Chapter 58
The Revenant handled the snow like it was nothing. We parked in front of Ian’s house and plodded up the snow-covered walkway. Snow still fluttered down. My breath fogged the air.
JD and I were bundled up well.
I rang the video doorbell.
Ian responded a moment later, his voice filtering through. "Gentlemen, I have nothing further to say to you. If you have any additional questions, you can talk to my attorney.”
"That's okay,” I said. “You don't have to say anything. I don't have any questions. I’ve figured it all out. But I think you'll want to know what I have to say.”
He didn’t disconnect.
"Look, I don't know if you got to Zach or someone else in the department.
Maybe someone in the lab. It wouldn't surprise me.
You've got a lot of contacts as a defense attorney.
Expert witnesses. Couriers don't make a lot of money.
It doesn't really matter. When we turn up the heat, how long do you think it's going to be before whoever you paid to tamper with the evidence rats you out?”
He was silent for a long moment. "I think you've made some kind of mistake. I didn't pay anybody to tamper with any evidence."
"You really should keep quiet. Talking right now is not in your best interest. Just listen for a minute."
That threw him for a loop. Ian wasn't used to that kind of advice coming from a cop. But you had to play a different kind of game with lawyers.
"I hope you get your money back, because they didn't get the job done," I said.
"Oh sure, they tried to bleach the panties.
A small syringe filled with bleach was injected into the bag at the seam.
Hard to spot at first. But it's amazing how sensitive modern PCR testing is.
Most of the DNA was degraded, but the FDLE lab in Miami was able to identify a unique sequence.
" I tried not to sound too smug about it when I said, "Have any guesses about who that DNA might belong to?”
It was all bullshit. But Ian didn't know that.
There was another long silence. "I wouldn't begin to have a guess."
"You’ve got a sister, Abigail, right? I guess she's into genealogy, ancestry, that kind of stuff. She submitted DNA to one of those sites to get a full genetic profile.”
The speaker crackled as he disconnected.
I was surprised he listened that long.
JD and I shared a look, sure that was the end of the conversation. But a figure approached the door a moment later. Ian stood on the other side of the door for a moment, then pulled it open after some debate. “What’s my sister got to do with any of this?”
He knew where this was going.
“That site went into bankruptcy, sold its entire genetic library to a third-party data broker, which provides data to state and federal agencies. We were able to get a familial match.”
By that time, the color had drained from Ian's face. His eyes twitched as he thought about it. "If that were true, you'd be here with a warrant, and I'd be in handcuffs."
"How do you know I don't have a warrant in my back pocket?” I stared him down for a long moment. "The noose is tightening. Do you want to be the one hanging from it?”
Ian said nothing, still thinking this whole thing through.
"Holden freaked out,” I said. “He killed Wesley, he killed Cameron, he killed Landon.
I know you think you two are close, but the minute he gets a sense that you're going to turn on him, all bets are off.” I paused.
"As it stands, you're going to jail. There's no way around it.
Holden is going to get off scot-free. Now, if you come to your senses and agree to testify, I'm sure we can work out something favorable.”
After another long pause, Ian asked, “Hypothetically speaking—and this is in no way an admission—what does favorable mean?”
“I can talk to the state’s attorney. In a situation like this, you plead to voluntary manslaughter in the Sarah Sweet case. 5-10, possibly a suspended sentence. Depends on whether you can deliver Holden.”