“They’ve been entered into the major data banks with no luck. I can start trying some of the smaller ones.”

Nora wished there were one primary data bank that held all fingerprints, but the truth was that there were dozens of them. And that was just in the United States. The systems had greatly improved over the last decade, but they still had a long way to go. It wasn’t as simple as scanning prints into a computer and having it search everywhere for a perfect match. For some data banks a person had to physically mail a copy of the prints along with a letter of request that they be run for comparison. The funds to computerize simply weren’t available in all communities. “See if there are any small databases we can submit to in the area where Gianna grew up. The fact that this guy had a necklace she lost long ago makes me suspect he’s connected to her past.”

“I will. I feel like the necklace is an important factor, but we can’t figure out what to do with it.”

“I agree. I think it could crack this whole case wide open, but the damn thing doesn’t talk,” said Nora. “Anything back on the photos from the crime scenes? Did the photography techs see anything we didn’t?”

“Nothing has come back yet. I’ll call the lab. It’s a bit soon to ask,” he said pointedly.

“I know. But poking them will make them want us off their backs and get the job done sooner.”

“Or piss them off and they decide to take their time.”

“Don’t talk about our lab guys like that. They love me. I send them cookies at Christmas.”

“They see right through that, you know.”

“Did you dig up anything on that Sullivan autopsy case Dr. Trask mentioned?” The case had flitted through Nora’s mind several times. Could a Sullivan relative be angry enough to harm Gianna over her stand on a case?

“I did. The family tried to file some sort of lawsuit against the New York medical examiner’s office and named Dr. Trask specifically, but it was thrown out before it got anywhere. Basically she classified it as a suicide and the Sullivan family took exception to that.”

“She seemed very positive about her results when she mentioned it to us.”

“It went through some sort of peer review with the other medical examiners. They agreed with her findings.”

“Any issues after that?”

“Dr. Trask reported receiving threatening letters to the police, but the letters all went to her office. Nothing came to her home, so I don’t think they knew where she lived, and as far as I can tell all the remaining relatives are over seventy. The letter writer was an aunt who rarely leaves her home in New York . . . she’s also known for writing threatening letters to the president and several members of the Senate. I don’t think these are people who can create the type of destruction we’ve seen over the last few days.”

“Are they from money? Could they have hired someone? Our first John Doe was older. Could he have been a Sullivan?”

“Yes, there is a lot of money in the family,” said Henry. “But they aren’t spenders. They have these huge bank accounts and investments but live off almost nothing. I have a mental picture of a bunch of old people who wear darned socks and drink weak tea while they’re wrapped up in patchwork quilts because they don’t want to turn on the heat in their million-dollar homes.”

The older John Doe’s new clothing and the Hispanic victim’s old clothing spun in Nora’s mind. Could they have been hired by the Sullivans? Or was one of them part of the family? She was liking the theory more and more. “Let’s find out if any family members are missing and request their bank records. Maybe we’ll get lucky with a suspiciously large payout.”

“Will do. But I’ll warn you, these people are the type who also hide cash in their mattresses.”

“Any other people with an ax to grind against Gianna Trask? Or her daughter?” asked Nora.

“I’m looking into some of the daughter’s friends. I’m waiting for my calls to be returned.”

“Good. I’m headed in. See you in a few.”

“Pick me up an Americano with half-and-half,” Henry begged.

She hit End on her phone without replying, but grinned as she put her car into gear.

It’d been easy to slip the new tracker onto Gianna’s rental car.

Now he knew where she was at all times. While her car was parked in the garage at the hotel downtown, he’d taken the time to review the last few days.

So much to cover up.

Looking back, he could see each mistake. His father didn’t need to know about them. So far he’d managed to keep them from leaking out, but if he didn’t recover the thumb drive soon, his father’s questions would become more persistent.

He had to find the storage device.

She and her daughter had not been meant to survive the flames and smoke. After prematurely killing the old man, he’d panicked, worried his father would find out he’d lost their primary lead to the thumb drive.

He’d thought the fire would be a perfect way to eliminate all evidence and cover his ass. If both the old man and Gianna Trask had died in a fire, there would have been no way his father could blame him for not finding the thumb drive first. He’d hauled the man’s body through the snow to the other cabin, berating himself every step for acting in haste and not thinking. He’d been wrong to hit the old man. He’d been wrong to shoot Rafael. He’d made too many moves without thinking first. The hike through the woods with a dead body had been an exhausting trek, but his fears over his father’s anger had driven every step.