Broken Witness
Chapter Three...
Chapter Three...
Grouped back in Stella’s personal office in the headquarters of the FBI in Chicago Illinois, McLuskie, Rolfe and Stella sat around a small coffee table each with separate cups of coffee, curtosey of the only female on the team, Taylor McLuskie. The conversation had been much less a conversation than a bunch of words which made no sense to the young Ryan Rolfe whose second hand Acer laptop sat on the table, a identity scanning programme open searching for details on their victim, Tamsy Horton. So far, it all seemed very interesting.
Stella had obviously noticed the interest growing the boys eyes, pupils widening as he scan read the documents in front of him for important and interesting information on the female victim. “You found something Rolfe?”
“Sir, it might not be relivant.”
“Anything’s relevant.”
“Okay, well. I was looking over her rap sheet, which by the way she has.”
“So she had a record? Okay, what for?”
“Only petty crimes, like theft.”
“Theft, its strange how a crime which doesn’t kill anyone in most cases but still devastates lives to a high level is, in this country along with most classed as what we call on a regular basis, petty crime. What she steal?”~
“Jewellery mainly, she did three years in Valley State Prison, that’s a womens prison.”
“I worked out as much considering she was female. And Rolfe, we aren’t looking at her as a suspect, she’s dead.”
“Well I was getting there, she then moved to Chicago upon release and didn’t return home.”
“How long ago was that?”
“She was released... In 2004 sir.”
McLuskie interrupted. “And children?”
“She has none,”
“So where did the boys come from?”
“Her sister it seems, Mia Horton, Married to a naval Marine, Sergeant David Nelson.”
“They were her children?”
“She had twin boys, Donovan and Jock Nelson, and our Serg? He’s ginger sir.”
“Does he have a record?”
“I brought him up on the system but no, nothing on previous offenses and no rap sheet.”
“Okay so we’ll go on that, but take note, No record under no circumstances means ‘No crimes’ it just means, smart or lucky.” Rolfe’s comment that the perp could be indeed both smart and lucky went ignored by the older Agents as the door opened and a silver haired man in a particularly unfortunate burgundy shirt under a white jacket entered the room.
“About time, Rich, what we got on the hair?”
“Male, adult, I cant give a definite age, the aging of the roots in the hair suggest to me, your suspects around... 30’s mid to late. I wouldn’t say older. Its hard, it was dyed, no natural hair colour could be picked up, it’s not that helpful Im sure Agent Stella, if I could have a small while longer, I might be able to strip the colour and try again.”
“Take as long as you need, that hair is yours, make love to it, sing to it at night if it will help, just get me what you ca n on our perp, and Rolfe. I want a list of males, that age group known to be capable of murder in the area. Bring it up. I want to look.”
“We know he wont have been caught before.”
“We can hope McLuskie. We can hope. Thank you Rich.” A look from Rolfe showed the clear envy, expressing his wish to also receive gratitude from the Agent, Stella sighed. "Thank you Ryan, Rich couldn't have done it without you." The forensics expert smiled and nodded leaving the room. Rolfe looked at Stella critically knowing his compliment was completely feigned, he never meant it.
"You get that list?"
"Yes sir. There are 73 people with naturally ginger hair whom are reported capable of homicide in the chicago area, I eliminated them, leaving a list of around 250 people, females eliminated means-"
"I'm not in the least interested how you got to the result, how many suspects are on the list."
"I've narrowed it down to 50, 20 in the local perimeter, not including violent gangs or organised crime." Stella nodded in approval, this time genuine. Rolfe was proud, only momentarily. His glory killed by Taylor McLuskie.
"Well done, and it doesn't seem like organised crime or gang work, I'll admit, but what's to say a ginger person cannot dye their hair ginger? Rich said aging, not another colour."
"So add ginger's back in. See how many."
"I preferred the previous number, 35 in the local area."
"And Chicago?"
"75, Illinois, 122."
"Damn.. McLuskie, call down to Rich, was the hair dyed over ginger or another colour?"
She took out her phone and made the call to the scientist down in the forensics lab three floors below where they were seated, the call took only a couple of minutes it seemed an agonizingly long time to the men.
"Thank you Rich." She disconnected and looked at Stella. "It seems the hair is naturally Brown, dark. Bleached and dyed. He found ammonia from the colouring, Hydrogen Peroxide. H2O2, for the bleach."
"Dark brown roots?"
"Fading, but yeh."
"That takes us to 12 people in the Chicago area, 35 in Illinois and 3 in a five mile radius."
"Names of those three."
"Thomas Johnson, serving a life sentence,.Johnathon Kingston.and Marcel Francis."
"Francis, whats his first name?"
"Marcel."
"Run him."
"Marcel Virgil Francis. 34, born in France and moved to Illinois with his father in 1972, the same year in which he was born, expelled from high school in the 80's due to violent behaviour toward female students."
"Any convictions?"
"Assault, though charges were dropped. He's been missing from his home in North Chicago for a year now, his girlfriend was found murdered shortly after his father died from cancer and his mother killed herself, her daughter too."
"He has a record. Got a picture?"
"Sir." Rolfe turned the screen, Stella was looking into the eyes of the man whom had killed his wife, with only one difference. They were colder than they had been that night.
Grouped back in Stella’s personal office in the headquarters of the FBI in Chicago Illinois, McLuskie, Rolfe and Stella sat around a small coffee table each with separate cups of coffee, curtosey of the only female on the team, Taylor McLuskie. The conversation had been much less a conversation than a bunch of words which made no sense to the young Ryan Rolfe whose second hand Acer laptop sat on the table, a identity scanning programme open searching for details on their victim, Tamsy Horton. So far, it all seemed very interesting.
Stella had obviously noticed the interest growing the boys eyes, pupils widening as he scan read the documents in front of him for important and interesting information on the female victim. “You found something Rolfe?”
“Sir, it might not be relivant.”
“Anything’s relevant.”
“Okay, well. I was looking over her rap sheet, which by the way she has.”
“So she had a record? Okay, what for?”
“Only petty crimes, like theft.”
“Theft, its strange how a crime which doesn’t kill anyone in most cases but still devastates lives to a high level is, in this country along with most classed as what we call on a regular basis, petty crime. What she steal?”~
“Jewellery mainly, she did three years in Valley State Prison, that’s a womens prison.”
“I worked out as much considering she was female. And Rolfe, we aren’t looking at her as a suspect, she’s dead.”
“Well I was getting there, she then moved to Chicago upon release and didn’t return home.”
“How long ago was that?”
“She was released... In 2004 sir.”
McLuskie interrupted. “And children?”
“She has none,”
“So where did the boys come from?”
“Her sister it seems, Mia Horton, Married to a naval Marine, Sergeant David Nelson.”
“They were her children?”
“She had twin boys, Donovan and Jock Nelson, and our Serg? He’s ginger sir.”
“Does he have a record?”
“I brought him up on the system but no, nothing on previous offenses and no rap sheet.”
“Okay so we’ll go on that, but take note, No record under no circumstances means ‘No crimes’ it just means, smart or lucky.” Rolfe’s comment that the perp could be indeed both smart and lucky went ignored by the older Agents as the door opened and a silver haired man in a particularly unfortunate burgundy shirt under a white jacket entered the room.
“About time, Rich, what we got on the hair?”
“Male, adult, I cant give a definite age, the aging of the roots in the hair suggest to me, your suspects around... 30’s mid to late. I wouldn’t say older. Its hard, it was dyed, no natural hair colour could be picked up, it’s not that helpful Im sure Agent Stella, if I could have a small while longer, I might be able to strip the colour and try again.”
“Take as long as you need, that hair is yours, make love to it, sing to it at night if it will help, just get me what you ca n on our perp, and Rolfe. I want a list of males, that age group known to be capable of murder in the area. Bring it up. I want to look.”
“We know he wont have been caught before.”
“We can hope McLuskie. We can hope. Thank you Rich.” A look from Rolfe showed the clear envy, expressing his wish to also receive gratitude from the Agent, Stella sighed. "Thank you Ryan, Rich couldn't have done it without you." The forensics expert smiled and nodded leaving the room. Rolfe looked at Stella critically knowing his compliment was completely feigned, he never meant it.
"You get that list?"
"Yes sir. There are 73 people with naturally ginger hair whom are reported capable of homicide in the chicago area, I eliminated them, leaving a list of around 250 people, females eliminated means-"
"I'm not in the least interested how you got to the result, how many suspects are on the list."
"I've narrowed it down to 50, 20 in the local perimeter, not including violent gangs or organised crime." Stella nodded in approval, this time genuine. Rolfe was proud, only momentarily. His glory killed by Taylor McLuskie.
"Well done, and it doesn't seem like organised crime or gang work, I'll admit, but what's to say a ginger person cannot dye their hair ginger? Rich said aging, not another colour."
"So add ginger's back in. See how many."
"I preferred the previous number, 35 in the local area."
"And Chicago?"
"75, Illinois, 122."
"Damn.. McLuskie, call down to Rich, was the hair dyed over ginger or another colour?"
She took out her phone and made the call to the scientist down in the forensics lab three floors below where they were seated, the call took only a couple of minutes it seemed an agonizingly long time to the men.
"Thank you Rich." She disconnected and looked at Stella. "It seems the hair is naturally Brown, dark. Bleached and dyed. He found ammonia from the colouring, Hydrogen Peroxide. H2O2, for the bleach."
"Dark brown roots?"
"Fading, but yeh."
"That takes us to 12 people in the Chicago area, 35 in Illinois and 3 in a five mile radius."
"Names of those three."
"Thomas Johnson, serving a life sentence,.Johnathon Kingston.and Marcel Francis."
"Francis, whats his first name?"
"Marcel."
"Run him."
"Marcel Virgil Francis. 34, born in France and moved to Illinois with his father in 1972, the same year in which he was born, expelled from high school in the 80's due to violent behaviour toward female students."
"Any convictions?"
"Assault, though charges were dropped. He's been missing from his home in North Chicago for a year now, his girlfriend was found murdered shortly after his father died from cancer and his mother killed herself, her daughter too."
"He has a record. Got a picture?"
"Sir." Rolfe turned the screen, Stella was looking into the eyes of the man whom had killed his wife, with only one difference. They were colder than they had been that night.