Page 40 of Homicide in Water Creek

The emotions streaming across his face would have been comical if this were a laughing matter. “Using items obtained illegally could jeopardize the entire investigation and render anything we find inadmissible in court.”

“Define illegally obtained,” she said, noting the sigh he let out before answering. They were both tired, but she was trying to help if he’d just let her.

“Removed from the residence without permission, private property you took without asking, taking a can that was sitting on a table without permission. That kind of thing.”

“What about a pop can that was opened, consumed in public, and then discarded in a public trash can? At least if you consider my chow hall a public place.”

“I do if he threw it away himself,” King said, standing and leaning over the desk.

“I waited until he was out of the building before grabbing it. I didn’t want him to walk back in and see me take it.”

Walking around the desk, he pulled her up and into him, kissing her square on the lips. “That confirms abandonment and is admissible. Way to think on your feet!”

“I’m honestly surprised you haven’t grabbed something of his for prints sooner,” Jacks admitted, sitting again as he walked behind his desk.

“There was no probable cause to believe he was lying about his identity,” King explained. “He passed his background check, so a gut feeling wasn’t enough to demand his prints. Now that we know he’s somehow connected to a known criminal, either innocently or otherwise, running his prints simply verifies his identity.”

“Do you think the identities will match?” Jacks asked, curious.

“If they do, it will only be in name. Something tells me that if he is Wade Owens, the rest of his background is very different from what the first report said.”

Biting her lip, she glanced at the bag again. “I just hope his thumbprints are on file somewhere.”

King rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll leave no stone unturned. We’ll send them in and hope we can get at least one usable print. He also drank out of it, so there could be DNA we can run through CODIS to see if he has any ties to a crime or crime scene.”

“What is CODIS?”

“It’s the FBI’s Combined DNA Index System. It’s a database that lets local, state, and national crime labs compare DNA of known convicted criminals, arrestees, and even evidence found at crime scenes that hasn’t been tied to a specific person yet.”

“So if he’s not in CODIS that means he’s legit?”

“No. Not at all. Not being in CODIS just means he hasn’t been arrested and his DNA hasn’t been found at a crime scene.”

“Then we’d be back to square one,” she said, deflated. “I thought this was a slam dunk.”

“Not necessarily back to square one. If we get prints back, the FBI can also tell us whether he was ever a sworn officer. When you become a police officer, you’re fingerprinted, and those prints are stored in a database with the FBI. Getting his prints would be incredibly helpful, but you’re right about his hands. Most of his fingertips are missing.”

“We have to find out who this guy is, King. We’re running out of time.”

Walking around the desk, he pulled her into a hug. “Trust me, the idea of you being out there with him, not knowing his intentions, scares the hell out of me. I sent Chinos’s picture to a friend in St. Paul. He’s going to run facial recognition software to see if they can find him somewhere in the system.”

“You can’t do that here?”

Shaking his head, King sighed. “One day, I hope to secure a grant that will allow me to set it up and make it the station that serves other smaller counties like ours. In the meantime, I have to rely on bigger departments if the need arises. If he gets a hit, he’ll email me immediately.”

“If we have his real name, I know we can unravel why he’s here.”

King’s phone rang, and he held up a finger. “Sheriff King.” He listened for a moment, then grabbed a pad of paper and started writing. He asked questions she didn’t understand, waited for answers, then slammed the phone down. “We got it!”

“Got what?” Jacks asked, standing to grab his arm as he moved faster than she could follow.

“Vonita’s rental car. It’s just outside Fort Bridger.”

“Fort Bridger? There’s literally nothing there. It’s maybe an hour or two from here.” Horror gripped her as realization dawned. “She was coming here.”

“Looks like it,” King agreed, his lips drawn into a thin, grim line. “I don’t know why. I’m hoping her car holds the key to this mystery.”

“Second question. Why would a hauler stop in Fort Bridger? That doesn’t make sense. It’s not much farther to Water Creek.”