That left no one to provide a single alibi or attest to his character. Still, maybe I hadn’t dug deep enough. I’d learned a long time ago during a different case the lengths criminals would go to protect an alternate identity. Very creative methods that defied logical and database capabilities.
Which was why I made a certain phone call.
Chase Barrett was DEA through and through, the kind of law enforcement office who got it done no matter the methods used in the process.
Including skirting the law.
Which Raven Intel did on a regular basis for our missions, but I had yet to be convinced the situation with Samuel Wells rose to the occasion. Whatever Chase discovered would tell the tale.
“Hey, Mav. I saw your ugly mug in theMiami Herald.” Chase laughed. He knew how much I hated publicity, especially having my picture taken and planted in the news.
“I don’t want to hear about it.”
His laugh continued. “Are you calling me to ask about the poker game? I mean since you haven’t been to the last three, we could have decided not to play cards any longer.”
“Yeah, right and pigs fly over a barbeque. I’m calling because I need your help.”
“O-kay. Rare. You have me curious.”
For some reason, I headed toward the window, staring out at the ocean. “You heard Samuel Wells is set for execution?”
“Who hasn’t heard. Closure for you. I’m certain you’re damn happy after all these fucking years.”
I fisted my other hand, trying to ascertain exactly how I felt. “What if he’s innocent?”
He coughed on purpose. “Are you fucking kidding me? He’s guilty as sin. Why would you say that?”
“You won’t believe it.”
“Try me.”
“Alright.” So, I told him everything. Well, not exactly everything. He didn’t need to learn about the passion I’d shared with Alexia.
“Okay, wow. That’s all I can say at this point. I mean, I guess it’s possible, but you were on the case. Evidently, you still are.”
“As much as I want justice served, it’s even worse if an innocent man pays for a heinous crime. I don’t get his involvement, but there’s enough reasonable doubt in my mind I need assurances he’s the killer.”
His shock was evident by the utter silence on the other end of the phone.
“Did I lose you?” I finally asked, returning to the computer system and staring at the face of the killer. I’d had an instructor at the FBI Academy who’d believed serial killers had distinct personalities, which allowed them to completely blend into any environment. While his theory wasn’t based in science, he’d believed the killers’ faces and mannerisms were completely different depending on which personality was active.
With a man like Samuel, he could easily disguise himself with simple changes. That’s how nondescript he was. No tattoos. No birthmarks. No scars. Nothing that caused him to stand out as anything different or special.
The instructor had helped me learn the art of delving deeper into evidence, which I believed I’d done all those years ago. But the nagging questions lingered in the back of my mind.
“You’re serious,” Chase finally offered, his tone full of caution.
“I need to know for certain. Can you use your sources to check and ensure he doesn’t have a family? It’s possible he faked his birth certificate out of New York.”
“You honestly think the DNA test results wouldn’t have indicated more than a slight chance there was no match?”
“It did. A point zero four percent chance, but that was deemed by the prosecutor to be acceptable.”
“In most court cases it would be.”
Snorting, I shifted to page two of page twenty-eight of my notes. I’d been thorough before beginning the book. “This wasn’t just any case, but after twelve murder victims, everyone in the country was ready for a conviction. They got one.”
“Wow. You’re really on the fence about this. Okay, because we are required by an oath we both took to follow the letter of the law.” He halfheartedly laughed and cleared his throat. “I’ll run it through every system and even have a chat with some international buddies of mine. Don’t get your hopes up if that’s what you’re doing.”
