Katie took in everything, but remained quiet.
John moved to another group of photos of what looked like strings. “Here are the threads you recovered. They are cotton-wrapped poly core. The poly core allows them to be strong and withstand wear and washing. They are dyed the typical indigo that produces the blue color and it bonds well with cotton fiber. It would be almost impossible to find its origin and when it was manufactured.”
“So like a needle in a haystack to try and match to anything else—due to the high popularity of blue jeans,” said McGaven.
Katie was listening, but she was still thinking about the trap mechanisms and installation. She wanted to figure out if it had been installed before any construction work, during, or after.
“Here are the bracelets: each with half a heart so that the two make a whole. These were very popular about ten years ago. They still sell them now, but on a more highly manufactured level and not necessarily sterling silver.”
“Anything stand out about them?” she said.
“I did find a hallmark stamped near the clasp. It read .925, which simply means they are sterling silver. Normally, this would mean there would be millions out there. But…” He went to another photo. “I found this TM*on each bracelet. They aren’t identical, which means they were done freehand. It’s a bit unusual for basic jewelry design.”
“Is that the artist’s signature?” Katie said.
“I believe it is. I tried to search for artists that use this TM* but nothing came back. I can keep searching various databases.”
“We can check some jewelers that have been around for a while and see what we come up with,” she said. “I know the one down by Main Street has been around for twenty years.”
“You might want to ask about the silver money clip that was found in Ian Griffin’s pocket too. I found the same artist’s stamp on it.”
McGaven nodded and made a notation. Katie hoped it might be a clue as to where the jewelry was purchased and who bought them. Sometimes the smallest details could produce a big lead.
“We also did a footprint impression of those boot prints you found in the forest near the crime scene area.”
Katie moved closer to the screen.
“We were able—actually, Eva was able—to find out more about the boot from the impression. It is a size eleven and had a leather sole instead of rubber. You can tell by the edges and the tiny stitching surrounding the sole.” He showed the detectives an enlarged image of the details.
“What are those?” said Katie, pointing.
“They are the tiny marks caused by wear from the surfaces you walk on, like concrete or asphalt, or even some rural areas with gravel, wood, and heavy debris. These softer surfaces would indicate more of a scuff than a deep defined groove.” He looked at the detectives waiting for questions. “So the bottom ofyour shoes are like a fingerprint, in a way. Everyone has an independent tread based on what they do, where they go, and how they walk.”
It was a good clue, but Katie had a feeling it wasn’t going to be the smoking gun. “Okay. It will help if we have a suspect or person of interest who wears boots,” she said.
“Unfortunately, we can’t pinpoint the boot company. There are many companies out there that could have made this boot. The sole-matching will be key.”
“This gives us a lot to think about and a place to begin,” said Katie. “Thank you, John.” She gently touched his arm.
“I’ll keep you updated on anything else I find,” said John, smiling.
Katie recognized that the new findings weren’t going to catapult them to the killer, but they were more pieces of the puzzle.
TWENTY-SIX
Thursday 1000 hours
Katie and McGaven had discussed the next place to visit before they had to go to the prison in the afternoon. They had two jewelry stores that had been around for more than fifteen to twenty years. The Justin Brothers had been in business for more than twenty years and Gold Gems had been around for about fifteen years.
Katie drove up to the first jewelry store, the Justin Brothers. Katie scanned the large windows, which had been treated with something to make it so that you couldn’t see inside the door. There was a small area in the window that had some pretty items to entice potential customers.
“Looks like they are open,” said McGaven.
The detectives entered the store. An electronic buzz emitted when the door opened alerting a salesperson, and an older man came out to greet them; he had gray hair and a trimmed white beard.
“Good morning,” he said, smiling at the detectives. He glanced at their badges and guns. “Is there any problem?”
“We’re detectives Scott and McGaven from the Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department,” said Katie. “And you are?”
