CHAPTER 10
The sectional wasn’t as comfortable as Brooke remembered, and she flailed around most of the night. Just before dawn, she gave up and shuffled into the kitchen, where she poked through some cabinets until she found a mug and the pods for the fancy coffeemaker.
After a brief conversation with Owen last night about her unwanted intruder, Brooke had tried to wind down with some channel surfing. But nothing could calm her nerves, especially when her brother’s words kept playing through her head:
I always knew I didn’t like that guy.
Evidently, Owen’s dislike had intensified last Thanksgiving when Brooke had skipped out on dinner with her family because Matt didn’t want to deal with “the whole Thanksgiving scene.” Brooke had acquiesced. It was the first of many occasions when Matt had pressured her to spend time with him alone instead of with her family or friends.
Why had it taken her so long to see those incidents for what they were? He’d been trying to isolate her from people who cared about her, and she’d allowed it to happen. The whole thing made her feel guilt toward her family and also disgust with herself.
“Hey there.”
She jumped and turned around.
Lin smiled at her. “Sorry to scare you.”
“I didn’t hear you come down. Did I wake you?”
“No, I’m an early riser.” Lin took a stool at the granite island. “Unlike Owen and Chico, who can stay sacked out till noon.”
“You want some coffee?”
“Not yet, thanks.”
Brooke dropped a pod into the coffeemaker and fetched some cream from the mammoth refrigerator. She liked to tease Owen about his kitchen, which was outfitted with top-of-the-line appliances even though he barely knew how to make a sandwich.
“So, give me the gossip. What’s up with you and the cop?”
Brooke glanced at Lin. “How’d you know he’s a cop?”
“I knew it!”
Brooke tried to pin down what Sean might have said or done last night to give himself away. He hadn’t been wearing a badge. He’d been armed, as always, but she doubted Lin had had a chance to notice the bulge under his jacket during their brief meeting in the dim foyer.
“It was the eyes.”
The coffee finished brewing and Brooke collected it from the machine. She took a stool beside Lin’s. “The eyes?”
“Uh-huh. I dated a cop before I met Owen. They’re a hyperobservant bunch.”
Hyperobservant. Sean definitely fit that description.
“He noticed everything,” Lin said. “It used to drive me crazy.”
Brooke sipped her coffee and watched the woman she hoped would one day become her sister-in-law. She couldn’t picture Lin with someone in law enforcement. “What happened with him?”
“It was fun. Brief, though.” Lin shrugged. “We were never a fit, really. And then I met Owen and—” She gave a wistful sigh. “The first time he talked to me it was just . . . magic.”
Wow, magic? Owen?
Lin laughed. “You should see the look on your face. You didn’t know your brother was a girl magnet?”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
“So, back to the cop. Are you two serious?”
“No.”
Lin pulled back. “Alrighty then.”
“We’re not dating. Last night was random. We’re really just friends.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
Lin shrugged. “That’s not the impression I got.”
Brooke watched her as she took a sip. Lin was a clinical psychologist—potentially another PhD in the family—and Brooke was curious to get her take on things. But she had to be careful because anything she revealed could ultimately get back to Owen.
“The thing is, Matt and I just broke up, so the timing’s all wrong.”
“That was, what? Three months ago?”
“Four, actually. But that relationship started right after things ended with me and someone else, and that was part of the problem, I think. I rushed into something new when I should have given myself some time.”
“So, now you want some breathing room.”
“Exactly,” Brooke said. “I don’t want to do that all over again. I don’t want to repeat the whole cycle.”
“What cycle?”
“My cycle. The thing I keep doing. Everything starts out great, and then I wake up one day about a year in, and everything’s all a mess, and I wonder, ‘How the hell did I end up with this guy who’s all wrong for me?’ ”
Lin watched Brooke carefully, probably analyzing every word and no doubt diagnosing something dysfunctional about Brooke’s MO with men.
Lin tipped her head to the side. “So, do you believe Sean’s all wrong for you?”
The question surprised Brooke. “No. I mean . . . I don’t know, really. He’s just . . .”
Sean was different. He was strong without being overbearing. And he respected her space. But he also seemed determined to wait her out, even though she’d told him this thing between them wasn’t going anywhere.
Maybe I like where it’s going.
Brooke didn’t know if she believed that, not when he got that hungry look in his eyes, that look that made her insides all warm and fluttery.
He seemed resolved to wait, as though he knew that she’d ultimately change her mind. She should be annoyed, but instead she felt anxious.
What if he was right? What if he hung around long enough and she caved in to this burning attraction between them?
Then, once again, she would have taken no time to stand on her own before plunging into something new. She didn’t want to do that this time. She wanted to prove to herself that she didn’t require a man in her life. She didn’t need rings and picket fences and all that other stuff her friends had. She was fine on her own.
“Well?” Lin prompted. “He’s just . . . ?”
“He’s different. At least, I think he is. We don’t know each other all that well.”
“He wants to change that, I’m guessing.”
“The thing is, the timing’s not right.” And that was putting it mildly. Up until recently she’d thought Matt might finally be moving on, but now she knew he wasn’t. She thought of the beer bottle and had to stifle a shudder. That was so his style, sneaking into her house just to prove he could rattle her. The whole thing was a power trip.
She didn’t want to think what he’d do if he thought she had a new boyfriend. That would make a bad situation worse.
Brooke shook her head. “I don’t really want to get into anything right now. It would be a big mess.”
“What’s a big mess?”
They turned around to see Owen standing in the doorway looking groggy and disheveled.
“My love life,” Brooke said.
Her brother winced. “Do I need to hear this?”
“No.”
“At least tell me it doesn’t involve Matt.”
“It doesn’t. I told you, we’re over.”
He shuffled to the fridge and grabbed a jug of orange juice. “Does it involve Sean from last night?”
“No. It doesn’t involve anyone. I’m officially single. In fact, I’m thinking about joining a convent.”
“Good. Music to my ears.”
• • •
Sean figured he’d be the only detective working Sunday morning, but Callie’s personal vehicle was in the lot behind the station house. He parked beside it and found her at her desk in the bull pen, staring at her computer.
“What brings you in on a Sunday?” Sean asked.
She leaned back in her chair. “Same as you. This case is a bitch. I hardly slept last night.”
Sean had had the same problem, but his lack of sleep had more to do with Brooke. “I went by the doughnut place.”
“Yeah, me too. No sign of the redheaded kid.” She sighed. “I’m beginning to wonder if this mystery witness really exists.”
“You better hope he exists. He’s our only lead. Jared Doppler’s girlfriend was in for an interview yesterday, and she backs his alibi.”
“Yeah, and how firm is she?”
“I’d say firm.”
“Damn. I really wanted to nail that guy.”
Sean sat on the edge of her desk and folded his arms over his chest. “So, Callie. You know some of Brooke’s friends at the Delphi Center, don’t you?”
Callie looked instantly suspicious. “I know Alex and Maddie. Why?”
“Brooke’s ex-boyfriend is hassling her, and I need to get the dope on him.”
Callie frowned. “Hassling her how?”
“He was in her house last night while she was gone. It freaked her out a little.”
“That would freak me out more than a little. Who the hell is he?”
“That’s what I don’t know. She won’t talk about him with me.”
“She probably figures you’ll break out your badge and go bust the guy’s chops.”
“Hey. Would I do that?”
“Absolutely. Why don’t you admit you have it bad for this girl?”
“Fine, whatever. Will you get me a name?”
“What, you mean hit up some women I barely know for gossip about another woman I barely know? Because, you know, being female and all, I’m into that?”
Sean just looked at her.
“Why don’t you get Ric to help you? His wife works at Delphi. She might know Brooke.”
“I’m planning to ask him, too, but I want to see what you can find out.”
Callie rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll do it. But you owe me, Byrne. Again. You’re racking up a lot of debt.”
“I know.” He paused. “In the meantime, what’s new with the case? You hear anything on the knife?”
“Not yet.” She checked her phone. “Their knife expert is supposed to call me once he’s had a chance to look at it. You know Travis Cullen?”
“No.”
“He’s probably off this weekend, like most normal people, so I’m not expecting to hear anything until tomorrow at the earliest.”
Sean’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket. “Ric,” he told Callie as he answered the call. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Can you meet me at the station house? It’s important.”
“I’m here now. Why?”
“We need a team meeting. Mia just called me from the lab.”
Sean’s pulse kicked up. “What is it?”
“She finished running those DNA tests from Samantha Bonner. We have a hit.”
• • •
Callie watched as Ric’s wife blew into the conference room.
“Sorry, I’m late.” Mia dropped a computer bag on the table. Her cheeks were flushed and her strawberry blond hair looked windblown. She pulled off an oversize barn jacket and draped it over a chair as she glanced around.
“Everyone’s here but Lieutenant Reynolds,” Ric said, claiming the seat beside her.
“You guys can brief him.” Mia checked her watch. “I have to pick up the baby from my sister’s in an hour.”
Callie watched as Mia set up her computer, impressed by the woman and also envious. Mia somehow managed to juggle the top job at the Delphi Center’s DNA lab, marriage to one of the best men Callie knew, and now motherhood. And she didn’t even look tired.
Well, maybe a little tired. She took a gulp from a Venti-size coffee before settling in for her presentation.
“All of you probably know that the pathologist sent over some items from the autopsy. The victim’s bloody clothing, and also the rape kit, which included nail clippings.” Mia looked around the room. “The rape kit was negative for semen. And we swabbed all the clothing, but didn’t come up with any blood that wasn’t the victim’s. The nail clippings, however, yielded a lead.” She took a deep breath. “We recovered biological material not belonging to Samantha Bonner.”
“She clawed him,” Sean said.
“That’s what it looks like.”
Mia tapped some keys on her computer, and the black and white bands of a DNA profile appeared on the screen behind her.
“I thought the ME said there were no defensive injuries,” Callie said. “That she didn’t have time to fight back.”
“She didn’t sustain defensive injuries, such as scratches or parry wounds, but that’s not to say she didn’t cause any injuries. Based on what we found, I’d say she managed to get a few good swipes in.”
“So you found blood under her nails?” Sean asked.
“And skin cells, yes. We ran the sample through the database and came up with a partial hit.”
Callie leaned forward. “Partial?”
“That’s right. Have you heard of familial DNA? There have been several high-profile cases. The Grim Sleeper case in LA, for example.”
“How exactly does it work?” Callie asked.
“I should probably start by clarifying a few things about how we run DNA. Basically, when we analyze genetic material, we can’t look at the entire chromosome. That would take too much time. Instead, we look at certain genetic markers where people’s DNA is highly variable. You follow?” Mia glanced around the table. Then she turned to face the image on the screen.
“The DNA from under Samantha Bonner’s fingernails shares eight of thirteen key markers with a DNA profile that is already in the database. In other words, it’s a partial match.”
“So, it’s not the killer,” Sean said, “but someone related to him.”
“Most likely, yes. Based on the level of similarity between these two profiles, I believe you’re looking for a close relative. A son, an uncle. Possibly a cousin.”
Sean whistled. “Damn, that’s a good lead.”
“I contacted the submitting agency on this,” Ric said.
“Who is it?” Callie asked.
“Austin PD. The profile in the database belongs to a James Ryan Mahoney, age twenty-seven.” Ric slid a piece of paper across the table to her. “He was convicted of aggravated assault up in Austin three years ago.”
Beside her, Jasper opened up his laptop computer and started typing.
“He serve time?” Sean asked.
“Two years,” Ric said.
“According to this, he now lives in Kyle, Texas, right north of here,” Jasper chimed in, reading from his computer screen.
“Interesting coincidence,” Sean said. “Are you sure he’s not our guy?”
“Absolutely.” Mia gave a firm nod. “And it’s not necessarily a coincidence if you consider that James Mahoney might be from around here, so some of his family members probably live locally.”
“And do we know for sure that this DNA profile belongs to a male relative of the guy who’s in the system?” Callie asked.
“That’s right. This profile includes a Y chromosome.”
“According to DPS records, we’ve got . . . damn, nineteen Mahoneys in this county alone.” Jasper glanced up.
“Narrow it to males,” Callie said.
Jasper refined the search as Callie looked on. “Okay, ten males. And that’s just registered drivers in this county. What if we expand it to neighboring counties?”
“And what if his name isn’t Mahoney?” Callie looked at Mia. “You said it could be a cousin, right? So if bloodline runs through the mother, then the perp may have a different last name.”
“That’s entirely possible.”
“Hey, check this out. One of these Mahoneys used to share an address with James Ryan Mahoney. I bet they’re brothers.”
Sean sat forward. “What’s his name?”
“Bradley John Mahoney. Age twenty-nine.”
“Any criminal record on him?”
Jasper pecked around for a few moments. “Looks like . . . nothing.”
“Nothing at all?” Sean asked.
“Not even a traffic ticket.”
“Damn.”
Callie sat back in her chair, both discouraged and intrigued. If this Bradley Mahoney was their guy, she would have expected a criminal record. Most people didn’t go from being law-abiding citizens to committing murder. But at least they had a suspect now. And possibly additional suspects, if they could trace more of the ex-con’s male relatives.
“This is a great lead, Mia,” Sean said.
“Yeah, and we appreciate you working this on a Sunday,” Callie added.
“No problem.” Mia checked her watch. “One other thing before I go. Familial DNA is a gray area from a legal perspective. A lot of courts aren’t allowing it in. So, you need to watch your step in terms of how you use this.”
“How do you mean?” Jasper asked.
“I mean, I can tell you with confidence that you have a partial match here. I corroborated my findings with a colleague. But I’m also obligated to tell you that you should run this by the prosecutor before you move forward.”
“Why?” Sean asked.
“This area of the law is controversial. A lot of civil-liberties people and privacy advocates aren’t happy about how this technology is being used by police, and they’re making noise about it. Fourth Amendment issues, unreasonable search and seizure, that sort of thing.”
“The DNA profiles are in the database for a reason,” Sean countered. “These are people who have been arrested or convicted of a crime.”
“Yes, but using those profiles to shine a spotlight on relatives who may or may not have done anything criminal . . . that’s a whole other matter. It’s dicey, and I’m sure the DA is going to have some opinions on how to proceed.” Mia checked her watch and closed her computer. “I’m sorry, but I have to take off. If you guys have any more questions . . .” She looked at Ric.
“We know where to find you.”
• • •
Sean watched Mia leave. Then he turned to Ric. “We need eyes on this guy ASAP.”
Ric nodded. “He may not be the killer, though.”
“If he isn’t, he’s related.”
“Wait, hold on.” Callie leaned forward. “Did you hear what Mia said? We have to contact the prosecutor. If we play this thing wrong, we could botch up the case.”
“That was your takeaway?” Sean shook his head in frustration. “Mia just handed us the best lead we’ve had so far. This isn’t some phantom witness or a vanishing fingerprint. We’re talking about actual DNA found under the victim’s fingernails from when she tried to fight off her killer. Far as physical evidence goes, it’s a slam dunk.”
“Maybe so, but using it to target a suspect isn’t a slam dunk.” Callie looked from Sean to Ric. “You want to screw up a court case? We can’t just rush out and start arresting people named Mahoney. I mean, what if we’re wrong? At the very least, we get ourselves in a bunch of legal trouble. And we could end up tipping off the real perpetrator that we’re onto him.”
“I’m not about to start arresting people.” Sean pushed his chair back. “But I’m also not going to sit around waiting for some lawyer to give me permission to do my job.”