The Soul Catcher - Alex Kava [71]
“She may have gotten personal enough to get a piece of him under her fingernails,” Ganza said, and immediately had Maggie’s attention. “Most of the skin was her own, but she managed to get in a scratch or two. Enough for DNA. We’re checking to see if it matches the semen.”
“Also, what about the cyanide capsule?” Racine asked. “And that pinkish tint. Stan made it sound like it could have been the poison.”
Now Maggie turned and glanced at Tully. The two of them looked to Cunningham. Yes, what about the cyanide capsule? They had avoided discussing the possible connection between the senator’s daughter and those five suicidal boys from the cabin in the Massachusetts woods. No way was it a coincidence—not that Maggie even believed in coincidences. Someone had gone to an awful lot of trouble to make sure they made a connection. Someone, perhaps, wanting to point out his deed, or rather, his revenge.
“Poison does leave a pinkish tint. Some of the cyanide had been absorbed into her system, but very little,” Keith answered, though no one except Racine seemed interested.
“So,” Racine said, rubbing her temple as if genuinely trying to figure it out. “Why strangle her if you’ve put cyanide in her mouth and taped it shut? Am I the only who thinks that doesn’t make sense?”
“The capsule was strictly for show,” Cunningham finally offered without looking at the detective, making the explanation sound commonplace. He wiped the chalk from his hands, taking a break and picking up his ham on rye. He took a bite without looking at the sandwich, concentrating instead on the diagrams and police reports spread out on the table.
Racine, now back in her chair, shifted impatiently, waiting.
“You must have heard about the standoff last week in Massachusetts.” Cunningham still wouldn’t meet her gaze and flipped through the reports. “Five young men used the same kind of capsule filled with cyanide to commit suicide before they opened fire on ATF and FBI agents. For some reason, someone wants us to know there’s a connection with Senator Brier’s daughter.”
Racine looked around the table, only now realizing this was news only to her. “You all fucking knew about this?”
“The information about the cyanide is classified and so far has been successfully held back from the media.” Cunningham’s tone made Racine sit back. “We need to keep it that way, Detective Racine. Is that understood?”
“Of course. But if I’m to be a part of this task force, I don’t expect information to be held back from me.”
“Fair enough.”
“So was this some sort of revenge killing?” Racine caught on quickly. Maggie couldn’t help but be impressed, and she turned back to the window when Racine looked her way.
“Or is that too obvious?” Racine asked. “The life of a senator’s daughter in exchange for five?”
“Revenge certainly can’t be discounted,” Cunningham answered between bites of his sandwich.
“Maybe now you can also tell me how you knew about it before we discovered it was the senator’s daughter?”
“Excuse me?”
Maggie looked back at Cunningham. Racine dared to ask the question all of them had been thinking. The woman certainly had more guts than brains.
“Why was BSU called in on this?” Racine asked, apparently unaffected by Cunningham’s position of power or his scowl. Maggie couldn’t help thinking that if Racine did have aspirations of getting into the FBI, she may be squashing an important reference.
“A homicide on federal property is a federal matter,” he told Racine in his best cool, authoritarian tone, “and therefore, the FBI is in charge of the investigation.”
“Yeah, I know that. But why BSU?” Racine didn’t flinch. Maggie watched to see if Cunningham would. By now, everyone was