"We've got another problem," Michael said to Detective Chambers the next morning. He'd been at the police station reviewing the tapes of Mickey confessing to the killings and poring over the final autopsy report.
"What's up?"
He told Chambers about the knife and the two men agreed that it was a concern.
"I'm going to interview Mickey again, so I want to go over the case, review the tapes."
"Be my guest," Chambers said, ushering Michael into a room where he could view the tapes and read over the case file.
While Michael restarted the video, he thought there was something off about Mickey's confession. Michael couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt unsure about the ease with which Mickey admitted that he'd killed the two men. The only evidence they had was one boot print in blood. If Mickey had actually done the killings, there should have been more of him at the scene and more of the scene on him. In his vehicle. In his home. Mickey would have had blood all over him, his clothes, his skin, his beard, his hair. In his house, there should have been blood somewhere. Yes, time had passed since the killing and the time Mickey was officially charged with murder, but the forensic team had gone to his house and had found nothing.
Nothing.
Not even any blood in the shower where he said he'd washed after he returned home.
When asked where the clothes were that he wore that night, he said he'd disposed of them in a place no one would find. They would be long gone now, and they couldn’t even torture the information out of him, because he wouldn’t know.
That angered Michael. He'd never tortured anyone to get information. Sure, Michael understood that Mickey had a negative view of police, especially after a lifetime of engaging in law breaking as a member of a biker gang, even if he had redeemed himself and now worked to help stop crime by helping street kids.
But there should have been more of Mickey at the cabin, more of the men's blood in his vehicle and home.
There wasn't.
All they had was one boot print and a confession.
Mickey seemed righteous as he sat in the interview room at the police station and answered the detective's questions. Like he'd done something heroic.
Sure, killing the two men -- both apparently sexually abusing Sadie on camera and probably guilty of any number of crimes against children -- might have been seen as a classic example of vigilante justice. Mickey was even the type to engage in vigilante justice, having turned his life around and now being quite religious, if one believed him and those who worked for him. He'd found Jesus in prison and had accepted Him as his savior. He did good deeds on the outside, spending his profits from the bar on street kids.
But still...
Something did not sit right with Michael as he watched Mickey talk about the killing.
"How did you do it?" Detective Chambers said, urging Mickey to describe the scene one more time.
Mickey sighed heavily, like this was a burden. "I told you already three times. I grabbed a knife from my pocket and I just fell on the guy on the sofa who was in the middle of molesting Sadie. I saw black when I realized what he was doing and just stabbed and stabbed and slashed. I don't know how many times. Then, I slashed at the other guy who was standing there, naked, watching. I initially knocked him down but when he got up, I slashed him and chased him, stabbing him on the way to the outhouse. When I pushed the door open, I stabbed him again too many times to count. Then, when he collapsed on the floor, I lifted the lid and dumped him inside. Then, I cleaned up after myself. I disposed of the knife and changed clothes and Rachel took them with her. I showered at the depot and then went home. That was it."
Michael shook his head. For someone who had just killed two men violently, Mickey had appeared to be relatively calm when he showed back up at the bar.
He went over the report from the detectives who spoke with Mickey's staff after he confessed. According to them, Mickey seemed fine when he came to the bar to close it up. They were as shocked as Michael was that Mickey confessed to killing the two men.
"If he did it, he did it to save that little girl's life," one of them said. "He's as gentle as a kitten."
Michael didn't see Mickey as being gentle as a kitten. He was a man who used violence in the past to settle disputes. He could completely believe that Mickey killed the two men, so it wasn't that which kept Michael from feeling good about the case.
It was the lack of evidence. There was just no way that anyone could so completely erase all trace of themselves at a crime scene -- not given modern forensic capabilities. A crime scene as violent and messy as the cabin at Silver Lake would have trace hair, trace fibers, trace DNA, trace blood, fingerprints...
He watched as Mickey signed the statement and then ran the tape back and re-watched it.
Then he re-watched it one more time.
While Mickey was signing, someone knocked at the door and the detective turned to answer so he didn’t see it.
Mickey signed with his left hand…
He picked up his cell and dialed Dr. Keller's office.
When her admin answered, Michael gave his name and asked to speak with her.
"Just a moment," the admin said and in about thirty seconds, Dr. Keller came on the line.
"Hey, Michael. What can I do for you?"
Michael took in a deep breath. "The stab wounds of the two men killed at the cabin near Silver Lake. The autopsy report said it was a right-handed killer, but is there any reason a left-handed man would use his right hand to commit a murder?"
“Usually, a right-handed person would use his right hand to commit a murder.”
"There’s no chance you were wrong on that?”
“Hold on," she replied, and Michael waited for a moment. He heard sounds of a drawer opening and paper shuffling. Then, she came back on the line.
"Definitely looks like right-handed, based on the angle of the wounds and the focus on the right side of the bodies. Yes, clearly right-handed."
Michael sighed and a shock went through him.
"Mickey's left-handed."
"What?" Dr. Keller said, her voice shocked.
"Yes, unfortunately. I'm watching the video of him signing his statement and he's definitely left-handed."
There was a pause on the other line for a brief moment. "I suppose he could have used his right hand, but it wouldn't be natural for him to do so. Did he have any injury that might have prevented him from using his right hand to sign?"
"Not that I know of. I'll have to talk to the detectives. I'm surprised they didn't call you already about this, but it appears they didn’t see him actually sign."
"Maybe they were all too happy to have a confession and didn't look much beyond it. They had a boot print, right? That and a confession would be enough in any other case where there were no other suspects."
"There was another man at the scene at some point in the evening," Michael said. "The one who attacked me and stole the memory card I found in the fire pit. Claimed to be a reporter but our records suggest he's really from the Bellingham area. Maybe he killed them, and then called in the lights left on at the crime scene. But why would Mickey confess to killing the men if he didn't?"
"Would he confess to protect the man who did kill them? Maybe it was someone who knew Rachel and Sadie and Mickey wanted to protect them? Maybe Mickey is protecting that man, whoever he is."
"I have no idea and we haven't been able to locate him. He's taken off, left town. We still don't even have an ID on the John Doe or a real ID for Rachel and Sadie yet. All we know is that Rachel was John Doe's daughter and so was Sadie."
"What a nasty business," Dr. Keller said, her voice sounding tired. "I'm at a loss to explain it. There are clear defensive wounds on the John Doe's hand and arms, indicating he was attacked frontally by someone with a knife. Unless there was some reason he couldn't use his dominant hand, I can't explain it. It's a real mystery."
"You got that right," Michael replied and rubbed his chin. "Clearly, John Doe had been abusing Rachel when she was thirteen and got pregnant with her own father's child. But who are these people? We have to find out so we can see if there are any other victims."
"I'm glad I just have to deal with the bodies. You have to deal with the living," Dr. Keller said and sighed.
They spoke for a moment longer about the stab wounds and whether there was any chance they were inflicted by a left-handed assailant.
"Like I said, if he couldn't use his dominant hand for some reason, he might have used his right hand. That might explain why the stab wounds weren't as deep as I would think they would be, considering how heavy-set Mickey is."
"That's true," Michael said. "I thought maybe it was because he didn't really have a personal relationship with the victims. He was just trying to stop them, although even he said he lost control and stabbed them too many times to count."
"Let me know if you get anything else out of Mickey about the handedness thing," Dr. Keller said. "I'll be interested to know if he did use his right hand. It'll be something to add to my lectures when I teach this fall."
"I will," Michael said. "Thanks for the time and your advice."
"Don't mention it," she replied.
Michael ended the call and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head at this new development.
He picked up the phone on his desk and called over to Nick's office.
"Hey, Boss," he said when Nick answered. "We need to talk."
"That doesn't sound good. Have you already talked to Mickey?"
"No, not yet. I've been reading over his files and the ME's final report. There's a discrepancy I think we need to talk about."
"Come on down," Nick said. "My door is always open."
"Be right there," Michael said.
Michael took his Jeep back to the DA's and went right to Nick's office. Nick was on the phone, so Michael popped his head in, just in case Nick was involved in a private conversation that had to stay that way.
When Nick saw Michael, he waved him inside and pointed to a chair.
"Yes, will do. He'll be over tomorrow. Thanks."
Nick hung up his phone and turned to Michael, his expression interested.
"What's up?"
"Mickey's left-handed."
"And let me guess -- the ME's report would indicate that the killer is right-handed."
Michael nodded. "Sadly, yes."
Nick sighed heavily. "So, what do we do now? Besides talk to Mickey, of course."
"I spoke with Dr. Keller about it," Michael replied. "She says to check whether Mickey had an injury to his left hand that might have meant he had to use his right. That would be the only reason she could see it happening. Unless he's ambidextrous or there was some reason why he couldn't use his dominant hand. Usually, a killer would default to their dominant hand. They're more in control that way."
"I'm surprised Chambers didn't ask Mickey to describe how he killed the two men and we had it on tape him using his left hand to show how he stabbed them. I imagine they were so happy to get a signed confession that they didn't question him any further. He said enough of the right things to satisfy them that he did it."
"Why would they doubt it?" Michael asked. "He has a criminal record, was at the scene, and admitted to killing them to protect Rachel and rescue Sadie. It would be hard not to accept his story."
"I'm inclined to agree. I was suspicious once I heard Mickey went out that night with Rachel. When his boot print showed up at the scene, it was a pretty open and shut case. He had a motive -- rescue Sadie from the clutches of men who were filming pornography and assaulting her. When he confessed," Nick said with a shrug. "I heaved a sigh of relief. One more case wrapped up -- almost with a bow."
Michael sat thinking for a moment. "The only other scenario I could believe is that Mickey didn't do it. Robinson might have done it. He knew there was incriminating evidence at the crime scene. Maybe Mickey was there with Rachel after the fact, but he didn't actually do the killing. That would explain why we didn't find much if any trace evidence at his place. He didn't have blood all over him."
"But why lie, in that case? To protect Robinson? Why would he do that? Who is Robinson to him?"
"I have no idea. That's what I'd like to ask Mickey, but I wanted to come and speak with you first, strategize. What do you want me to do?"
Nick shrugged and closed a file on his desk.
"I don't want to do anything too soon. We need to go back over everything one more time. Maybe you need to sit down with Mickey once more and get him to describe the crime. Have him act it out. That may give us the opening to challenge him on the stab wounds."
"Sounds good to me. Do you want me to do the questioning or Chambers?"
"You do it on the premise that we need him to practice his confession for the plea deal. I'll call over to the jail and set something up. In the meantime, go over all the forensic evidence once more. Talk to the crime lab about the ID on John Doe. They were going to use the Ancestry database to see if they could find some close relatives and triangulate on his ID that way. I don't understand how this guy has no government identity at all. No driver's license, no social security, nothing. Is he Canadian or something?"
"Silver Lake is pretty close to the border. Maybe he came across at some point and never went back. Got fake ID and has been cruising as a US citizen ever since. Based on what I read, there are sixty thousand Canadians who have overstayed their visas in the US at the moment."
"Sixty thousand? Jesus..."
"At least they're polite," Michael said with a grin.
Nick laughed at that. "Talk to your counterparts in the Canadian system and see if his DNA turns up anything there."
"Will do," Michael said and stood up when he saw that Nick had opened a different file.
"Thanks, Michael. Glad you're on this case. Your eye for detail is appreciated."
"Glad to be here," Michael replied.
It was the truth.
He returned to his desk and opened up his contacts, searching for one in the Canadian federal police system he'd worked with in past cases that crossed the border.
Maybe, just maybe, they'd be able to help ID John Doe.