Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 51744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Although I don’t think he imagined sharing DNA with Chance counts.
I let out a heavy sigh.
Work. I’ll focus on work. And if I can take down Chance Bridger in the process? Not a bad day.
My phone buzzes again, a number I don’t recognize.
“Marsh,” I say.
“Ms. Marsh, this is Dr. Nolan Hayes from forensics. I’ve got some news you’re going to want to hear.”
“Yeah? What have you got?”
“We took another look at the coroner’s report on the body of Joseph Hopkins and found a few things.”
My heart thuds. “Like what?”
“First of all, the autopsy was performed by the county coroner, not a medical examiner.”
“Huh? On what planet does that make sense?”
“It’s not uncommon,” Dr. Hayes continues, “in rural areas for coroners to perform an autopsy, but because the coroner in this case isn’t a medical doctor, we decided to take a second look.”
“And?”
“We were able to extract some viable DNA from beneath the victim’s fingernails.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Seriously? That could be a major clue.”
“Absolutely. First we’re checking to make sure it doesn’t belong to the victim himself, though I doubt that’s the case because the body doesn’t show any signs of deep scratches. So once we rule that out, it’s probable that the DNA belongs to his killer.”
“When will you know?” This is a great lead.
“I’ve put a rush on it, but DNA results, at the quickest, take about two business days.”
I draw in a breath. “All right. So if you find out it’s not the victim’s, which it probably isn’t, we need to get Chance Bridger’s DNA.”
“Right. He’ll have to submit to a DNA test.”
“Which he won’t do quietly,” I grumble. “We’ll probably have to get a judge to order it.”
Except…I have Chance’s DNA. Half of it, anyway. I can get it from Grady.
Jarvis arrives, sitting down across from me and lifting his eyebrows.
“Anything else, Doctor?” I ask.
“Toxicology came back negative, which I expected given the age of the body, but there was something else remarkable as well.”
“Yeah?”
“The victim is missing a portion of his liver.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Is there any chance he donated part of his liver to a relative before his death?’
“I don’t have a clue.”
“The original report indicated the scar from surgery, but nothing else. I’ve looked at his medical records, and there’s no mention of him donating for a transplant. But part of his liver is definitely gone, which means he donated pretty recently before he died. The liver will usually regenerate to its normal size within six to eight weeks after donation. Four months at max.”
“Wow. So he donated part of his liver to someone.”
“Yeah, usually to a relative, but I suppose he could have donated to anyone else who was a match.”
Jarvis raises his eyebrows at me. I must have a mystified look on my face. Admittedly, this is strange.
“This may have nothing to do with his death, though,” I say.
“Right,” Dr. Hayes agrees, “but it’s worthy of note.”
“For sure.” I clear my throat. “Let me know on the DNA as soon as you hear.”
“I will. Talk to you later.”
I end the call.
“You look like you just drank some bad wine,” Jarvis says.
I shake my head. “That was Dr. Hayes from forensics. He got some DNA from under the victim’s fingernails.”
He smiles and shares the same satisfaction as I feel about this possible lead. “Great! That could be a big help.”
“Yeah. I just have to get Chance Bridger to give us his DNA.” I roll my eyes. “No problem.”
“While he’s a prime suspect, we haven’t ruled out others who work at Bridger Ranch. Even those who worked at the trucking company with the victim.”
“I agree. Although we won’t get warrants for others’ DNA without good reason, meaning we have to connect people to the case besides being co-workers or working where the body was found. Chance Bridger’s the only one at the top of the list.”
“When I saw him this morning,” Jarvis says. “He indicated he’d cooperate. I think he just wants this over with.”
My heart flutters, but I quickly shove that shit down. “You saw him this morning?”
“Yeah. I told you I was going over there with his attorney.”
“Right.” I sigh. “My mind is…a mess. Sorry. Didn’t sleep well last night. That hotel bed sucks.”
The hotel bed does suck, but I slept fine. I grew up sleeping on two chairs pushed together. Any mattress is a boon. The truth is that my mind is a mess. Just being around Chance Bridger again has me twisted in knots.
“Sorry to hear that. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I’m good.”
“I have to tell you, Marsh. While he’s the son of Jonathan Bridger, had as much access to Bridger Corp as his father, I don’t think Chance Bridger had anything to do with this murder. I mean, would he tell me I could look at anything I wanted if he was hiding something?”