“That was two years ago.”
“I know. I have a weird thing with coffee.”
“Impressive. Thank you.”
“Thank you for taking time on a Sunday morning, especially over a holiday weekend. And sorry to text you like a lunatic in the middle of the night. I was in a weird place.”
“No worries. I was up. I’m on call this weekend, and bored to death. The Fourth is a notoriously slow time at the morgue. No one really dies when the city is so empty, which sounds like a good thing unless your life revolves around people dying. Besides, some of our strangest thoughts and ideas come in the middle of the night. I’m curious to know what’s on your mind.”
Avery was curious, as well. A revelation had come to her, and she needed Dr. Cutty to confirm it.
“Let’s head inside,” Livia said.
Avery followed Livia through the front entrance of the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner. It was Sunday morning and the building was dark, other than the scattered overhead lights that remained permanently aglow. Livia touched her ID card to the sensor in the lobby to unlock the door. Inside, they rode the elevator to the bottom floor where Livia again scanned her card key to gain access to the long corridor that led to her office. She flicked the wall switch when she walked into the windowless office.
“Have a seat,” Livia said. “So what did you find out about Victoria Ford that had you up so late at night?”
Avery sat in one of the chairs in front of the gunmetal desk. She pulled a single page from her purse and handed it to Livia. She had taken it from the Cameron Young file before sneaking out of Walt’s room earlier. It was the crime lab’s analysis of the DNA found at the crime scene.
“It turns out Victoria Ford was involved in a high-profile murder investigation in the months before she died. My story about her has taken an unexpected turn from her remains being identified to the details about the homicide investigation. I need some help with some specifics about it.”
“The woman identified was a suspect in a murder?” Livia said.
“She was. And I’ve managed to hook up with . . .” Avery stopped herself and shook her head. “. . . To get in touch with the detective who ran the investigation. We’ve been reviewing the evidence and I’m having trouble with the blood that was found at the crime scene.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“Well, I’m stuck on it. I’m working hard to figure out if there’s another explanation of the crime scene. If there’s any chance things happened differently than how the prosecution presented them. My biggest issue is that droplets of blood recovered from the scene were matched to Victoria Ford through DNA analysis. I need to know how accurate the science is that made that match.”
“Very,” Livia said. “A specific DNA sequence is sequestered from the blood and then, in a normal investigation, matched against DNA samples taken from the suspect—usually through an oral swab. If the DNA profiles match, it’s as accurate as it gets. Statistically, the science is just about one hundred percent.”
Avery slowly nodded her head as she considered Livia’s words. The fact was that the blood at the crime scene belonged to Victoria. This would be the biggest problem with the theory that someone else had killed Cameron Young, and she could see no way around it.
“The science likely came out at trial,” Livia said. “DNA evidence and the science behind it are challenged when it’s done badly or if there is even a chance that it’s less accurate than normal. If the blood had been contaminated, for instance. Or, if it was not preserved correctly. Was any of the DNA evidence challenged at trial?”
“That’s just it,” Avery said. “The case never went to trial.”
“Why not?”
“Because the chaos of September eleventh marked the unofficial end of the case.”
“So the investigation was closed?”
“Not formally. It just sort of went away because after 9/11 the main suspect was dead and the case was not pursued. America started chasing terrorists.”
Avery’s mind returned again to the previous day when she skimmed through Victoria’s lost manuscripts. Finally, she looked at Livia.
“The other thing I texted you about,” Avery said. “Were you able to find anything out about it?”
“Yes,” Livia said. “I called Arthur Trudeau earlier this morning and he told me where to look. It’s in the bone-processing lab. Grab your coffee.”
Avery followed Livia through the dark hallways until they came to the lab. Livia swiped her card key and the red light on the lock turned green as she opened the door. She flicked on the lights and headed toward a bank of computers lining the far wall. The monitors were dark until Livia sat down at one of the stations and jiggled the mouse. The computer screen woke and brightened with the OCME logo. She logged in and clicked through the screens.
“The identification of Victoria Ford was made on May eighth. It’ll take me a second to get back there.”
Avery stood next to Livia as she scrolled through the screens.
“Okay,” Livia said. “Here we go.”
Avery bent over Livia’s shoulder and scanned the screen.
“It looks like the specimen was collected from North Tower debris on September twenty-second of 2001.”
“Does it tell you more about the original specimen?” Avery asked.
“I’m looking. Let’s see . . .”
A few more screens clicked past and then some more scrolling.
“Yes. Here are the original notes on the specimen. Small fragment measuring just three quarters of an inch long and badly charred at the time of recovery.”
“That’s tiny,” Avery said.