hands were similar to Carol Harlan except she didn’t have nail polish and they looked as if she chewed them.
“The condition looks similar.”
“The dirt under the nails is consistent. But there’s no way to determine exactly where the dirt is from in this county because most of the soil is made up of clay, sand and other organic matter. If you get up to the higher elevations, then you might be able to tell due to the organic matter. Like yellow or red soil has more oxidized ferric iron oxides and brown or black soil has more water or oxygen content.”
“Hmmm.”
“You’re thinking again.”
“I’ve seen both crime scenes in person, but when I view them on the computer certain things pop up to me.”
“Like?”
“I’m noticing now that both of them have clean hair. Doesn’t that seem a little strange to you?”
“I haven’t thought much about it, but it does seem unlikely that they would have clean hair. But it does answer the question of why I found traces on their skin of what would be consistent as shampoo.”
“What about the nail polish?” she said, going through the evidence in her mind.
“From what we know so far, it’s just cheap polish that you can purchase anywhere, the super stores, drugs stores, maybe some beauty supplies outlets. It is a distinct color of pink so that would cut out some of your search. But it belonged to the victim.”
“Were the rope or twine the same?”
“No.”
Katie felt defeated. “A different type of rope?”
“Yes and no.”
“Now you sound like Dr. Dean.”
“It was the same type of heavy cotton twine, but different thicknesses. One was quarter inch and the other was three eighths of the same. Now, if I had something to compare them to—something from a suspect’s house—that would be a different story.”
“I see,” said Katie, jotting down a few notes to jog her memory. “Nothing I can run with. It could mean the same person, or not.”
“I will send you the report.”
“I know, but writing it makes me remember it more concisely at the moment. More visual.”
“How are you doing?” he asked, turning his undivided attention on her.
“Me? I’m fine.” She thought that was a question out of the blue.
“I know how hard it was for you with your aunt’s death and your uncle taking the brunt of the investigation.” He paused. “I haven’t seen much of you and well…”
“John, I’ve appreciated your friendship and everything you’ve done to help me during that time. You and McGaven have been priceless to me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Priceless, huh.”
Katie laughed rather nervously, and said, “You know what I mean. I don’t know how else to describe it. We all have stressful jobs and understand the nature of this business, but when personal things happen it’s nice to know who your real friends are.”
“I agree.”
Katie smiled.
“I didn’t know if you noticed or not, but your Harlan victim had a patch of hair removed.”
“Yes, I saw that. What do you mean, though? Like ripped out?”
“It appears that way.”
Katie thought about it. “Maybe the killer took it as a keepsake or trophy?”
“Could be,” he said.
“Okay, now for the $64,000 question,” she said.
“The carvings on their backs.” He moved to another computer and with impressive speed brought up several files. One graph showed sharp spikes up and down while the other showed percentages of chemicals—both natural and manmade.
Katie watched with extreme interest.
“Okay, we were able to get enough to test what the ink was made of and to determine it wasn’t premade or a common type of ink tattoo, or otherwise; it was actually a concoction that was homemade with a few unexpected ingredients.”
Katie was completely intrigued and waited patiently.
“We tested in a couple of places from both victims. It revealed that sometimes the ink was stronger and then weaker in its mixture.” Clicking to another open window, “Here’s the list of the main ingredients: part linseed and soybean oil, mixed with pigments of black henna and oxide to obtain a rust color, with raw materials of equal portions of benzene, ethylene, and propylene.”
“Isn’t that similar to what’s in standard writing ink?”
“Some of it with the manmade oils and various pigments, which makes different hues and adds a type of preservative to keep the colors.”
“What if he used an old-fashioned pen—the kind that you dip into a small jar of ink.”
“It’s possible.”
“A nib that’s flat with sloped sides that holds the ink—similar to a quill,” she said.
John changed photos and stopped on three photos of the victims’ carved backs stained