Chapter 7 #2
Lincoln was going to make a snide remark about the impossibility of someone who was so loud in his class being so quiet, but then Carter tossed Lincoln’s too-small-for-him coat on the back of the empty desk chair and snagged his own off the one Lincoln had dropped his bag into.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said instead. “I totally walked out in your coat.”
“It’s fine,” Carter said with a smirk. He claimed the bench stool next to Lincoln. “Unless you want to heat me up, Professor.”
He stifled the “yes” that wanted to escape with snark instead. “I will heat you up with data.”
Carter propped a foot on the bar of Lincoln’s stool and leaned in. “Oh, baby, talk dirty to me.”
Lincoln covered his face with his hands and laughed. No other choice, and Carter laughed with him, warm and bright, and it was a welcome respite after hours of grinding work. Smiling, he peeked out from behind his fingers at Carter. “Thank you.”
He returned the grin. “You’re welcome. Now, show me what you got.”
“You were right that Jeremiah’s gray hair is a genetic variant versus mine, which is a result of old age.”
“Seasoned, L. The word is seasoned.”
“Yes, well, Jeremiah has not seen as many seasons as me. Though I’d bet he’s seen more hospitals.” He tapped at a genetic marker on the screen. “This is a frameshift mutation that is associated with increased susceptibility to Crohn’s disease, which in this case may also be a founder variant.”
“English, Professor.”
“You were doing so well with the science-speak before.”
Carter held a hand up at about the level of Lincoln’s chin. “Limits, remember.”
Lincoln chuckled, lowering Carter’s hand, his own lingering on his longer than strictly necessary before he withdrew it.
“A founder variation, or the founder effect, occurs when a small population separates from a larger population, thereby cutting off the gene pool. So if there are any anomalies in that gene pool—”
“They’re likely to get replicated.”
“Exactly. Take the higher incidence of Huntington’s disease among Dutch Afrikaners, fumarase deficiency in LDS members, or polydactylism in Amish populations. Segmented populations, by geography, religion, or choice, where gene pools are limited and anomalies replicated.”
“Which in the original Apex population may be premature gray hair and Crohn’s disease?”
“Premature gray hair is the thing we can visibly see. Jeremiah also having Crohn’s may just be a coincidence, but autoimmune conditions, such as Crohn’s, have been linked to premature graying.”
“What about the frameshift thing you mentioned?”
“Right, so DNA base pairs come in sets of three. A frameshift variation occurs when a base pair is deleted or inserted, and it is not in a set of three, so it causes a disruption in the chain. Increased susceptibility to Crohn’s can arise from, among other things, a frameshift variation.”
“And if that frameshift variant existed in an isolated population?”
“It could also be replicated, passed down, and characterized as a founder variant.”
“We need to call this in,” Carter said, already pulling out his phone.
Lincoln laid a hand over his, stilling it before Carter could call Beverley. “Like I said, the Crohn’s disease could just be a coincidence.”
“But not the premature graying. That seems statistically relevant, yes?”
Lincoln nodded.
“Good. All that work I just put in at the library won’t go to waste.”
“What’d you do?”
Carter swiped Beverley’s contact away and opened his photos, then held the phone so Lincoln could see.
“Using the time windows established for Dr. Fear’s earliest cycles, I started going through photos, particularly town events, where so-called founding families would most likely be, and I flagged those with baby silver foxes. ”
Lincoln flipped through the pictures, most of them in color, making the young silver-haired persons stand out even more. He paused on one, a shot at a ribbon cutting. He spread his fingers to zoom in on the uniformed officer. “Is that Barry?”
“Maybe, or it could be their father, or Larry. They all looked similar in the photos I saw at the station. I can’t be sure without asking them or doing more research to conclusively ID everyone in the photo.”
“Asking them will blow our cover, and if the police are involved . . .”
Carter nodded. “We can’t blow our cover.”
“You’re right, though.” Lincoln closed the photo app and handed the phone back to Carter.
“We can call this much in. Let’s get forensics to double-check evidence from the past scenes.
Hair samples especially. At least two of Dr. Fear’s victims were older and had gray hair.
Let’s confirm any gray hairs collected at the scene were theirs.
If there were gray hairs found at the scene that aren’t theirs, then maybe those belong to Dr. Fear.
And if none from past scenes are found, let’s see if any were or can be found from the scene where Ruby and Chase were taken. Neither of them has gray hair.”
Carter hesitated before clicking on Beverley’s contact.
“What is it?” Lincoln asked.
“The premature graying . . . Are we attributing that to Dr. Fear or the copycat, or both?”
Good point. In his excitement at catching a break, Lincoln hadn’t made the distinction.
Then again, the copycat wouldn’t want to either.
“I think we use it to potentially narrow the suspect pool for Dr. Fear, and going on what you said earlier, let’s assume that a copycat would either find the premature gray a commonality with his idol or he would want to emulate his idol. ”
“So we have forensics also check for gray hair dye?”
“I think so.” This time Lincoln forestalled the call to Beverley, a hand on Carter’s knee.
“This may be nothing,” he said, reining in their shared enthusiasm.
“The gray-hair connection is just a theory. A place for us to start. But a long-term Apex U employee, gray hair or not, could be just as likely.”
Carter’s face fell, a sort of disappointment there so at odds with the normally confident agent that Lincoln probably would have almost fallen off his stool again, if not for Carter’s legs bracing him in.
And if not for Carter wiping away the expression the next instant.
“Both avenues are more than we had this time yesterday,” he said.
“Agreed.” Lincoln squeezed his knee. “Call Beverley.”
The director picked up right away, conferenced in Oliver, and Lincoln and Carter filled them in on the details. There was agreement on narrowing their suspect search to longtime Apex U employees and Apex founding families, less so on narrowing it further based on the gray hair theory.
“It’s tenuous, at best,” Beverley cautioned.
“It’s one more possibility,” Oliver insisted.
“We should at least look back at the past scenes, as they suggest.” He sounded both strung out and excited.
Lincoln remembered him sounding the same during Dr. Fear’s last cycle.
He also remembered the disappointment as he’d sipped fifty-dollars-a-glass scotch and told Lincoln he was done.
Fuck, Lincoln did not want to hear his friend sound like that again—or worse, with Ruby’s life on the line—after this round with Dr. Fear.
There was more at stake for him than ever.
“Fine,” Beverley said. “Coordinate with forensics.”
“L, Carter, I’ll keep you two posted. Bev, you’ll get them on the other lead?”
“Got it, Age—Senator Kirk.”
“You’ve got a lead there?” Carter asked.
“One we need you to follow up on in Apex,” Beverley said. “We got the workup on Ruby’s car.” She and Chase had been run off the road and taken out of it. “Managed to isolate a paint sample from the car that hit them.”
“The other car hit them?” Lincoln said. That was news. Evidence at the scene had indicated the attack car had cut them off in front and forced them to fishtail off the road.
“Ruby’s back bumper scraped a wheel well. Probably didn’t even notice it. The paint is custom. Will email you the details. Need you to run it through local records there in Apex. See if any vehicles match.”
“We’re on it,” Carter said, hanging up and swiveling off his stool.
Lincoln missed the closeness immediately. But then Carter was behind him, correct coat open and waiting. “Think I’ll take my coat this time,” he said with a wink. “Two buildings over, I could survive without. But two miles back to the police station, not so much.”
Lincoln stole a few more seconds in the warm oversized leather jacket before surrendering it with a pout. “We’re not walking, are we?”
“It’s not that far.”
“It is in the cold!” Lincoln squawked as he slipped back into his coat.
Carter’s eyes flickered to his feet. “You wore your boots today.”
“Have you seen how many times I’ve almost tripped over them?” He closed his laptop, shoved it into his bag, and slung the strap over his shoulder. “Do we have after-hours access to the station?”
Carter held up a key. “We’re set, and the car’s downstairs.”
“That’s fucking teamwork,” Lincoln singsonged as he followed a laughing Carter out of the lab.