An Eye for an Eye

by Caroline Fardig

  Amanda, however, jumped on him the moment he walked in the door. “Beck, where have you been? We have evidence to process.”

  Beck replied, “I—”

  “Save it,” she snarled. “Grab an item and start working. No more breaks.”

  “I’m your boss, not the other way—”

  “I don’t care. If I see you slacking again, I’ll have Manetti in here, and he will crawl up your ass.”

  I smiled to myself as I turned out the light over my new workstation and began shining a UV light on the blouse I’d chosen. I heard Beck stomping and banging things around, so I assumed he had at least obeyed her command to get to work. Evidently, for as much as Amanda had rubbed off on Sterling, it had gone the other way as well. Sterling would have been proud of the way she shut down Beck, who was his least favorite person in this department, if not the entire county.

  The shirt I was examining was intact, with no clippings having been taken from it. Aside from a few grass and dirt smudges, the thing was pristine, with no stains illuminating under the UV light. The white fabric had yellowed a bit over time, but not nearly as much as the copycat blouses Justin had bought to dress his victims in.

  The door to the lab swung open, and Jayne entered, making a beeline for me. She looked even more frail and drawn than when I’d seen her at the funeral this morning. I removed my mask and gloves as she approached.

  Enveloping me in her arms, she said, “I’ve had my phone off all afternoon and just got Agent Manetti’s message about Rachel. Ellie, I’m so sorry. What can I do for you? I am one hundred percent at your disposal.”

  I hugged her back hard, hoping to stave off any cracks in my emotional armor. “Just think back and remember anything you can about the Leann Fox murder, and about her son. We need all the information we can get.” I let go and took a step back. “Agent Manetti said those of you on the original case are going to meet soon and put your heads together. I know it’s going to be tough on you and Frank, but—”

  “But we’re doing this for Rachel. Don’t you worry about us old-timers. We’re tough.”

  “I know.”

  She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Leann Fox. I don’t know why we didn’t have her case pulled for the detectives to look into. I guess since it seemed to be such a slam dunk all those years ago, we didn’t spend a lot of time investigating. It was a no-brainer. Frank and I had been out to that house on several other occasions for domestic disturbance calls, so no one was surprised when drunk, abusive Samuel Fox finally killed his pretty wife. Even though it was a murder, I don’t remember it being one of my more remarkable cases. I’m sorry we didn’t realize it sooner.”

  I shrugged. “Even if you had, I don’t know that it would have helped. We were looking for Hunter Parsons, not Justin Fox.”

  Jayne took me by the shoulders. “I am throwing every available resource at this case and calling in every favor I have coming. Ellie, we’re going to find Rachel, and we’re going to nail this son of a bitch to the wall. I promise you that.”

  I smiled. I’d balked at Baxter’s promises only an hour ago, but somehow these words from Jayne felt like something I could hold onto. She’d never disappointed me once in all the time I’d known her, and I knew for a fact that she would move heaven and earth if Rachel and I needed it.

  She released me. “I’m going to prepare for my meeting. You keep doing what you’re doing. We will figure this out. Meanwhile, if there’s anything you need, you find me. Got it?”

  I nodded, feeling better than I had in a while. There was nothing like a pep talk from Jayne Walsh.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I put on new gloves and a mask, and once the Mikrosil on my fingerprint from the spade handle was ready, I peeled it off. It revealed a perfect print, this one in a nondescript loop pattern. I took it to the computer and scanned it, and once I’d plotted the individual characteristics of the print, I ran it through AFIS. After a few minutes, I had a list of possible matches, with Samuel Fox, Leann Fox’s husband/convicted killer, at the top.

  Deep in thought, I drummed my fingers on the desk. It stood to reason that a garden tool found at the Fox home would have Samuel Fox’s fingerprints on it. It was also quite possible that he was indeed guilty of murdering his wife, and their son simply couldn’t come to terms with daddy being a killer. Maybe Justin Fox’s insistence in us reopening his mother’s murder was less about finding the “correct” killer and had more to do with him wishing that his father was innocent and that things had turned out differently for everyone involved.

  Delving into a sociopath’s motivations and feelings only made my head hurt, so I gathered the fingerprint evidence, boxed it up to take to the clerk, and logged my information. I then went to process the victim’s skirt. I ran the same procedure as I had on the blouse. The skirt was clean as well. Beck had taken the bra, so the only thing left was the underwear. I got it out, fearing the worst, but it was surprisingly clean for underwear from a death scene. When I shined the UV light on the fabric, however, the crotch illuminated all over. Leann Fox had had sex before her death.

  Taking a step back, I thought for a moment. If things were so bad with her husband that he was the cops’ one and only suspect, it stood to reason that their marriage was degraded enough that sex wouldn’t factor in. Unless they had one of those overly passionate, volatile relationships where the line between love and hate was so blurred that sex was still a major component. Or unless he raped her before he killed her.

  I stripped my gloves off and texted Baxter: Rape kit done or evidence of rape found during autopsy?

  After a few moments, he texted back: No, why? Did you find some kind of evidence of rape?

  Evidence of sex. Forming a theory. I’ll get back with you after more tests.

  I put on a clean pair of gloves and marked the area around the stain with a Sharpie. There had been no cutting made from the underwear, so the previous examiner had not sent a sample in for DNA testing in the original case. Before I did any tests to check for semen, I carefully snipped a small area from the center of the stain, placed it in a tiny manila envelope, and labeled it as a possible DNA test. The only problem with that was I had three days to get a DNA test back—not thirty, which was the standard. It could be done, but a few dozen other cases would have to be pushed aside and this one put at the top. I wasn’t sure Jayne had that many favors at her disposal.

  Heading to the chemical cabinet, I found containers of sodium alpha naphthyl phosphate and Fast Blue B dye. After making a small amount of solution with the two substances, I got out a piece of filter paper and sprayed it with water. I blotted the crotch area of the underwear in hopes of transferring the potential semen to the paper. I then laid out the paper on a sterile tray and dripped a couple of drops of my solution onto it. After about ten seconds, the area on the paper where I’d added the solution began turning purple. This presumptive test for the presence of acid phosphatase, a concentrated enzyme in seminal fluid, indicated the presence of semen. In any other case, there would have to be confirmatory tests done. But for my tight time frame, it was good enough for me.

  “Yes!” I exclaimed, stripping off my mask and wiping the sweat from my forehead with the sleeve of my lab coat.

  From right next to me, a deep voice asked, “Did you find something?”

  I jumped, placing a hand on my thudding heart. “Agent Manetti, didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been here in the lab for several minutes, talking to your fellow criminalists. I’d hardly call that sneaking.”

  I had a thought and turned to face him. “You said if I needed something analyzed fast that you could hook me up.”

  Nodding, he said, “I can. What do you need? Name it.”

  I handed him the small manila envelope with the underwear clipping in it. “I’m not sure on this, but…”

  “But what? Any theory is a valid one at this point,” he said, h
is eyes kind.

  “Okay, so I found evidence—presumptive evidence, which is all I’ve got time for right now—of semen in the underwear Leann Fox was wearing when she died. According to the autopsy, she hadn’t been raped. Here’s my problem with the situation, though—is it the most likely assumption that a married couple with a history of domestic disturbance incidences has consensual sex shortly before the husband kills the wife in such a violent way? Of course it could happen, but I think there’s a strong possibility that this semen does not belong to the husband.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You make an excellent point, Ms. Matthews. I’ll get this sample sent off right away. It might take a couple of days, but I’ll personally make sure you have it back before Sunday evening.”

  I smiled. “Thank you, Agent. It means more than you know.”

  He grinned down at me. “See? Told you I wasn’t so bad.”

  ***

  After cleaning up my workstations and making copious notes about my findings, I set the evidence I’d processed aside for Amanda or Beck to make a second examination. I stripped off my gloves, mask, and lab coat and headed for the break room. My head was pounding, probably from the combination of focused concentration and impending hangover, so I stuffed my face with a chocolate bar. Halfway through, I began wondering whether or not Rachel’s captor was feeding her and instantly became ill. I trashed the rest of the candy bar and headed to Baxter’s desk.

  Partway there, I happened to glance through the window of the smaller conference room and noticed that Sterling and Baxter were inside. After knocking, I entered and saw that they’d set up a command center. There were notes scrawled all over a dry erase board that took up most of one wall, and another wall was plastered with crime scene photos. The conference table was littered with files, court notes, police reports, phone records, and handwritten case notes.

  “Wow. Looks like there’s plenty of documentation on this case. That’s good,” I said, walking over to stand in front of the wall of photos.

  Sterling kept working, shuffling papers around and making notes on the dry erase board, but Baxter came over and stood beside me. “We were able to get the public defender’s files as well, so that will give us some extra insight on Samuel Fox’s side of things.”

  In glancing over some of the photos, something popped out at me. “Based on the clothes, the garden spade, and Amy Donovan’s manner of death, I get that Justin Fox’s victims are meant to be his mom.” I pointed to one of the photos where Leann Fox’s entire body was shown lying on her back on the grass. Her head had ended up in a flowerbed, with white daisies surrounding it almost like a halo. “Now I get the daisies.”

  Sterling said from behind us, “Our killer came home and found mommy dearest dead, if you’re wondering why he’s so screwed up. He was ten years old at the time.”

  Feeling a fleeting moment of empathy for Justin Fox, I said quietly, “It’ll screw you up to see your mom meet a violent end.”

  Baxter cast a worried glance at me.

  Sterling went on, “I’m sure that scene was seared into his mind. Once he went full-on psycho, there was probably some part of his brain that wouldn’t rest until he recreated the scene himself in one way or another.”

  I turned to Sterling. “What happened to Justin once his dad got arrested? Did he get put in the system, or was there a relative who took him in?”

  “The system.”

  “No wonder he’s nuts,” I muttered, thinking back to the time Rachel and I were put in foster care.

  Our stint in the system only lasted for six months, but foster care was even worse than living with my horrible mother, which I hadn’t believed was possible. That difficult time period was the catalyst for my downward spiral into teenage delinquency. If Jayne hadn’t come into my life and scared me straight, I could have ended up like Justin Fox.

  Baxter said to me, “I have an appointment tomorrow to meet with his former social worker. I assume you’ll want to come along.”

  “Absolutely. I hope she’ll be forthcoming. Sometimes social workers get all high and mighty about sharing information on minors.”

  Sterling snorted. “The Sheriff has already taken care of that. I don’t know who she threatened, but we were told Social Services would hold nothing back.”

  It was no surprise to me that Jayne was already working to hold up her promise. “Does he have a juvie record?”

  Baxter said, “Surprisingly, no. The guy’s a clean slate as far as we can tell. This killing spree is his first offense.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t you think that’s weird? No gateway crimes—just zero to serial killer?”

  Sterling shook his head. “Oh, I guarantee he’s committed other crimes. He’s slick and simply hasn’t gotten caught. Yet.”

  Baxter said to me, “What about the theory you said you were forming earlier? Anything pop?”

  Deciding it was time to sit down and delve into the case with the detectives, I took a seat and rested my aching feet. “I found seminal fluid in Leann Fox’s underwear. You said according to the autopsy there was no evidence of rape. I find it hard to believe that the man she had consensual sex with was her drunk, abusive husband shortly before he snapped and killed her.”

  “I think you could be onto something there.” Sterling tapped the white board with the end of a dry erase marker. “We’ve listed out the seven times the cops went out over domestic disturbances at the Fox house in the five months leading up to the murder. The last time was two weeks prior. Normally when a relationship gets abusive, so does the sex. But then again, these are not normal people we’re dealing with.”

  Baxter stroked his beard. “So let’s say Leann Fox was cheating on her husband. That gives him an even better motive to kill her.”

  Sterling said, “True, but it also gives us another angle to consider, and another suspect. Two if her side piece was married. The problem is, if a semen stain is the only evidence we find of an affair, it won’t help us. DNA won’t come back soon enough to fit into our seventy-two-hour window, especially since we’re running up against a weekend.”

  I replied, “According to Manetti, it will. He took the sample and promised he’d have the results back to me in time.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it. Feds. Always trying to throw their weight around,” Sterling grumbled.

  “In this case, it’s a good thing. I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

  Baxter asked, “Did you not get anything else from that whole box of evidence?”

  “I didn’t process all of it myself, but I did look at what I assumed was the most pertinent evidence. I managed to find a fingerprint on the spade handle. It was Samuel Fox’s, so that’s not news. And of course I found the blood on the business end of the spade. Also not a surprise.”

  Baxter nodded, deep in thought. “Aside from the Hail Mary of the seminal fluid, I’m afraid this case is not going to be cracked by the physical evidence. We need to spend tonight going over these reports and looking for something that could have been missed. I also want to come up with a list of people to speak to and then hit the pavement bright and early tomorrow.”

  The three of us descended into silence as we started pouring over the documentation from the case. I began with the autopsy report, which didn’t have much more information than what Baxter and I had texted about earlier. The victim’s hyoid bone had been broken, which was a hallmark of manual strangulation. The autopsy showed that, other than being dead, Leann Fox was an otherwise healthy thirty-two-year-old woman. I shivered, noting that she’d been barely older than I was now. Amanda came in after a few minutes and informed us that she and Beck had finished the first examination of the evidence from the Leann Fox case, but they had found nothing of consequence. As I was setting the autopsy report aside, my phone rang. It was Samantha.

  Surprised that she’d be calling so late, I hurried out of the room to take the call. “Hello?”

  Sam’s voice was strained. I c
ould tell she was trying not to show her own devastation over the situation as she spoke. “Hey, Ellie. Rich and I have been going around campus tonight, trying to figure out where Rachel was last seen before…”

  I felt a glimmer of happiness in spite of the dire situation. Samantha and Professor Rich Porter were my closest colleagues in the forensic science department, and some of the most brilliant minds I’d ever come in contact with. It meant the world to me that they were doing what they could to help, and giving up their evening to do it.

  Sam cleared her throat. “Anyway, we think we have something.”

  My heart rate quickened. “You do? What is it?”

  “You know the coffeehouse about a block away from the admin building?”

  “Sure. Java Roasters. Rachel loves that place.”

  “We found a student who saw her walking that way just before one today, so we decided to check it out. Then we talked to one of the baristas there, who said Rachel came in and ordered two coffees…one for herself and one for her ‘date.’ Anyway, she ended up changing her order and getting the coffees to go before anyone joined her. Did you think to check with Tony?”

  I blew out a breath. “Honestly, I hadn’t given him a thought. Rachel hadn’t said a word about him lately, so I was hoping maybe things had cooled between them. You know I don’t discuss him with her if I can help it.”