Hounded by David Rosenfelt

Author:David Rosenfelt [Rosenfelt, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Mystery & Detective, General, Thrillers, Suspense
ISBN: 9781250024756
Google: 4y0oAwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00HTJBCUC
Barnesnoble: B00HTJBCUC
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2014-07-22T05:00:00+00:00

Fingerprints are not what they used to be.

At one time they were the definitive way to learn if someone was in a particular place. They are unique, and their presence positively connected a person to a room, or object, or weapon.

Now we leave our indelible fingerprints everywhere, and they pretty much have nothing to do with fingers.

Obviously there is DNA; it is almost impossible to spend any time in a place without our genetic makeup remaining after we’re gone. Investigators have had the use of the technology to identify DNA for quite a while now, but it is hard to comprehend how many criminals could have been convicted, as well as convicted people exonerated, in the years before it existed.

But that is far from all the tools investigators have at their disposal. There are cameras everywhere, public and private, that seem to document our every move. It seems like nothing happens without being captured on film, and it has become a fantasy to expect privacy or anonymity.

If we write an email, or a tweet, it is permanent. If we visit a website, the world of law enforcement, to say nothing of the world of advertising, knows we have been there, what we did once we were there, and how long we spent there.

And then there are the ubiquitous GPS devices, in rental cars, in our own cars, and most notably in our cell phones. We implant chips in our dogs to make sure they can be found, and then we carry devices around in our own pockets and in the process inadvertently let phone companies track our own movements, or at least that of our phones.

We’re attempting to make good use of the GPS in Diaz’s phone; Sam is still assigning addresses to the list of coordinates, and we’ll try to retrace his movements in his last days as best we can.

But for now, a phone call from Pete brings me back to the good old days. “We’ve got the prints,” he says. “The guy used his real name. Wally Reese.”

Pete had asked a friend, a forensics cop named Kathleen Flory, for a favor. Flory was to check for prints in room 221 of the Oakmont Gardens, where we believe Juanita Diaz was held. Wally Reese is the name he wrote on the register, but I had assumed it was a fake.

It was not; Reese was apparently unconcerned about being caught, and Flory reported that his prints were all over the room. That means he is either stupid or wasn’t doing anything illegal, which in turn would mean that Juanita Diaz was there voluntarily.

I am hoping for stupid.

“Great,” I say. “Can you have someone run his record?”

“I already have, and that’s where the news gets less great.”

“How so?”

“Reese was arrested three times for assault and attempted murder. Convicted twice, served six years, got out two years ago. He lived in Hackensack.”

That’s all interesting and helpful, but what I instantly notice is Pete’s choice of tense. “Lived?” I ask.

“Lived. His body was found yesterday in a ditch off Route 80.

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