Ty came into Cole’s office and Cole lifted his head, yawning. He leaned back and stretched. He’d been named the Special Agent in Charge of the Milwaukee Field Office five years earlier, and it was unusual that a SAC would directly investigate a crime, even one as high profile as the murder of a reproductive rights physician. But Cole did a great job developing the agents and analysts under him, and the Milwaukee office had become a kind of farm system for FBI offices in LA, New York, Chicago, and DC. His assistant SAC had just been lured to Phoenix, and he’d also recently lost two senior special agents to San Francisco and New York. Besides, he took the job with assurances from his bosses that he could continue to work cases from time to time. This seemed like the time.
“We’ve got the name and address of the guy who bought the rifle,” Ty announced. He’d been assigned by Milwaukee PD to assist on the case until the Feds could redeploy more resources. “He’s from Southern Illinois, Centralia, a little town about sixty miles east of St. Louis. I called the St. Louis field office and they sent two guys out to pick him up. Nobody answered his home phone, so he’s probably at work. St. Louis did a background check and there’s nothing exotic there. The guy is employed at a local grain elevator. If he’s not home they’ll pick him up at work. They know the town a bit and said it takes about two minutes to drive from one end to the other, so the whole operation won’t take that long.”
“Good stuff,” Cole said, “but I doubt it’ll lead anywhere.”
“Why? Maybe the killer’s a nut job who wants to be caught, someone who wants his fifteen minutes of fame.”
“If that was the case, why didn’t he stay on that roof and wave to us after he killed Smith?”
“Maybe he was scared or sloppy. I don’t know. I’m not psycho enough to figure it out.”
Cole smiled and let out a sad laugh. “But you think maybe I am psycho enough? All I’m saying is that it would be nice if this guy was the murderer, so we could wrap a nice bow around this crappy package and get it behind us.” He looked up at Ty and leaned back even further in his chair, almost falling before catching himself. “I have a feeling it’s not going to be that easy…not by a long shot. Pun intended.” He sighed. “Anything on the crucifix yet?”
“No DNA. The shooter wore gloves and if he ever touched the cross with bare hands he wiped it well enough afterward.”
“Not a dead end yet, but also not a road that’s going to lead us anywhere any time soon. And what the hell is up with the lab? We should’ve had the blood type back at least within a half-hour of CSI arriving on the scene. And we haven’t heard from them yet.”
“They actually called in a report on the blood,” Ty said. “Right before I knocked on your door.”
“And?”
“They said it isn’t human.”