Strand of Deception

by Robin Caroll

  He grabbed his cell and punched the number for Maddie. She answered on the first ring. “Hi, Nick.”

  “Hey. How’re you doing?”

  “Good. Are you okay?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” He leaned back in the chair again, just her voice easing his burden and lifting his spirits.

  “Well, Rafe said he was heading to the office . . .”

  He chuckled. “We’re fine. He’s with Timmons right now.”

  “Yeah, well, Peter and Eva have gone into pit-bull mode. I can’t even go to the ladies’ room without Eva joining me.”

  He could make out Eva’s voice in the distance, but not what she was saying. “You’re at work?”

  “Of course I’m at work. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  After last night . . . she’d looked so small and helpless, but he wouldn’t mention that. “I just thought you might still be tired from last night.”

  “I’m fine.” He heard the smile in her voice. “And my mudroom now sports a nice wooden, secure door.”

  “Good.” He paused for a beat. “I actually need to come by your office and talk to you and Eva.”

  “Oh?”

  “About familial DNA?”

  “That’s cutting edge.”

  “CODIS got a potential match.”

  “Ah. I see. Come on over. Eva and I will be happy to help you.”

  “See you soon.” He hung up just as his intercom buzzed.

  “Hagar.”

  “Sir, there is a Ms. Cynthia Mantle here with her attorney to see you.”

  Ah, so she had lawyered up. “Put them in conference room one, please.” He’d let them wait.

  He found Timmons and Rafe in Timmons’s cubicle. “Guess who showed up?”

  Timmons shrugged.

  “Cynthia Mantle. With her attorney.”

  Timmons stood. “Did you ask her in?”

  “No, but it saves us a trip.”

  Rafe gestured to Timmons’s laptop. “Mind if I check my e-mail while I wait?”

  “Go for it.” Timmons followed Nick to the conference room.

  “Ms. Mantle.” Nick took one of the two chairs on the opposite side of the table. Timmons sat beside him.

  “I’m Collette Putman, Ms. Mantle’s attorney.” The perky brunette was pretty, but you could tell a volume of wisdom hid behind those clear, blue eyes.

  “I’m SAC Hagar and this is Agent Timmons.” Nick opened the folder he’d brought, pretended to read, then closed it. “I’m sorry, Ms. Mantle, did I miss that we had an appointment today?”

  Mantle looked at her attorney, who nodded. “No, sir. But I spoke with my creative writing professor and he told me you’d visited him.”

  Nick nodded.

  “Professor Emmel told me about the recording.”

  Again, Nick nodded but remained silent.

  Mantle looked at her lawyer again. She fidgeted in the chair. “I didn’t realize it was so late when I made it to class.”

  Nick crossed his arms over his chest. Often in cases like this, silence was the best response.

  “I forgot I had to stop for gas on Friday morning. After pizza with the study group on Thursday night, it was so late that most of the safer stations were closed. I’d forgotten I needed gas until I got in my car to go to my creative writing class.”

  “Do you have a receipt? Something with a date and time record?” Nick asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Did you pay for it with a debit or credit card?”

  “I paid with cash.”

  Nick tapped the file sitting on the table with his index finger. “Let me get this straight—you just remembered you were later to class on Friday morning than you’d originally thought because you had to stop and get gas. You paid for the gas with cash and don’t have a receipt. You have nothing to prove you actually got gas on Friday morning. Right?”

  Mantle’s eyes filled with tears and she turned to her attorney.

  “Ms. Mantle is here of her own accord, Agent. She realized she had mistakenly given you inaccurate information and came here to correct the record.”

  “Only because her professor told her she’d been caught in a lie.”

  “A mistake, Agent, a mistake. Once her professor brought the actual time of her arrival to class to her attention, she struggled to remember the incidents of that morning.” Ms. Putman gave a smile revealing a row of perfectly straight, white teeth. “I’m sure you can understand that after learning of her best friend’s violent demise, Ms. Mantle wasn’t thinking very clearly.”

  “I see.” Nick opened the folder and stared at Mantle’s previous statement. He stared at Cynthia Mantle. Tears still floated in her eyes. Crocodile tears? Maybe.

  “Ms. Mantle, it is now your amended statement that you called Gina Ford at 8:04 because you were worried about her. You spoke for six minutes, the conversation, per your previous statement . . .” Nick read from the file. “You said when you spoke to Gina, she claimed she was on her way to have one of the most serious discussions of her life. You stated you asked her was this about the confrontation she’d mentioned the night before and she said yes. She said she’d realized she had to confront two people, and both would leave her scarred.”

  Nick shut the file and looked her back in the eye. “Is that correct?”

  Mantle nodded.

  “This call ended at 8:10, correct?”

  “So you said the records indicate.”

  “You then stated you hung up, went and took a shower, then went to your creative writing class.”

  “Yes.” She licked her lips. “But I’d forgotten I had to get gas. After I took my shower, I went to the gas station and filled up my car. Then I went to class, which is why I didn’t get there until 8:59.”

  Nick straightened in his seat. “And you have no proof of buying anything from any station on Friday morning, right?”

  Ms. Putman patted Mantle’s shoulder. “I believe my client has already answered that question, Agent Hagar.”

  “Yes, she has. But your client has lied to us before, omitted information in her original interview, and now comes in with as flimsy an alibi as my dog ate my homework, and you expect us to just believe her with no proof?” Nick shook his head. “Ms. Mantle, you cannot account for your whereabouts between 8:10 and 8:59 on Friday morning. This is during the window of time Gina Ford was murdered.”

  “I didn’t kill her. She was my best friend.”

  “To which you were jealous of, and, in your own words, in the middle of a spat with.”

  “But I didn’t kill her.” Mantle’s tears finally spilled out of her eyes and down her cheeks. “You have to believe me . . . I would never hurt Gina. She was the closest thing to a sister that I had.”

  “But she had David. She had good grades. She had money and friends. Everything you wanted but didn’t have.”

  She shook her head, her whole body shaking as she sobbed.

  “That’s enough, Agent.” Collette Putman stood, patting Mantle’s shoulder. “My client came here on her own to freely amend her statement when she realized she’d omitted an important fact. She did not come here to be badgered.”

  She tossed a piece of paper across the table. “Here’s the name and address of the station my client purchased gasoline from on Friday morning. I’ve requested the surveillance footage from the station from eight until nine on Friday morning. I’ll be sure to send you a copy.” She helped Mantle to her feet. “Come on, Cynthia. Let’s go.”

  Nick watched them leave, gripping the file.

  “Do you think she’s telling the truth?” Timmons asked.

  “I don’t know.” He handed Timmons the sheet of paper Putman had left on the table. “But you contact this station and get that
surveillance tape before she does.”

  Timmons snatched the paper and rushed from the room.

  Nick rotated his neck until it popped. One slice of Swiss could quickly become cheddar if Mantle was on that surveillance video anywhere near eight thirty to eight forty-five.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I like entertaining people. I really miss it.”

  Elvis Presley

  She felt his presence as soon as he entered the lab.

  Maddie turned to face Nick and Darren. “Hello.”

  Eva stood as well. “Hi, guys. Peter’s on his way.”

  “Good.” Nick crossed the space between them and gave her a quick hug. “How are you?” he whispered in her ear.

  “Fine.” She wouldn’t admit how happy it made her that he didn’t act indifferent toward her. Adam had always done that at school. Granted, he was a teacher’s assistant and fraternization with students was strictly prohibited, but he’d gone out of his way to ignore her. It had hurt.

  Peter entered the lab. “What’s this about familial DNA?”

  Maddie motioned for everyone to sit. “A familial DNA search is a deliberate search for biological relatives of a contributor of evidence in samples.”

  Darren shook his head. “In plain English, please.”

  She grinned. “Okay, you all know that CODIS databases contain the DNA profiles of convicted criminals, reference samples of missing persons and sometimes samples from their biological relatives, and samples from unidentified human remains.” Maddie paced as she continued. “When we processed the DNA pulled at the scene, we came back with two separate, individual strands of DNA. One was a positive match to the victim, Gina Ford, the other was determined to be an unknown source.”

  “Right. With you so far.” Nick had a pencil and notebook in hand.

  Maddie smiled that he wasn’t arrogant that he felt he knew everything and couldn’t learn anything from her or anyone else. “So we ran the unknown sample we retrieved through CODIS, hoping to find a match with a sample already in CODIS. First on a local DNA index system, then a state, then national. None of these were a match on any level.”

  Eva stood and took over the explanation. “For there to be a hit, in other words, a match, the samples must both be clearly defined major components of a mixture with all thirteen locations noted.”

  Darren held up his hands. “You lost me again.”

  “Okay, you’ve seen the little model of DNA, right?” Eva pointed to the basic DNA strand poster on the locker. “That’s basically each living organism’s genetic instruction holder.”

  “I get that.”

  “The structure of all DNA comprises two helical chains each coiled round the same axis. That’s why it looks like a really cool diagram. What you’re really seeing is the double helix. Each person’s DNA is unique. Even identical twins have different DNA. Their strands would be close—meaning, similar, but they aren’t a complete and full match.”

  “Okay.”

  Maddie sat on the edge of her desk. “So there wasn’t a full match in CODIS, but there was one that was close. Not as similar as that would be of an identical twin, but close as in a biological relative.”

  “I’m not following.” Darren furrowed his brow.

  “Okay, let’s look at it this way. Savannah is your daughter. Everyone says she has your nose and mouth, but her mother’s eyes, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Which is true, because when a child is formed, that embryo takes some of its genetic markers from the mother and some from the father. Each child is different, because at the moment of conception, different markers are pulled. So, in your case, Savannah pulled some markers of facial structure from you and pulled some markers like eye color from her mother. All of this is done in the womb.”

  Darren nodded. “Okay. Got that.”

  Eva sat beside Maddie on her desk. “And since your daughter pulled markers from both you and her mother, her DNA strand would look similar to yours and her mother’s—the markers she inherited from you in the womb would be almost the same, but her DNA strand wouldn’t be identical to either of y’alls.”

  “Because she took some from me and some from her mother.”

  Maddie nodded. “Right. But if we ran your DNA profile beside Savannah’s, we’d see enough similarities that we’d know you were biologically related.”

  “Now I understand.” Darren grinned.

  Nick leaned back in his chair. “So, the sample you got from the back of Gina Ford’s shirt wasn’t a match to any of the profiles in CODIS, but it showed a potential match to a family member?”

  “Exactly.” Maddie smiled.

  “Can’t they just tell us who it is?”

  “Familial testing is new. Not every state has legislation that will allow for familial testing. Tennessee just recently got a statute on the books. There are very specific guidelines that must be followed to the letter before the test can be run.”

  “But it’s already in CODIS, right? They already know.”

  How to explain something so complex? “It’s not that easy. They said it’s a potential match to a biological relative. Meaning, there are so many markers that matched, but not enough for the system to give them all the information you want. For that, a familial test has to be run, and for that test to be executed, you have to fill out the proper forms.”

  Nick shrugged. “Okay, whatever. Let’s fill out the forms. Agent Zanca said we’d need Eva’s and your help and it needed to come from me, Helm,” he nodded at Peter, “and the DA. I talked to him today and he’ll sign whatever form. He’s got the mayor and governor breathing down his neck too.”

  “I called our Nashville unit and spoke to the CODIS operator. She faxed me the form they’re using.” Eva passed it to Nick. “Oh, and she wanted me to remind everyone the test is actually conducted with specialized, non-CODIS software specifically designed just for familial testing.”

  He glanced at the paper, then back to Maddie. “All it basically wants to know is if we received notification that a potential match was obtained from a properly executed CODIS search, if the case is open, and if we agree to follow the TBI’s investigative policies and procedures.” He read again. “Then it gives some instruction about technical stuff.”

  “That’s the part Eva and I will have to be responsible for.”

  “But you can do this, right?” Nick’s gaze nearly melted her.

  She sank back into her chair. “Yes, we can do this.”

  “How long will it take?”

  Maddie lifted a shoulder. “If you get your part filled out, it’ll take Eva and me a couple of hours to pull a sample to provide for the analysis. We’ll have to send it to our Nashville unit, since it’s the CODIS eligible lab. We’ll use a carrier, so it could be there for them to start first thing in the morning.”

  “And once they get it?” Nick moved beside her, so close she could smell his cologne. “How long will it take them once they get the sample?”

  Eva answered. “If they get it first thing in the morning, they should start working on it immediately. The actual science of it will take about six hours, give or take. While the forensic scientist in Nashville prepares the sample, your request will be processed by the TBI director here. Once he approves, as soon as the sample is ready, the test can be run.”

  “And that will take?” Nick stayed beside Maddie but listened carefully to Eva.

  “Since the operator in Nashville said the potential match was found on the state level, that will narrow the focus, so it should take about a day.”

  Nick pushed off the edge of Maddie’s desk. “If it gets there tomorrow and it takes pretty much a whole day to get it ready, then they could load it the next day, and they could get us the information by Friday afternoon, right?”

 
Eva nodded. “If the director approves the search.”

  Nick planted a quick kiss on Maddie’s cheek. “Then let’s do this.”

  Maddie couldn’t find her voice as Eva grinned at her while Peter scowled. It didn’t matter . . . Maddie felt as if she could burst with happiness.

  Who knew talking DNA could be so romantic?

  “Mr. Sloan, I’m Agent Hagar. These are Agents Timmons and Baxter.” Nick let Rafe and Darren sit. He chose to stand behind them, staring down at Conrad Sloan. “We’re glad you were able to come answer a few questions for us.” As he was grateful Memphis PD had allowed them to question Sloan. They stood by the two-way mirror, ready to take the collar if Sloan confessed.

  “Didn’t know I had a choice.” He sat in a classic defensive stance with his arms crossed over his chest and his chin jutted out.

  “Do you know who Mark Hubble is?” Might as well hit him sideways right out of the gate.

  Sloan’s eyes narrowed. “He’s the scumbag who attacked my sister.”

  Timmons leaned forward. “You’re angry he’s been released, aren’t you?”

  “Course. What kind of stupid question is that?”

  “Angry at the DNA specialist who testified at Mr. Hubble’s hearing that got him released?”

  “Course. She’s wrong. She put that scum out on the street so he can attack my sister or some other woman again.”

  “Do you know who she is, the DNA specialist?”

  Sloan looked down and to the left.

  Nick could feel the rage coming off Rafe. It was a very good thing he hadn’t seen Maddie last night when she was so exhausted and trembling. Nick didn’t know if he was strong enough to hold Rafe back from that anger.

  “Agent Hagar asked you a question.” Timmons rapped his knuckles against the table.

  Sloan jumped. “You ain’t got no right to threaten me. I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

  “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong.” Nick slammed his own hand on the table between Timmons and Rafe, then leaned forward. “Tell me her name. The DNA specialist whose testimony let Mark Hubble, the man who your sister said attacked her, walk out of jail free a little over two weeks ago.”