She Who Watches (27 page)

“Not me,” Dana said. “He made the choice; he pays the price.

His drug abuse could have easily led to a fatal car crash. It happens much too often.”

With the driver arrested and awaiting transport, Mac and Dana merged onto the freeway and resumed their trek to the crime lab. He checked his cell phone and saw that he'd missed a call. Noting the eastern Oregon area code, he hit the redial button.Nate answered.

“Hey, Nate. What's up?”

“Just wanted to let you know that I interviewed everyone at the Warm Springs post office to cover our bases on that print we recovered on one of the second set of letters to Senator Wilde. No red flags. The background on the postal employee is squeaky clean, and he has no connections to Sara or her family. He isn't into politics and wasn't even sure who Senator Wilde was—says he doesn't care one way or the other about the casino. He's agreed to a polygraph. Thought I'd have him come in since we have the polygraph examiner coming to do Therman. Thought we might do Therman's wife while we're at it.”

“So Therman agreed to the polygraph?”

“Yeah. You didn't know? I talked to Sergeant Bledsoe earlier today, and he set it up.”

“He'll probably give us the news when we get back. Dana and I have been in Salem interviewing Senator Wilde.”

“How'd that go?”

Mac gave him a brief overview and asked him to look up Margaret Case's grandson, Aaron Galbraith, and hopefully get a set of prints to match with any that might have come up on Sara's cabinet. “Try to get him to agree to a poly too.” After making plans to connect the next day, he ended the call.

“Nate's been busy.” Mac stuffed his phone in his jacket pocket and repeated the message.

“So the polygrapher is giving how many exams on the reservation?”

“Three, maybe four: the postal employee whose latents were on the letter, Therman, and Therman's wife. Maybe Aaron Galbraith, too.” Mac adjusted his rearview mirror. “With all this cooperation, I'm beginning to wonder if there's a connection at the reservation at all.”

“Have you had a chance to read through the results of the polygraphs the feds did?”

Mac shook his head. “Did you?”

Dana reached into the backseat and brought up her briefcase. “I started to, but my eyes were getting blurry.”

“Do we have the actual test results from the polygraphs—the narrative from the polygrapher?”

Dana took out the files and thumbed through them. Pulling one out, she said, “Here's Scott's. According to the FBI examiner, there were some hitches, but the inconclusiveness comes from medications Scott was taking.”

“What kind of meds?” Mac asked.

“He was taking antidepressants at the time.”

“Great. Those things can interfere with the testing.” He'd learned that much on his first homicide.

“The report says he started taking the prescription drugs after Sara went missing. Some of those medications can be pretty addictive. Sure hope he doesn't end up using them as a crutch forever.”

“Why the concern?” Mac glanced over at her.

She tossed him a wry smile. “I want him drug free so we can run another polygraph on him.”

“Good thinking. We'll have a look at the results again after one of our OSP polygraphers reviews the charts. I want someone we know to give the FBI polygraph charts a glance. Not all of the polygraphers are as good as our OSP guys. Anyway, the polygraphs aren't all that valuable unless you can score a confession out of a suspect who thinks the machine actually works. We've had plenty of innocent people get ‘deceptive' results.”

“I still haven't seen anything about the prints captured at the scene.”

“Hopefully the lab will have faxed them over.” Mac pulled into a parking slot marked Police Only in front of the Justice Center in downtown Portland. It was two o'clock when they made their way up to the crime lab on the twelfth floor. Dana had tried calling while they'd been stuck in traffic to see what Angela had for them, but she was in a clean room and couldn't accept the call. The contaminant-free room was where the scientist performed her DNA work.

The receptionist asked them to wait in the reception area for Angela. While they were waiting, Kevin came in. “Glad to see you made it. I heard about the accident.”

“What's up, Sarge?” Mac asked.

“I'm assuming you got my page. Did Angela tell you what she had?”

“No, but I figure it's something good if she wanted us down here.” Mac looked at his watch. They had a lot to do, and a phone call would have been nice. But Angela liked handing off important finds in person.

“She probably has a suspect for you. I'm guessing she's recovered some DNA from the post or some of the other trace evidence you two submitted.” Kevin sounded excited, and Mac couldn't help but absorb some of it.

“Did she tell you that?” Dana asked. “Who is it?”

“I have no idea. Her message was on my voice mail. She wanted someone connected to the Watson case down here right away. I sent you the page but couldn't respond myself. I had to be present on an arraignment for Trooper Revman's killer. I knew you were either in Salem or on the road, so I got here as soon as I could.” He sat down and rubbed his hands together. “I know you two can handle this just fine, but since I'm here . . .”

“Might as well stay,” Mac finished for him. While they waited, Mac and Dana filled him in on their visit with the senator. “The senator was great, but for a while there, I was afraid we weren't going to get to see him at all.”

“Why's that?” Kevin asked.

“His aide, Grant Stokely, came out to greet us with a long list of restrictions.”

Dana smiled. “And Mac told him exactly what he could do with them.”

“Oh, yeah? Even after my lecture on diplomacy.”

“You would have done the same thing, boss,” Mac said. “I told him very politely that if he planned to obstruct justice I'd have to arrest him, or at least make him think I would.”

“Stokely was furious,” Dana said, “but a few minutes later he came out to get us and looked like a puppy with his tail tucked between his legs.”

Kevin chuckled. “I'd like to have been there.”

Mac leaned forward, pressing his elbows into his knees. “Like I was saying, the senator couldn't have been nicer. That assistant of his is something else. He may just be a royal pain, but I'm planning to take a long, hard look at the guy. I wouldn't be surprised if he tries to get us fired. Me, anyway. I don't see why the senator keeps him around.”

“Don't worry, Mac.” Kevin slapped the back of Mac's shoulder.

“Sounds like you did fine.”

Angela came out to greet them wearing a white lab coat, her hair still neatly tucked under a white cap. “Sorry for the delay. Come on back to the conference room.”

Angela had her business face on, and Mac knew she had something good for them. Even though Angela was a scientist, she was still a State Police employee and had the same love for catching the bad guys as the detectives and the troopers working the road. Mac had a hunch that this passion kept highly skilled scientists like Angela from seeking higher-paying jobs in the private sector. She led the investigators to the conference room and then excused herself for a moment to remove her lab attire.

She returned in a few minutes dressed in a suit and slapped a file folder on the table. “Thanks for coming down. I have a strong suspect for you in the Sara Watson murder.” She pushed the folder over toward Mac.

“Really?” He opened the folder, pulling out a digital photograph and other documents. “Who is this guy?”

“Owen Sinnott.” Angela took a seat next to Dana.

Dana leaned closer for a look, and Mac moved the folder over for her. “How'd you hook him?”

“You know that fingernail you found in the dirt?” Angela asked.

Dana beamed. “It
was
a fingernail. I knew it.”

“That's the one. Did you get DNA from the nail?”

“I sure did. I couldn't extract DNA from the fingernail itself, though I think we can make a circumstantial case that the clipping is from our victim. What is truly amazing is that I found a skin sample on the bottom half of the nail clipping. DNA linked to Mr. Owen Sinnott.”

“How do we know it was him?” Mac asked. “I mean, where'd you get the control sample to compare it to?”

“I didn't. You guys did,” Angela reached for the file folder, pulling a criminal history sheet from the stack. “At least law enforcement did, not you guys personally.” She pointed at a line on his record.

“He was arrested for Rape First Degree back in 1999.” Mac's gaze slid from Dana to Kevin. “He's a registered sex offender.”

Angela grinned. “This means we had his court-required DNA sample in our database. Once I recovered the DNA standard from the nail, it took me a day to type the standard. After that, I began comparing to the standards you brought in for comparison but struck out. This morning, I ran it through our statewide database computer for a standard check, and bingo! Owen Sinnott popped up.”

“This guy's a pretty bad dude, Sarge.” Mac continued to read the criminal history sheet. “Assault, sex offenses, dope charges—he's a real career criminal.”

“Is this conclusive, Angela, or just an RFLP test?” Kevin began looking over the file Mac handed him.

“A what?” Dana asked.

Angela smiled. “The RFLP is a DNA test for Restriction Fragment Length Polymorphism.”

Dana grinned. “Whatever you say.”

“That's what I was working on after I called you. We are good to go; the test is conclusive now. One in twelve billion odds, he's our guy. Since he doesn't appear to be the kind of person she'd be giving a back scratch to, one can assume she retained the sample under her nail during a defensive act. Of course, that's an educated guess. It's up to you guys to find out what the link is. All I can tell you is that his DNA is under our victim's fingernail.”

“If it really is our victim's nail.” Dana frowned. “I don't like the circumstantial part of this. Why can't you do a DNA on the nail itself?”

“The fingernail is like hair, bone, and teeth—I can't extract DNA from them unless I have the component that contains the sample. In hair, it's the follicle; the bone is the marrow; and in teeth, it's the root. If you had found the end of the nail that was connected to tissue, that would be a winner; but I'm afraid the end of the fingernail is a dry well for me. Sorry.”

“He lives in Gresham.” Kevin handed the sex offender registration readout back to Dana. “At least that's the address listed here.”

In Oregon, convicted sex offenders must register with the State Police. In addition to providing a DNA sample for future comparisons, they had to notify the OSP whenever they changed addresses, jobs, or automobiles. Their addresses, registered vehicles, and work locations were all kept in a statewide database. The program had been invaluable for detectives working cold cases or stranger-to-stranger cases. And it looked like that's what Sara's case was after all.

“Either of you recognize his name?”

Neither had. Mac and Dana had recently worked on the list, but Sinnott's name never came up. His listed address was nowhere near the victim's residence, so he was outside their range of interest.

Angela continued, “Was there anything else to link him to Sara's murder? Fingerprints at the scene, maybe?”

“Sorry. That's it. We lifted a lot of prints during the initial visit to the house. All of them are accounted for with family and friends. By the way, Dana, I did get your message and faxed the reports back. They should be waiting for you at the office.”

“Thanks. Did the feds have a copy? I couldn't find anything in the files they gave us.”

“As far as I know.” Angela pursed her lips. “Like I said, there were no prints other than family and friends, so they may not have felt the need to include it.”

“Says here he's a general laborer,” Mac said. “There's no actual address for employment, so that's another reason we wouldn't have hit on his work location for our sex offender roundup.” Dana read from the form. “He has a 1979 Buick LeSabre as his listed vehicle; not much more information here.”

“Enough to get started,” Kevin said. “You two get on the residence, and I'll get SWAT tuned up for a callout. You better use the undercover van at the office; the keys are on my desk. I'll get Philly and Russ on the horn after they're done with court. They can help out on the warrant for the house if you can get me a description when you get out there. Don't try any heroics, kids. If the house can be watched, then fine. If not, c'mon back, and we'll try it when we have everything in order.”

“Got it.” Mac sighed. Adrenaline pumping, he nearly tripped on the leg of the chair as he stood up and started to leave.

“Why the SWAT team?” Dana asked. “Can't Mac and I just go arrest him?”

“Too dangerous with a predator like Sinnott,” Kevin said. “We'll be following our risk protocol to the letter on this one, Dana. I know we've gone in like cowboys in the past, but I like to play by the book. With this guy's criminal history and his recent conduct, I want the SWAT team in my hip pocket. I'd rather send them home than wait three hours for guys to arrive from all over the state if we need them in a pinch.”

“What if he's not there? Isn't that a wasted effort?”

“It's not uncommon for us to kick the door on an empty house. The warrant allows us to do that and to search the place. If he's not home, we go find him.”

“You ready, Dana?” Mac asked.

“Let's go.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

M
ac parked his car and jogged into the OSP office with Dana to grab any gear they would need to work surveillance. He found the keys to the undercover van—a newer tan Dodge, complete with a fixed camera and video system. More importantly for long surveillances, it had a bathroom, a feature that really came in handy when you were sitting in a vehicle for hours on end.