Family Ties by Mairsile Leabhair

Author:Mairsile Leabhair [Leabhair, Mairsile]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-12-05T07:00:00+00:00

***

I walked into the ME’s office unannounced and sat down across from him. It was on my way to the hospital, and I knew my boss would want an up to the minute report. “Dr. Bradley, what have you got for me?”

“Agent Vandyke, you didn’t have to come all the way down here. I told you I would call if I had anything.”

“It’s Sunday, you’re still at work, and you haven’t called me yet. The game has changed, Doctor. I’ve got two people missing now, and one of them, my agent, has been buried alive with only a few hours to live. I need something. Anything that will help me catch this guy.”

“I sent you a report this morning on the trace elements, and I didn’t find anything significant other than the rope. And I’m still waiting on forensics to finish testing the blood on that rope. So far, they haven’t found a match in the database.”

I reached for my phone to check my emails and realized I had left it back at the office. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pulled out an ink pen and pad. “Send your report to Special Agent Ollie Gibson also, at this address.” I scribbled her email address down on the notepad. “Include her in all the reports you send me.”

He took the sheet of paper I offered and clicked on his desktop mouse. “Sending it to her now.”

“Thanks. So, was it human blood?”

“Yes, dating back to the 1860s,” he said, clicking his mouse before looking at me again. “That’s why it’s difficult to match, but we do know it was blood from an African-American male based on the hemoglobin levels and other factors.”

“A slave?”

“Most likely.”

“Damn… Was the rope that old, too?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes, and in amazingly good shape considering its age.”

“Why would he use old rope to tie up his victim? Where would he even get rope that old?”

He shrugged. “A museum, maybe? The rope had not been used in all those years prior to tying up your victim. There were trace amounts of dust particles, sugar cane, and a residue from ammonium hydroxide and sodium dodecylbenzene sulfonate, commonly used in glass cleaners like Windex. It’s all there in the report I sent you this morning.”

“Residue from a glass cleaner…” My mind was racing with possibilities. “So the rope that was used to restrain a slave was encased in glass, maybe a showcase on display like you said, a museum piece, and the case was dusted and cleaned.”

“That’s my theory,” he said.

“Thank you, Doctor,” I said, jumping up from my chair. “Let me know the second you match the DNA, no matter what time it is. The name of the slave could have significance to this case. A person’s life is depending on it.”

“Yes, I will do that. Good luck, Agent Vandyke.”

I walked out the door with my cell phone in my hand, tapping on Ollie’s number. “I need a list of all the museums in the city and phone numbers of their curators, and I need it ASAP.

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