Dust to Dust

need for an identification,” said David. “That’s how I know it’s the same. See these two chips in the heel? . . . Wait. Are you saying this isn’t a mistake?”
    “I don’t see how it could be,” said Diane. “You think Jin took the evidence out of the bags and relabeled them?”
    “No,” said David, “but I thought he was here when we were processing Marcella’s, and—”
    “You had already processed Marcella’s evidence before we collected the Stacy Dance evidence,” said Diane. “I collected these shoe prints at the Stacy Dance scene. David, you owe Jin an apology. It’s the same print as the one from Marcella’s because the same boot was at both places.”
    “What?” at least three of them said in unison.
    All four of them looked at Diane as if she had said Kendel had just returned from her trip and had brought them a unicorn skeleton.
    “What are you saying?” said David.
    “She’s saying you need to apologize,” said Jin. “Hey, you mean it’s the same guy, don’t you? Jeez, Boss, that’s weird.”
    It had taken a few seconds for it to dawn on all of them.
    “But this would connect with the Lassiter crime scene too,” said David. “The same boot print was there. I don’t understand it. The MO is too different. They don’t look anything like crimes done by the same perp. Wasn’t there a lot of postmortem staging and cleanup in the Dance murder? Didn’t it have a definite sexual aspect to it?”
    “Yes,” said Diane. “So it appeared. That’s what drew the Gainesville detective to the wrong conclusion.”
    “Well, the attack on Marcella and the murder of the Lassiter woman had no sexual component. And not much evidence of planning at all. They look like crimes by an amateur looking for loot.”
    “They would appear that way,” said Diane.
    “Do you think the Gainesville guy may have thrown away the boots by the side of the road or something and the Rosewood guy found them?” said Jin.
    “This makes no sense,” said David.
    “I agree,” said Diane. “It doesn’t seem to. We also collected evidence of rope and other fibers in the Stacy Dance murder. The rope is the same too?”
    “According to Jin’s report, it’s made of the same material,” said David.
    Diane again read through portions of Jin’s evidence report on the Stacy Dance crime scene.
    “I’ve read Marcella’s evidence report,” said Diane. “I’ve seen the blowup photographs of the fibers and read the chemical analysis of them. These fibers from the Stacy Dance scene are the same—the same dyed black wool and Manila hemp fibers. Granted, there are lots of ski masks like that and lots of rope. But you said, David, it was as if the masks and the rope were stored together. Could it be that . . .” She threw up her hands. “I can’t explain it. But this evidence described in Jin’s report is the evidence I collected at the Stacy Dance crime scene. He did not make a mistake.”
    “You going to apologize?” said Jin.
    “Sure,” said David. “Jin, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped all over you like that.”
    “I understand. I would have thought the same thing,” said Jin.
    Neva rolled her eyes.
    “I’m not sure I’m getting this,” said Izzy. “Did the same guy do all three crimes? Or are we looking for somebody who fished clothes out of the trash in Gainesville and used them in two more crimes down here? Or are we looking at some bang-up-big coincidence?”
    “I don’t know,” said Diane. “But if we can find Marcella’s attacker, or the Lassiter murderer, we can ask them where they shop. In the meantime, I guess I need to ask Hanks to come to the meeting too.”
    Diane set up the meeting in the basement conference room near the DNA lab. She was holding it away from the crime lab to distance her involvement in Kingsley’s case as far as possible from the jurisdiction of Rosewood. The conference room had a large round table with a white quartz top and comfortable chairs. Jin had picked out the furniture for the room. She wasn’t sure why he wanted white, but it was a pretty table—one that King Arthur would have liked.
    Diane asked her policemen bodyguards to be present. She didn’t quite trust Oran Doppelmeyer to remain civilized. There must be more to their history than Lynn Webber had told her. The policemen seemed pleased to actually be involved in what was going on, rather than just sitting on the sidelines in case something should happen. They were also