She focused on Lincoln. He was wearing a beautiful blue suit, white shirt, and purple tie today.
“Linc, I want AFIS set and ready. Number one priority is putting a name on this girl.”
AFIS, the Automated Fingerprint Identification System, would run the dead girl’s prints through the local fingerprint database. If there wasn’t a match, the prints would go into the huge national AFIS database.
“Will do.”
“If we get a hit, I want you to track down where she’s from so we can go check it out. Go through the whole drill. I want you to run everything through the computers. Go up to the Intelligence Unit, log into the ViCAP database. Upload our details, and check for any similar MOs.” ViCAP, the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program database maintained by the FBI, would look for any similar crimes that matched the description of their murder. “Cover the gamut. Look for killings with and without rapes, and unsolved violent rapes. And we have something unique to run through ViCAP. Check for herbs or dried flowers found at murder scenes.”
Eyebrows rose all around.
“Sam noticed a sweet smell coming off the body. She bagged a whole bunch of leaves and stems, though we don’t know what kind of herbs they are yet. We need to keep this real quiet until we know what’s going on, so Marcus, keep Franklin out of the loop, too. It may end up being nothing.”
“Or everything,” Lincoln chimed in.
“Or everything. So no leaks. No one outside this office knows about this but Sam. Keep it that way. There’s also DNA to plug in. I want you to search through the sexual offender database, too, see if someone’s done anything similar in any of the nearby jurisdictions. Check on the guys convicted of sexual crimes before, only on a smaller scale. Peeping Toms, our friendly flashers. Remember we had a rash of those last year in Bellevue? Pull any of the files that look good. Also, monitor the missing persons listings. If he’s snatched anyone else, we need to be ahead of the game. Any calls with young women missing, I want to hear immediately. Drag me out of whatever I’m doing.”
“Gotcha, boss. I already started running the missing persons list to see if anyone matching her description has popped up. So far, nothing, but I’ll keep looking.”
Lincoln’s deep, velvety smooth voice made Taylor take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. She gave him an appraising glance. He had the most beautiful skin she had ever seen, a shade somewhere between caramel and mocha latte. His straight nose led to sensually full lips. He was sensitive about the gap between his front two teeth. Taylor thought it only added to his charm.
“Lincoln, are you wearing another new suit? You’re going to go broke here soon.” Taylor loved to tease him about his obsession with clothes. He was always dressed impeccably, favoring Italian suits and couture ties. He bought his shoes from New York, beautifully worked leather that seemed to mold to his feet. He was single and spent all his money on his wardrobe.
“Well, I may have had a purchase arrive yesterday. Gotta keep looking sharp for the ladies.” He gave her a huge smile, and Taylor smiled back fondly. She privately thought he looked like Lenny Kravitz sans nose rings, and could easily understand his appeal to women of all ages and races. Maybe in another life...
“So if you’re done raggin’ on me... I’ve got ViCAP running already, but I’ll go plug the herb thing in. I’ve also pulled our open case files that have a sexual component, in case one looks remotely like this. I just want to see if this guy may have been working before. When Sam has a DNA sample, I’ll get together with the TBI and take a run through CODIS, see if there are any matches to the semen.”
All of the acronyms the Feds came up with amounted to alphabet soup as far as Taylor was concerned. It seemed every day the FBI or the law enforcement community came out with a new acronym for the tools they used. A new database, neoteric scientific tests, flowchart, and task forces—none were immune to the alphabet game. The standard joke was that the acronyms were formed before the official names so the higher-ups could make sure the nicknames “worked.” They got so busy digging through the bowl trying to see what they could put together they often fell in and drowned.
Taylor smiled at her crew in appreciation, and told them to scatter. “Rock and roll. Keep checking in with me. Fitz, let me run those files by you real quick.” She turned to her desk, then swung back. “Gentlemen? Let’s find this jerk. Now.”
7