"Hey Sara, I hope you're calling with good news," Mike asked.
"I have great news. I found a match to the female part of the sperm, and I'm sending the information to you."
"What? How did you get her DNA so fast?"
"I didn't, I ran a special blood test, and she is a carrier of hemophilia. There was a trace of blood in the sperm, and that little bit gave me enough to run tests. Unless Lana is a carrier, she is excluded."
"Sara you are a genius."
"I have more good news, I'm running the sperm's blood type through our data base, and so far we have about forty hits in the United States. The blood type is so rare I thought I would give it a try. But this will only work if he has a record with his blood type on file. I'm also running the blood type around Ms. Borders's mouth, and there are a lot more blood types to compare. So far there are over six hundred in the US. I'm going to try to narrow it down to one."
"You amaze me. When you get the list will you send it to the BAU and to me?"
"I sure will, and I will let you know of any new updates."
"Thanks Sara"
"It's my pleasure to help."
*****
Mike walked over to the computer, and watched Joe work his miracles. Joe downloaded the picture to the computer and played around with it, trying to make it clear. When he finished he handed it to Mike for approval.
Mike nodded. "You did a great job. Go ahead and process it to all the agencies and run it through the FBI database."
The first day he started working with Mike and the team, he found out he would be the tech guy. When it came to technology, none of the men were savvy, nor did they want to learn. Every time they had a case, Mike always gave instructions, but Joe knew what to do. They worked so harmoniously together, sometimes they didn't have to speak. They did what needed to be done.
When Joe finished processing everything he leaned back in his chair, happy with himself.
After Mike had looked at the picture for a few second, he spun it around to Lana and asked,
"Is this the man you saw at the airport, restaurant, and grocery store?"
After staring at the photo for a few minutes, she grinned. "Yes, this is the man I saw. You know, he kind of looks like that Peter guy."
"Yes he does, and we've sent all law enforcement the information on the real Peter Waters."
"Why Peter Waters?"
"Remember Lana, he doesn't know we know the name he's using. He doesn't even know you remember him from the airport."
Joe added, "Let's hope he gets stopped, and he uses Peters ID."
"In the meantime, we are processing his airport photo through the FBI facial recognition database. That might give us another name, his real name," said Mike.
"How long does it take to get a match?"
"On the positive side, it could be minutes, and sometimes we don't get a match at all," Joe answered.
You could tell Mike was in a good mood, and she knew exactly how he felt. He massaged her shoulders; it felt so good and helped her relax. "You know Joe, we're going to make an investigator out of Lana yet."
"Yes sir," he said with a grin.
Mike stopped massaging, and she pulled his hands back. He started massaging again with a quick little kiss on the neck. "I can tell the way you and Joe are looking at each other, you already processed the photos through the database, right?"
Without missing a beat on massaging, Mike said, "Yep."
She motioned Mike to follow her to the chair and continue the massage. She could feel the stress leaving her body. But that feeling didn't last long, Mike's phone rang. That damn phone.
Mike pushed some buttons and answered while still rubbing one side of her neck. "Hey Sara, what do you have for me."
She was breathless with excitement. "Mike I have great news."
"Yes."
"I would say the luck of the Irish is on your side."
"Why is that?"
"Both the male blood types are uncommon."
"Okay."
"Well I ran the sperm blood type in the national database with a starting point on the east coast."
"Okay."
"I then narrowed the search to Massachusetts and got seven close matches. Then I searched Plymouth and got two. I then ran a mitochondrial DNA and his sperm matched eighty percent of the pointers. This type of testing doesn't take as long to find a match. After all this, I got a match with a guy named Tony Mitter out of Hull. He has a record, and I'm sending it to you as we speak."
"Sara, I love you. Send a copy to Quent and the BAU."
"I already have."
Lana had never seen so much whooping and hollering in her life. It was as though they had won the Super Bowl. All the men jumped up, and Mike said, "Okay team, we know our role so let's get ready."
All the men ran outside and brought in tons of body armor. She didn't realize they were a SWAT team. They were geared up in a matter of five minutes. She sat there in shock. She did notice Mike and Joe didn't get out their SWAT uniforms. "Aren't you going?"
"No, Joe and I will stay with you. Raymond can lead the team."
"You don't waste any time, do you?"
"Honey we can't, we have to move faster than the suspect."
She looked at Joe and asked, "Do you think this guy is the one who killed the Borders?"
"Let's hope so, and let's hope they find him." Deep down Joe had a concern about the blood around Ms. Borders's mouth, but maybe this guy would have some answers. Telling anything to Lana would be Mike's job.
Excitement overwhelmed her, and she knew how the guys felt. She couldn't sit still she was so excited. "Joe, are you disappointed you don't get to go?"
"Maybe a little bit. It is pretty exciting when we break down doors and go in as a bad ass. It's especially nice when you get to handcuff the bad guy."
"I can certainly understand that."
Mike walked over by the fire to get warm.
She couldn't help but run over to him and give him a hug. She cried tears of relief.
Mike held her close.
When Joe saw the tears, he got up and walked outside partly to get information on Tony and partly to give them time alone.
"Babe I love you so much," he said as he raised her head so he could look into her eyes.
"What happened to that bad ass that was here a little while ago?"
"Shut up, I thought about telling you that I love you and thanking you for taking care of me, but now I'm not."
He rolled his head back laughing at his cutie pie. "Baby I love to tease you."
She just buried her head in his chest with contentment. She certainly understood why they loved their job so much.
Joe walked back in with all the information about Tony Mitter. "He is a thirty-eight-year-old truck driver, married with two children, and he lives in Hull. He is six feet tall, brown hair and hazel eyes. He has a receding hairline, and six known tattoos. He has been arrested for several different crimes, but nothing major—mostly drunk and disorderly, DWI, resisting arrest, and open container. It sounds as though this guy has an alcohol problem. I'm surprised he keeps his job as a truck driver."
When Mike stared at the information for ten minutes, he asked, "What do you think?"
"I don't think he's the guy," he said with confidence.
"I don't either. But one fact we do know, his sperm was on the wall outside of my house.
Also, Ms. Borders's blood type was with that sperm. So the million dollar question is—how did his sperm get with the dead Ms. Borders's?"
Joe put a pencil in his mouth, as though that would help him think. "Maybe he had a pair of her underwear and he jacked-off using her underwear."
"There has to be another explanation," answered Mike.
"Maybe he had sex with her before he killed her. Then he took his sperm out of her and put it on the wall," said Joe.
Although it was disgusting, it made sense Mike added to that thought. "Okay let's say he did that. Why? What would be the point of taking the sperm out of her and putting it on the wall—
my wall?"
Joe pulled the pencil from his mouth and held it like a cigarette. "Maybe after he killed the Borders he realized someone rented this house, and he was afraid they saw him. So he put the knife in the steak and the sperm on the wall to distract from the crime."
"Let me think a minute. You said he was a truck driver?"
"Yes sir."
"See if you can find his route and where he's been this past week."
Joe knew where Mike was going with this, and he jumped up and went to the computer.
After several minutes, he found the information. "Mike, he was gone all last week, and he got back into town with his rig late last night. Yesterday he filled his truck with gas in Boston, or at least someone using his credit card did. Also, two days ago he got a speeding ticket in Ohio."
"Do you show the state logs on his rig?"
"Yes sir, and he signed off on all the logs for the past week. He went cross-country to California and every state between here and there."
"So, he wasn't here the night the sperm was put on the wall, or the steak was stabbed?"
"No sir, he wasn't."
"That still doesn't answer the question—how his sperm got out of him and on my wall."
Lana intently listened and came up with her own theory. "Maybe Ms. Borders had an affair with Tony? Maybe her husband found out about their affair. Then he killed her and took the sperm out of her and put it on the wall. He would know no one would find the sperm, so he put the knife in the steak. Then he went back home and killed himself, thinking all the evidence would point to Tony."
Joe thought a minute. "Mike, that's a good theory."
"Joe, call the medical examiner and ask how Mr. Borders died, and the time he died."
"Yes sir."
Mike asked his sweetheart, "Are you hungry?"
"Maybe a little. What did you have in mind?"
They walked into the kitchen and rummaged through the pantry and fridge. "You know it's nearly suppertime, and I don't mind fixing us something to eat."
"Nope, I'm going to send Joe into town to get some buckets of chicken."
"I hate to admit this, but that does sound good. Can I at least make the baked beans and coleslaw?"
"That's a deal," he answered.
Joe walked into the kitchen and looked at his notes again. "Well, Lana's theory is wrong. It sure was a great theory, but Mr. Borders was shot in the back of the head, and whoever shot him used a silencer. He died about the same time as Ms. Borders."
She looked at both of them. "How do you know he used a silencer?"
"Forensics, the crime lab usually knows when they get a clean bullet from a victim. They can tell by the marks on the bullet that a silencer was used. It's not common," answered Mike.
"Is that why I didn't hear anything?"
"That's right, we would have definitely heard a gunshot."
"Is it common for a stalker to use a silencer?"
Mike promised not to lie for any reason, but he felt he should be particular about what he did say and how he said it. "Most of the time a stalker does not use a silencer, but it's not unheard of."
"Why do you think he used one this time."
This question was an easy and truthful one to answer. "He didn't want you to hear the shots."
"I'm glad I didn't hear any shots. I would have been scared, and I would have dialed 911."
Mike and Joe laughed.
"What's so funny," she asked.
"It just seems funny you have a house full of cops at your disposal, all of us are packing, and you would call 911."
"Remember the killing was last week, and you guys were not here."
Joe said, "Touché."