Thinking about Pugh, and the fact that The Burning Land claimed to not know the FBI was looking at them, made me wonder. Had Pugh known Emily in some other way? Could he have been a source of information for her? He could have been an informant for his own group. As with any case, there were more questions than answers.
At least I managed to suppress my urge to call Detective Holly from the Baltimore homicide squad this late in the evening. If she was working, it was because they had an active homicide. If she wasn’t, I didn’t want to bother her at home. I managed to force myself to lie on top of the sheets and doze off.
First thing in the morning, still wearing my clothes from the night before, I decided to call Detective Holly. Her cheerful voice and positive attitude this early annoyed the shit out of me. But I kept my comments to myself.
After we got the small talk out of the way, Detective Holly said, “I know you didn’t call to see how I’m doing on the job. For the record, I’m crushing it. What can I do for you this morning?”
“I was curious about the DNA you collected at the scene of the Michelle Luna homicide. I know you ran it through the CODIS. Did you ever have any suspects good enough to collect samples from?”
“Never developed anyone enough to worry about DNA. I was still hoping we might get a random hit at some point in the future. They’re always adding samples to the CODIS database.”
“What if I had some suspects in the Emily Parker homicide I’ve been looking at? Could we compare them to the Michelle Luna DNA?”
“That’s fine with me. In fact, it sounds like a good idea. The FBI has the profile, and their evidence unit is holding our DNA sample.” She paused, then added, “Will your suspects give you consent, or will you have to get the samples surreptitiously?”
“I know for sure that no one is giving me consent to take a sample. Some think they’re above the law, and one suspect probably thinks it would be a conspiracy to charge him. It’s going to take some work to get samples. At least that gives me something concrete to do.”
“Call me if I can be of service.”
I wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic. “I’m sure you’re a credit to the Baltimore Police Department.”
I heard a cheerful “Bite me” just as the line went dead.
Chapter 71
I sat at the small desk in my hotel room, staring at a blank legal pad. Somehow I had a feeling things were starting to move. Maybe it was just me thinking about a different aspect of the case. Maybe it was Detective Holly’s good-natured personality. Somehow, still wearing yesterday’s clothes, I had a faint feeling of hope. But it’s hard to exploit hope without some hard work.
Trying to get a DNA sample surreptitiously is one of the trickier investigative jobs. DNA can be derived from a number of sources, like someone’s sweat, saliva, hair, mucus, or, of course, blood. Think about the challenge of taking any of those things without a person knowing about it. A stealthy investigator might be able to pull out a strand of a suspect’s hair without her knowing it. But probably not. You could follow her around for a month until she got a haircut. Then you’d have to prove there was a 100 percent chance you had picked up the right hair. After that, the sample would have to match. It was an endless maze that ended in a puzzle.
The three suspects I was focusing on were Beth Banks, Justice Steinberg, and Jeremy Pugh. I didn’t even want to think how I’d manage to get a DNA sample from someone who worked at the Supreme Court. Jeremy Pugh might be a much easier case. Especially if he accosted me again. A decent punch and I might end up with plenty of DNA sample on my knuckles.
The other more direct, and efficient, way was to see how the NYPD was doing on the investigation into Jeremy Pugh’s altercation with the New York Times reporter. That reporter had been hospitalized for three days. I had left the details with a friend of mine at the Special Investigations Division.
Detective Sergeant Lisa Mulé had worked with me in a couple of squads over the years. Her nickname was Lisa “Chaos.” That’s because chaos seemed to follow her. Or, more often, she seemed to cause it. More than that, Lisa seemed to thrive in it.
At home, she had four kids, each smarter than the last. That made for a wild mix. Our theory on the squad was that she was so used to chaos at home, she needed it at work to feel normal. She was definitely a punch-first-ask-questions-later kind of cop. To make all that even more interesting, she stood a statuesque five foot ten, with a smile that could stop traffic.