by David Archer
O’Rourke swallowed, forcing the bile back down. If she had called for help, that poor girl might still be alive. “Ms. Washington, why didn’t you come forward? Why didn’t you call the police, at least after he was gone?”
She sobbed. “I was scared,” she said. “I was so scared, I was afraid if I did, he might come after me. I know, I know I should’ve called for help while she was screaming, but I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t realize just how serious it was. I thought the best thing to do was stay out of it. Afterward, when he was gone, I just wanted to get out of there. I thought about calling somebody after I saw the blood, but then I got scared he might come after me. You know, they always put your name in the paper when you call the cops about something, and I didn’t—I was afraid he might come after me.”
“I understand,” O’Rourke said, forcing his anger down. “I’m sure it was a terrifying situation. But what about after we arrested the killer? Surely you heard about it on the news, right? That we got the men who did it?”
Sarah shrugged again. “Well, then I figured you didn’t need me,” she said. “You already had him, right? And I saw his picture on TV, and I thought to myself then that it sure looked like the guy I saw.”
O’Rourke nodded, then just sat there for a few seconds. Finally, he said, “Well, we’re going to need your testimony. You will be called as a witness when this goes to trial, and you have to be able to point to Mr. Prichard and say that he was the man you saw in that van. Can you do that?”
“It’s just I heard he’s out on bail,” Sarah said. “If you say I’m going to testify, don’t you think he’ll come after me?”
“Don’t you worry about that,” O’Rourke said. “We’ve got a monitor on him, so we always know where he is. He gets anywhere near you, he’s going down for good.”
Sarah shrugged and tried to force a smile onto her face. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll testify.”
“That’s good, Ms. Washington. That’s very good.”
* * * * *
After typing up her statement and getting her to sign it, O’Rourke let Sarah leave. Prichard and his friends could swear up and down that there was something wrong with the DNA, but now he had an eyewitness that put Prichard at the scene. That would help to cinch the whole case, so there would be no possible doubt in the minds of the jury.
As soon as he was alone in his office again, he picked up the phone and called Leon Jamison at the DA’s office.
“Kevin? Dave O’Rourke. You’re not going to guess what we just found.”
Jamison sounded tired. “I don’t want to guess,” he said. “Just tell me, will you?”
“We found an eyewitness on the Brenda Starling case. She just picked Sam Prichard out of a photo lineup without a moment’s hesitation.”
“Well, we already knew we had him,” Jamison said. “Where did you find a witness?”
“That’s a funny story. It was actually some of Prichard’s own people who put us onto the fact that there was someone else there when the murder took place. Turns out that a woman was parked out there, waiting to meet somebody who never showed, when Prichard pulled up in the van. She didn’t want to be spotted so she slid down in her seat and tried to hide, but she got a good look at him through the windshield of his van. She said she also heard the girl screaming, and heard Prichard yelling at her. I’ve got her statement and she has agreed to testify.”
“Well, it doesn’t hurt anything, but I don’t see it as that much of a help, either. With the DNA evidence as conclusive as it is, this is pretty much a locked up, solid case. To be perfectly honest, I’m a little surprised Prichard even tried a not guilty plea. He has to know we’ve got him dead to rights, doesn’t he?”
“Of course he does,” O’Rourke said. “He was a cop himself, for crying out loud. He knows there’s no hope of beating the charge, which is why I’m keeping people watching him. I had to pull a few strings with Denver PD, but there are a few cops down there who don’t like him very much. You know he’s been instrumental in busting some cops down there, right? That certainly didn’t buy him any friends.”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s a great guy,” Jamison said. “He just happens to be a psycho. You know, they say Jack the Ripper was the royal physician in England, right? Everybody thought he was a great guy, too.”
“Yeah, but he got away with it. I’m going to make damn sure Prichard never does.”
ELEVEN
Sam woke up and saw that the sun was shining brightly through the windows, rolled over and found Indie gone and decided he might as well get up. The GPS monitor wasn’t heavy, but it rubbed on his ankle bone a bit, and he’d woken up several times during the night before he remembered what it was.
Jeff had told him that it was waterproof, so he took a quick shower, climbed into some fresh clothes and headed to the kitchen. Indie was there, and she must’ve heard him coming because a steaming cup of coffee was sitting on the table waiting for him.
“Morning, sunshine,” she said. She looked back at him from where she was standing at the stove, and he could smell the bacon frying. “Breakfast will be ready in just a few minutes.”
“It smells wonderful already,” Sam said. “Where is Kenzie?”
“She’s already had breakfast, she’s in the living room watching TV. I told her to keep it down because you were still sleeping. Bo decided to sleep in like his daddy, and I’m just enjoying it while it lasts.”
“That sounds pretty smart,” Sam said. He picked up his coffee and took a sip, and it was a few moments before Indie set a plate of eggs and bacon in front of him, and then fetched one for herself.
“Denny called a few minutes ago,” Indie said. “FedEx delivered several boxes of evidence from the other cases to them, and he’s running it all to the lab that Ron hired to go through it. He said to tell you to check with him when you were up and about.”
“After breakfast,” Sam mumbled around a bite of eggs. “I need to work on this, but I don’t have to rush out the door.”
She looked at him. “This has me worried, Sam,” she said. “I know you didn’t do it, but with so much evidence making it look like you did, I’m worried we might not be able to…”
“Just put that thought away,” Sam said. “We’re going to find out what’s going on, trust me. I’ve got the best team in the world working on this, and I’m going to dive right in and help them. We’ll find the truth, don’t you worry about it.”
“How can I not worry? Sam, I went through the DNA database more thoroughly than anyone else ever has, and I can’t find any evidence that your DNA profile has been tampered with. How on Earth could anybody have the same DNA profile as you?”
“One of the jailers was talking about that when they were taking me up to Fort Collins. I don’t remember all the details, but he said there’s actually a lot more of this that happens than you ever hear about. There are thousands of DNA points, but they only look for matches on thirteen of them, he said. I think it’s not nearly that difficult to find thirteen matches between a couple of people when you have thousands or maybe millions of people in the database to check it against.”
“But it’s probably the same thirteen points, right? Still, you’re probably right. If they only check those certain points, it leaves the possibility that somebody else could have the same ones you do. I mean, like, if they only looked at blue eyes, there are millions of people that have blue eyes. If they looked at blue eyes and brown hair, you’d still come up with millions of people. With thirteen points to check, out of so many people, you’re bound to find at least a few that would be close enough to be a match, right?”
Sam nodded. “That was what he was trying to tell me. One thing we might do is try to get the DNA samples from this case tested on more points, so we can show that there are definite differences.”
“Well, I saved your profile. If you get more testing done, we can check for the similarities ourselves. Maybe if we can identify several dozen points, we could actu
ally find somebody in the database who really does match up to it.”
They talked as they ate their breakfast, and Kenzie overheard them. She came into the kitchen and climbed into Sam’s lap while he finished his breakfast, so they put aside their conversation about the case while she told them about the latest Disney movie she was watching.
Afterward, when Kenzie went back to the living room, Sam took out his phone and called Denny.
“Denny, it’s Sam,” he said. “Anything new and exciting happening?”
“Good to hear from you, mate,” Denny said. “I’m at the lab now. Got a lad here that seems to be some sort of whiz kid when it comes to going through crime evidence. He’s already found things the original investigators never noticed. You might want to get down here, Sam.”
Sam sighed. “All right, I’ll head that way. Where am I going?”
Denny gave him the address and the name of the lab, and Sam went to get his shoes. He opened his closet and started to reach for the box where he kept his gun and holster, then realized that he wouldn’t be able to carry it while he was on bail. He closed the closet and picked up his wallet and keys, slipped his Swiss Army knife into his pocket and went back to the kitchen.
“I’m going to see Denny,” he said. “He seems pretty impressed with the young man who’s doing the lab work, so I want to go see what they’re finding.”
“Okay. Let me know, will you?”
“Sure will,” Sam said, then he kissed her and held her close for a moment before he turned and headed for the door. Kenzie looked up as he passed through the living room and gave him a smile, so he waved his fingers at her as he stepped onto the porch.
A couple of reporters were sitting in a car, and they hurriedly jumped out to rush toward him.
“Mr. Prichard, can you tell us anything about what you plan to do to try to clear your name?”
“Sorry, guys,” Sam said as he came down the stairs and headed toward the Mustang. “I’m not supposed to be talking about the case at all to you folks.” He ignored their continued questions, climbed into the Mustang and started it up, then backed out of the drive and drove away.
The Caldwell Laboratory was a highly rated lab that was often used by law firms to analyze evidence from crime scenes. There were many cases in which the testimony of their lab technicians had been able to prove that the police crime labs had made errors. They were expensive, because they were one of the best labs in the country. Ron and Jeff had used them occasionally in the past when it was necessary to look for specific kinds of evidence, and they had always done a fantastic job.
Sam pulled up in front of the building and found a place to park, then climbed out and carried his cane along as he walked up to the door. The receptionist at the front desk asked for his name, then told him where to find Denny. He followed her directions down the hall and spotted his friend in a small sitting room.
“Oi, mate,” Denny said. “We’re getting somewhere. There were lots of things in those boxes, and Jeremy found bits of fibers that hadn’t even been tested. We can definitely confirm that at least three of these four murders were committed by the same person, because they used the same rope to tie the girls up.”
Sam’s eyes went wide. “What about this case?” he asked. “Do we have rope fibers from Brenda Starling’s wrists?”
“We don’t know yet,” Denny said. “Unfortunately, getting access to the evidence from this crime is going to take a court order. Ron called your lawyer and she’s filing the necessary motion today. With any luck, Jeremy might get access to that stuff within a few days.”
Sam nodded. “Okay,” he said. “What about DNA?”
“He’s getting ready to do that now,” Denny said. “They have an ANDE Rapid DNA machine, so we will have results within a couple of hours. Come on, let me introduce you. You’re gonna like this lad.”
He tapped on the door frame, where a half door was closed to bar entry. The young man seated at a table across the room looked up and grinned.
“Jeremy,” Denny called. “Come on over. I want you to meet Sam Prichard.”
Jeremy stopped what he was doing and came to the door, reaching through to shake hands with Sam.
“Mr. Prichard,” he said. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I follow your blog.”
Sam grinned. “It’s my wife’s blog, not mine. She just likes to write about some of my adventures. Hopefully, this will turn out to be another good one before it’s over. Right now it’s sort of a nightmare.”
“I understand that,” Jeremy said. “Don’t worry, Mr. Prichard, anybody who reads that blog would know this couldn’t possibly be you. Mr. Cortlandt has explained to me about the discrepancies in the evidence they obtained, so I’m just trying to figure out how they could’ve gotten a DNA match to you from samples that could not be yours.”
“I appreciate that. What about the samples that Denny brought you this morning? Have you been able to test those to see if they come up as a match to me?”
“I’m just getting that started now. In fact, I’d like to take a fresh sample from you while you’re standing here, if that’s okay. I want to see if it actually matches your profile in the CODIS database.”
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Sure,” he said. “That’s probably a really good idea.”
Jeremy stepped away for a moment, then returned with a swab. He opened its protective cover and told Sam to open his mouth wide, then reached inside and rubbed the swab against the inside of his cheek.
“This is what we call a buccal swab,” Jeremy said. “It will give me the best possible source of fresh DNA to test. Once I run this one and compare it to your database profile, we might have some answers. If not, then I’ll compare it to the samples that came in today and see if I still get a match. We’ve already found circumstantial evidence that some of these murders were committed by the same person, and Denny says you couldn’t possibly have been anywhere near them when they happened. If the DNA from those comes back as a match to you, that’ll give us a strong basis for testimony that the DNA evidence against you must be erroneous.”
“I wanted to ask you something,” Sam said. “The way I understand it, DNA profiling only checks thirteen points. How likely is it that only checking those thirteen points is going to give you an accurate match against someone in the database?”
“Well, first off, your information is out of date. In 2017, the FBI raised the bar. It’s now required that, for them, we match twenty core loci instead of thirteen. Some states, including our own, still use the thirteen core loci model, but our system works on the twenty core model. It’s a lot more accurate.”
Sam grinned at him. “And you can get all these results pretty quickly?”
“Within a couple of hours. We actually have six ANDE units here, because we get so many requests for DNA analysis. Windlass has hired us to run these as highest possible priority, so you’ve got us all to yourself for today. I’m going to start all of the machines running now, so I should be able to give you a definitive answer in about two hours.”
“That sounds great,” Sam said. “We’ll check back with you then, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Jeremy said. He turned and went back to where he had been before, and Sam noticed six black machines sitting on racks beside him.
He turned to Denny. “This could be good,” he said. “They got coffee around here anywhere? I could use a cup.”
“Not here,” Denny said, “but there’s a coffee shop right across the street. Come on, mate, I’m buying.”
Sam followed him out of the building and across the street to a small café, and they sat at a table. The waitress came and took their orders, coming back a moment later with two cups of coffee. Sam added sugar to his while Denny took his black, and then Denny reached inside his jacket and took out an envelope.
“I’ve got something more,” he said. “I told you that the police in Tupelo had actually interviewed a suspect. I got them to send along his photo and all the informati
on they had on him. I’m going to hand this to you, Sam, and I want you to brace yourself. All right, mate?”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not real sure I even want to see that?”
“I just want you to prepare yourself.” Denny handed over the envelope, and Sam opened it and pulled out several sheets of paper. He unfolded them and his eyes went wide.
“Holy crap,” Sam said. He was holding a printed photograph of a man.
With the exception of a couple of scars and a flatter, broader nose, he could have been looking at a photo of himself. Granted, the man in the picture was a little heavier than Sam, but the resemblance was uncanny.
He looked at the name printed at the bottom of the photo. “Boyd Benson,” he said. He stared for a moment longer, then looked at Denny. “This guy looks enough like me to be my brother.”
“You saw that, too, did you? I asked Jeremy if there was any correlation between physical resemblance and the possible DNA match, and he said it’s not likely. The parts of the DNA that they look at don’t really have much to do with appearance. Still, that’s pretty uncanny, Sam.”
“It’s downright spooky. How long ago was this taken?”
“About four years ago. The coppers there snapped his photo, but when they couldn’t arrest him, they just filed it away.”
Sam looked up at him. “Four years ago? I was thinking someone might have noticed the similarity to me in the news photos, but that would be before I got any serious media attention.”
He stared at the photo a moment longer, then laid it aside and looked at the other papers. They were a transcript of the interview between a Sergeant Rogers of the Tupelo PD and Mr. Benson.
Sergeant Rogers: Just what brings you to town, Mr. Benson?
Benson: I’m just passing through. On my way to Tennessee, to look for work.
