Killing Hour - Lisa Gardner [109]
“Judging from what I’ve seen so far, you’re probably correct.” Quincy turned around, looking back up the darkened path. “I give the new federal agents ten minutes before they arrive down here, and that delay is only because Kimberly promised to be unforthcoming with her answers. I know she’s good at that.” He grimaced, then turned back. “All right, for the next ten minutes at least, I’m part of this case and have authority over evidence. So, Ms. Levine, as a botanist, are any of these samples definitely out of place?”
“The rice,” she said immediately.
“I’ll take half.”
“The vial with fluid, maybe. Though that could be a personal possession.”
“Do we have an inventory of what any of the girls were last seen wearing?”
“No,” answered Rainie.
Quincy mulled it over. “I’ll take half the fluid.”
Mac nodded, and immediately produced a glass vial from the evidence processing kit. Quincy noticed his hands were shaking slightly. Maybe fatigue. Maybe rage. Quincy knew from his own experience that it didn’t really matter. Just as long as you got the job done.
“Why take only half the samples?” Levine asked.
“Because if I took the whole sample, something would be missing. The other agents might notice and ask, and then I might feel compelled to hand it over. If, on the other hand, nothing’s obviously missing . . .”
“They’ll never ask.”
“And I’ll never tell,” Quincy said with a grim smile. “Now, what else?”
Levine gestured helplessly to the pile of bags. “I honestly don’t know. Lighting’s not great, I don’t have a magnifying glass on me. Given the state of half of this stuff, I’d say she picked it up crashing through the underbrush. But without more time for analysis . . .”
“He generally leaves three to four clues,” Mac said quietly.
“So we’re missing something.”
“Or he’s making it harder,” Rainie commented.
Mac shrugged. “I’d say the stack of false positives makes it hard enough.”
Quincy glanced at his watch. “You have five minutes. Sort through, then go. Oh, and Rainie, love, better turn off your cell phone.”
Mac had finished with the girl’s foot and was moving up the body. He tilted back the girl’s head, cracked open her mouth, then inserted a gloved finger into the abyss. “He’s twice hidden something in a victim’s throat,” he said by way of explanation. He twisted his hand left, then right, then sighed and shook his head.
“I got something.” Rainie looked up sharply. “Can I get some better light? I don’t know if this is just bad dandruff or what.”
Quincy adjusted his flashlight. Rainie parted the girl’s hair. There appeared to be a fine powder dusted over the strands. As Rainie shook the victim’s head, more residue fell onto the plastic bag she had laid beneath it.
Levine moved closer, catching some of the dust on her finger and sniffing experimentally. “I don’t know. Not dandruff. Too gritty. Almost . . . I don’t know.”
“Take a sample,” Quincy ordered tersely, his gaze returning to the path. There, he heard it again. Not far off anymore. The thump of descending footfalls.
“Rainie . . .” he murmured tightly.
She hastily scraped a small bit of the powder into a glass vial, corked it, and threw it in her fanny pack. Kathy added some of the rice; Mac had already claimed half of the fluid.
They were scrambling to their feet as Quincy moved toward Levine. “If they ask, you started working the scene under my orders. This is what you found, properly catalogued and waiting for them. As for me, last you knew, I was heading away from the scene. Trust me, you won’t be lying.”
The footsteps pounded closer. Quincy shook the botanist’s hand. “Thank you,” he told Kathy Levine.
“Good luck.”
Quincy headed down the hillside and Rainie and Mac quickly followed suit. Levine watched as the darkness opened up, and then there was no one there at all.