The Cutting

Unfortunately, the man was only five foot ten, not the six foot plus seen in the surveillance tape and later corroborated by Tobin Kenney. Reviewing the video, McCabe knew there was no way that this man would have been strong enough to carry Katie’s body to where she was dumped.

The hunt for Lucinda Cassidy hadn’t gone much better. Searches organized in ever widening circles from an epicenter in Portland turned up no leads. Divers explored the waters of Portland harbor and found nothing. Advanced mapping techniques used successfully by Maine Forest Service rangers to find the body of a murdered girl a few years earlier were tried again. This time they failed to produce results. Bill Bacon and Will Messing were running out of places to look.

Perhaps the most promising development came in a report from the state lab in Augusta, which said that Lucinda Cassidy’s dog, Fritz, had definitely bitten her attacker and that traces of human blood and hair were found in his mouth. Both samples had undergone DNA analysis, and the results were in. Unfortunately, there was no suspect DNA available to check for a match.

Finally, around six o’clock, McCabe called Burt Lund to find out if Judge Washburn had returned and if Lund had had any luck setting up a meeting with her.

‘She just got back,’ Lund told him. ‘Meet me in her chambers in ten minutes.’

Before leaving, McCabe gathered the exhausted cops in the detectives’ conference room. First he encouraged them all to keep their spirits up and to keep going. He told them every suspect eliminated brought them one step closer to success. Looking into their tired faces, he knew they’d heard it all before. He considered telling them about the note in his mailbox, about the meeting set for tonight with the possible witness, but he was afraid to risk a leak either to the press or to Shockley’s office. However, he did mention he was on his way to ask a judge for a warrant to search Spencer’s car and home. Then he told them to go home and get some rest. Start fresh in the morning.

Judge Paula Washburn’s chambers were on the second floor of the Cumberland County Courthouse on Federal Street, less than a five-minute walk from police headquarters. McCabe and Lund were admitted immediately. Washburn was a tall, extremely thin woman with cropped gray hair. She didn’t bother with the formality of a greeting, though she did ask them to sit.

‘Well, gentlemen, what do we have that’s so all-fired urgent it just couldn’t wait another minute?’ she asked.

‘A request for a search warrant in the Dubois case,’ said Lund. He handed her McCabe’s affidavit.

She took several minutes to read it silently. ‘Well, isn’t this interesting,’ she said finally, peering up at him over the tiny reading glasses perched on her long nose. ‘I hope this isn’t a fishing expedition, Sergeant McCabe. If so, you’re going after a pretty big fish.’

‘No, Your Honor, it isn’t. I believe we have sufficient reason to investigate Dr. Spencer further.’

‘There are other doctors with green Lexus SUVs.’

‘There are, but so far, at least, Spencer is the only one who is physically similar both to the person seen in the video and the man described by the soccer coach.’

She asked several questions about the reliability of Starbucks’s video enhancement and Tobin Kenney’s memory. McCabe answered them as best he could. Judge Washburn nodded, considering his responses. Then she asked, ‘Is Dr. Spencer aware that he’s about to become a suspect in a murder case?’

‘I think he may have an inkling. He called Chief Shockley and complained about my questioning his wife.’

‘Does Shockley know you’re seeking this warrant?’

‘No.’

‘You realize, of course, he’s going to be less than pleased.’

‘I do.’

‘And you’re not bothered?’

‘I’m not.’

‘Are there any other considerations I should be aware of?’

‘Yes,’ said Lund. ‘Ordinarily, Your Honor, we might wait a little longer, amass a little more evidence, before seeking this warrant. In this case we’re rushing it a bit because there may be another life at stake.’

‘The woman who disappeared?’

‘Yes, Your Honor.’

‘Very well, Mr. Lund, I’m going to grant this request, though I do wish you had some evidence that was slightly more compelling. I’m doing so in the belief that I would have no hesitiation issuing a warrant if the suspect were less prominent in the community. However, I do hope this is not going to backfire in all our faces.’

‘Yes, Your Honor. I hope not as well. Thank you.’

Washburn signed the warrant and handed it back, and Lund and McCabe left the judge’s chambers.

He called Maggie’s cell from the sidewalk. ‘Let me buy you a beer.’

‘No can do. I’ve got company coming. I’m at home in the middle of cooking dinner.’

‘It’s important.’

‘Okay. Why don’t you come over here? You talk. I’ll cook.’

Maggie had a small two-bedroom on Vesper Street only a couple of blocks from McCabe’s own place on the Prom.

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