt that he’d think that of Juniper.
“Don’t be an asshole.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. It’s the detective side of me. I’m always poking. I wanted to see how you’d react.”
“What difference does it make now? She’s dead and you got the bear.”
“True. I guess it’s like research. If I ever meet someone else like you, I want to know what’s going on inside his head.”
I’m not sure I like the idea of him still probing my motives. “Have you ever met anyone like me before?”
“Actually, when I first met you, I thought I had.”
“Was he a bumbling goof like me?”
Glenn studies me for a moment. “No. He was a killer. As cold a man as you could imagine.”
“A killer?” My stomach churns.
“Fourteen confirmed kills, to be accurate.”
My skin goes cold at the comparison. “A serial killer?”
“I wouldn’t call him that.”
Glenn’s observation isn’t amusing. “Then what? A mass murderer?”
“No. A sniper. I was his spotter.”
I don’t know what to make of that comparison and just manage to mutter, “I’m only dangerous to myself.”
“Maybe. But I still get the feeling I wouldn’t want to see you angry.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
GENBANK
When I get back to my motel room, I notice a voice mail from Julian. “Call me . . .”
“What’s up?” I ask a minute later.
“I’m about to send you a fat file. We got DNA back.”
“That quickly?” I check my watch. His courier picked it up less than twelve hours ago.
“I have a rapid DNA testing start-up, Xellular—with an X.”
“Of course. You named it, I bet. I don’t think I’ve heard of them.” This was the lab he was alluding to. Of course it’s his own.
“Yep. And you probably wouldn’t have heard of them. They’re not in academia. Our main client is the CIA. They use us to identify terrorists and figure out after the fact who they hit with a drone strike. Money is no object, so they were willing to foot the bill on rapid testing. The upside is that we’ll be able to make it commercially available soon.”
“Sounds good. Although I don’t know what to expect out of Juniper’s DNA. If there was some kind of hormonal or pheromonal thing, it would have been in the blood plasma.”
“No,” he corrects me. “Theo, this is the bear’s DNA.”
“The bear’s? I didn’t realize there was a follicle in the sample. It just looked like a short hair shaft.”
“There wasn’t. We got it from the shaft.”
“I didn’t think that was possible.” Accepted wisdom is that hair only contains mitochondrial DNA, or mtDNA, passed from mothers to their children with little change. Men don’t pass it on. Changes in mtDNA are so slow, mainly due to random mutations, that you can use hair as a kind of genetic clock to see when populations split. As far as identifying individuals, it’s pretty useless. The mtDNA of you and all of your maternal cousins is effectively the same.
Nuclear DNA, or nuDNA, is the DNA that contains the combination of your mother’s and your father’s DNA that describes you. This is how you tell one individual from another. This is how you’d try to clone someone or identify their involvement in a crime.
Whereas blood and skin cells contain nuDNA along with mtDNA, hair, the part that grows above the shaft, is made of dead cells not thought to contain any nuclear DNA.
“Hey, something Theo Cray doesn’t know,” Julian says in a mocking tone. “They thought you couldn’t find any nuDNA because of the keratinization process. As the hair cells died and hardened, it was believed to be destroyed. Since we’re finding genetic material in fossils long after the DNA half-life should have destroyed it all, it’s not unreasonable to have suspected that there might be some viable DNA in hair.
“The real challenge was scrubbing the rest of the stuff away. Some Chinese researchers figured out a couple of years ago how to use laundry powder to do that. As it turns out, we’ve been designing custom enzymes for cleaning microchip wafers. We found an even more efficient formula for finding DNA.”
“That’s great. So how’s your dinosaur park coming?”
“Insurance is going to be a bitch. Anyhow, I figured it might be interesting to compare the bear that got Juniper with others involved in attacks. Who knows, maybe they’re susceptible to some kind of mad-bear disease.”
Julian wants a rational explanation, like me. “I don’t know if we’ll be any better at predicting criminal behavior in bears than we are in people.”
He makes an awkward cough. “Sometime when I know I’m not being recorded, we’ll have an off-the-record, politically incorrect conversation about that. Francis Galton was on to something.”
“Galton was a racist,” I reply.
“I don’t mean that part. Anyway, I’ll send you over the DNA file. I haven’t had a chance to upload it to GenBank and find out what subspecies it is. I’m sure Fish and Wildlife already knows all that, including what it had for breakfast. What I know about bears I learned from watching the Muppets.”
Julian knows this is perfect busywork for me. It’s a way for me to deal with the situation on my own terms. I thank him, then hang up.
The e-mail with the zipped file follows shortly after. DNA in software form is just a text file with a list of location numbers, followed by sequences like acaagatgcc attgtccccc ggcctcctgc tgctgctgct ctccggggcc acggccaccg.
Remarkably, you can take this information—which describes the order of the bonds of guanine, adenine, thymine, and cytosine to a sugar and phosphate group—and plug it in to a machine that will recreate the DNA by dripping nucleobases one by one into a solution.
Researchers have e-mailed text files across the Internet, uploaded them to DNA replicators, and then dropped the DNA copy into “blank” cells, which have then started up and become identical versions of the original organism.
It still blows my mind that you can e-mail life like you can cat pictures. Any day now we’ll read about some researchers actually e-mailing the cat across the Internet.
The text file is pretty useless by itself unless you’re familiar with specific sequences and their locations. To make sense of it, you load it into a program called a viewer, where you can more easily understand what you’re looking for.
The search for the genetic origins of disease involves looking at specific regions and trying to identify differences. We thought we’d have cancer and other illnesses licked once we could sequence the whole genome. The trouble was that even assuming the condition was related to just a handful of genes, looking at a sequence couldn’t tell you if it was turned on or off in the body. But we’re making strides.
GenBank is the largest public repository of genetic information. It’s filled with DNA samples from just about every animal on the planet that’s managed to find its way near a DNA collection kit.
The original database fit into a few hardback books. They didn’t contain whole genes, just known base pairs. The most recent version has 165 billion base pairs that would fill seven million books.
Fortunately, it’s available in an online database.
I upload the file Julian sent me. A moment later it spits back the results: Ursus arctos.
A brown bear. In North America we call them grizzlies. Just like the one I saw back at the snowplow shed.
Beyond telling me it belongs to a population in the Wyoming and Yellowstone area, GenBank doesn’t have any additional information.
I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. So I do a search for any groups that have more specific DNA information on local bear populations and find a research group working out of Montana State called Ursa Major.
On a lark, I dial the number on the website.
A woman answers. “This is Dr. Kendall.”
Okay, words . . . “Hello. Um, this is Dr. Theo Cray.”
“What can I do for you Dr. Cray?” She’s polite but to the point.
I’m sure her group is all over Juniper’s bear attack. I’m too embarrassed to tell her exactly why I’m calling. To be honest, I’m not sure even I know why.
“Dr. Kendall, I’ve been doing some research in the area on different fauna and I was wondering if you have a database of bears you’ve tagged or tracked?” I’m not sure how to flat-out ask her for access.
“Yeah. Send me your e-mail and I’ll give you a log-in. What university are you with?”
“Texas. But right now I’m working on a Brilliant grant.”
“Ooh, a brilliant man,” she teases.
“I’ve begged them to change the name.”
“Just e-mail me through the website I’m guessing you found me on and I’ll send it to you. And if I ask for a Brilliant grant, maybe you could put in a word for me?”
“Absolutely.”
Science can be like that. Just give off the right signals and you’re accepted.
Five minutes later I’m in her database poring through hundreds of entries describing different brown and black bears they’ve counted.
Each one has a code, like UA20.22.06. Some also have nicknames from field researchers studying their behavior: Honeypot, Paddington, Paddington 2, Winnie, Booboo, Tricky Dick.
The associated entries explain how they came by their names. Some are random—Tricky Dick was a black bear that managed to get three different sows pregnant at the same time.
It takes me a little while, but I manage to find the DNA database. I upload the file Julian sent me and quickly get a match for the bear hair from Juniper’s wounds.
I pull up the animal’s file, and his name gives me a chill.
Ripper.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
APEX
Ripper’s file contains information collected from hair traps—strands of barbed wire used to snare follicles (the part with nuDNA)—scat, paw prints, and tracking points from when they had him GPS collared for a year.
It’s like an NSA database on the animal. It literally tells me what he had for breakfast on some occasions. Moose. Lots of moose.
Ripper got his name because of how he’d slice open the stomachs of his prey. He preferred long gouges.
Maybe to savor the moose juices? I can only imagine why.
There’s also a lineage showing his relatives and offspring. He’s known to have one surviving cub, just called UA.354.222. I assume that means nobody has even made a connection between an observed bear and his offspring’s DNA.
The GPS tracking dots overlay onto a map showing his range. Apparently his stalking grounds are ten miles from here. Although it’s not unusual for a bear to go outside his territory.
Unfortunately, the GPS information ended last year, so there’s no telling how far he traveled before ending up in this neck of the woods.
A list of hair traps shows a slightly wider range. It appears that many of these data points came before he was collared.
It’s odd—probably because I don’t know any better—that he never ventured over the ridge until now.
Maybe he killed Juniper because he was in unfamiliar territory? Detective Glenn mentioned something about a pass getting shut down from a mudslide. Ripper might have been going on a trek and found himself stuck here.
It’s all speculation on my part.
People tend to think that scientists are experts in all things, when in fact we can be so specialized we know less than a layperson about many scientific topics—like bear behavior.
In the file I also find a photo of Ripper when he was tranquilized for the GPS collar. He looks a lot like how I saw him when he was lying dead on the blue tarp. Ferocious and peaceful at the same time. Here he’s missing a claw on his left front paw.
Claws are basically sharp toenails and grow back after time. I think he had a full set when I saw him. Do they grow back annually?
Still, I’d like to compare. Even though they haven’t done a press conference yet, there has to be a photo online.
Sure enough, a few searches later, I find that the Bozeman Chronicle has an article. It’s a menacing shot of Ripper, his snout facing the camera with his canines bared.
Suspected Killer Grizzly Caught by Fish and Wildlife
BOZEMAN, Mont. Off-the-record sources have confirmed that a tracker with Fish and Wildlife has positively identified and killed the grizzly bear believed to be responsible for the death of a scientist who was doing research near Filmount County. A contact at Wildlife Genetics International said the grizzly has been DNA matched to a bear known as UA.223.334.
The press is going to go nuts over the bear’s nickname when that gets out.
I check Ripper’s file again to see if anyone at Ursa Major has updated his file since the capture.
The most recent entry was last year. I guess the grad student in charge of it is a bit overburdened.
As I close the browser window and the case on Ripper, something catches my eye.
I reload the page to see what it was.
This is odd.
UA.221.999 / “Ripper”
This index number is different from the one in the article.
Do bears have multiple entries?
I type UA.223.334 into the database to see if they’re cross-referenced.
A new file appears on the screen.
UA.223.334 / “Bart”
It’s a description of a totally different bear.
This one has hair-trap samples much closer to here. I pull up a photo. It’s a long-distance shot of him walking across a meadow.
Bart looks an awful lot like Ripper, but even to my untrained eye, they appear to be different bears.
Though I know a bear can put on several hundred pounds before winter and I’m not sure how you tell them apart, to be honest.
I download Bart’s DNA file and load it into a viewer.
This is curious. He and Ripper are related, but there are lots of different gene sequences. About what you’d expect from distant cousins. But not what you’d get from the same animal.
I check the article and the database again just to be certain.
Yep, these are two different DNA samples.
Somebody made a mistake somewhere.
I’m on the Wildlife Genetics International website as fast as I can type. There’s a number. I dial it, at even more of a loss as to what I’m going to say than when I called Ursa Major.
“WGI, to whom may I direct your call?” a woman answers.
“Hello, can you connect me with the laboratory supervisor for sequencing?”
“That would be Dr. Whitcomb. One second.”
“This is Travis,” says a man with a youthful voice.
“Dr. Whitcomb, sorry to bother you. I’m in the field and can’t reach anyone back at the medical examiner’s lab. Um, could you resend me the file for the bear they killed yesterday?”
“Resend?” He sounds annoyed. “I haven’t even sent it out yet.”
Damn. I think of a cover. “Sorry. Someone misinformed me.”
“No problem. I got it right here. Where should I send it?”
In my haste, I give him my university e-mail. I’ll think of a reason later for plausible deniability if someone asks.
I thank him. “Quick question, how did they know it was UA.223.334
without the DNA?”
“How’d they know it was that bear? Beats me. They all look alike to me. I’d ask your tracker.”
I hang up and take a deep breath. I’m a horrible liar and can’t handle the stress.
Worse, I’ve crossed an ethical line here. I’m not sure if I broke a law, but this could bite me in the ass.
Travis’s file comes through my e-mail. I load it into the DNA viewer software.
The sample they say came from the bear I saw on the tarp is Bart’s DNA.
The most likely explanation is that Julian’s lab made a mistake. I frantically dial his number.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“Your lab. Did they mix up the hair sample by chance?”
“I doubt it.”
“Are you positive?”
“I can promise you two things: first, that lab probably never even touched bear DNA before this, and second, if we made those kinds of mistakes, wars could get started. What’s the problem?”
“Nothing. Nothing. I’m sure you’re correct.” Somebody fucked up, big time. “I got to run.” I hastily hang up.
The article mentioned a press conference was going to be held in a couple of hours.
They’re about to say they caught Juniper’s killer.
They didn’t.
The DNA in the hair in Juniper’s wound came from a different bear than the one they killed.
That means her killer is still out there.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ALL CLEAR
I introduce myself as Dr. Theo Cray at the front desk of the sheriff’s office and get directed to a conference room. I pretend I’m supposed to be there and a deputy obligingly escorts me to where Detective Glenn, Sheriff Tyson—the wide-shouldered woman I first saw in the motel parking lot—and several others are gathered.
Richards, the Fish and Wildlife tracker, and Glenn stop their conversation and look up as I enter.
“Dr. Cray?” says Glenn. “I’m sorry, did someone ask you to come down here?”
In a situation like this it’s better to just jump in instead of trying to explain yourself, so I direct my blunt question to Richards. “How did you know that Bart was the bear that killed Juniper?”
