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“Right beside me.”
“Reese, did you take a look at the photo I sent along?”
“Yes. Looks like he managed a shower long before I did, but it’s the man who accosted me in the parking lot today.”
“McNulty lives five minutes or so from the restaurant. He denied everything, of course. Said he’d been home all day. His car was in the garage. He’d washed it, but tests showed the presence of blood on the right front fender. The left taillight was broken out. He’d run his clothes through the washer. But luminol showed the bloodstains. McNulty claimed they’re his. Said he ran into a door.”
“More like a buzz saw,” Hayes murmured.
“He got what was coming to him,” Jennings agreed. “Reese, I need you to describe what he was wearing.”
“Gray short-sleeve tee. Medium-washed jeans.” She thought for a moment. “Filthy tennis shoes. Might’ve been white at one time. Black stripes. They looked ancient.”
“That’s what we retrieved from the washer,” the sergeant said, satisfied. “We recovered the wrench from the property he drove you to. I wanted to ask about what you said this morning about him possibly being a rapist.” Reese’s hand fisted on her thigh. It was the first time she’d shown any sign of anxiousness since the detective called. “Did he say anything specific about that? Make threats? Maybe talked about what he liked to do with feisty women?”
“No.” Her fingers straightened as if she’d consciously unclenched them. “It was the way his tone altered. I just got the feeling that whatever reason he’d had for attacking me had just changed.”
“What about that abandoned building? Did you get a look at the back entrance?”
“A wooden door? No, wait.” Reese rubbed her forehead. “It was boarded up. A piece of old plywood or something.”
“Yeah, with a clasp and padlock securing both sides. The owner said he didn’t put them there. The mess of prints on the locks won’t yield anything. Did McNulty attempt to drag you toward the door? Or did you see him try to open it?”
Hayes could hear the note of weariness in Reese’s voice. “As soon as he popped the trunk, we began fighting. I assumed, since he drove us to the property, that he thought he’d have privacy there. Although I’m uncertain how he intended to get me in the structure. I sure wouldn’t have gone willingly.”
“We found a roll of duct tape in the weeds, about ten feet from the door.”
Reese swallowed hard. Hayes reached for her hand, and gave it a slight squeeze of encouragement. “Maybe the key is on the property somewhere. Accessible, but by not keeping it in his possession, it can’t be tied to him.”
Jennings grunted. “Possibly. That’ll require another search.” He had a few more questions for Reese, then ended the call after promising to keep them updated.
Her expression was troubled. “You know when you were able to pull up Kervin’s driver’s license after I talked to him that first time?”
A slight frown between his brows, Hayes nodded.
Reese turned slightly to face him. “How were you able to get into a California state database? Are you a hacker or something?”
Amusement flickered, the first hint of humor he’d experienced all day. “Adam has any number of cyber experts on his team, but in this case, hacking isn’t necessary. His agency has cooperation agreements with most states in the country, whichgrant him access to some or all of their state’s law enforcement databases.”
“Is that how you’re able to wear a concealed weapon?”
He cocked a brow at her, wondering where the queries were coming from. And why they’d occurred now. “Not exactly. Raiker insists that all of his employees be armed. Mendes had to go to the brass to pull strings to grant us the privilege as special law enforcement consultants for the Thorne case. What’s this about?”
“Do you have access to federal databases, as well?”
When he nodded, Reese asked, “Which one keeps track of similar elements in crimes?”
“You’re probably thinking of the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program—ViCAP. Even if there’s no DNA on record, the program can still display similar MOs for offenses.”
“They might get his DNA from that plastic shard I stabbed him with.”
“If they charge McNulty with a federal felony, like kidnapping, they’re allowed to take his DNA anyway. So eventually they’ll feed that into CODIS, the Combined?—”
“DNA Index System.” She pressed her fingers to her forehead again. He made a mental note to get her some pain reliever. Her head had to be pounding. “I remembered that one. He didn’t ask about it again, but I told Jennings this morning that the inner trunk release in McNulty’s vehicle didn’t work. I wondered if he’d disabled it.”
“In pursuit of similar crimes?”
Her gaze slid to his. “Kidnapping. And rape.” As if to forestall any argument he’d make, she said in a rush, “The majority of sexual assaults happen in the victim’s home. Those perpetuated by strangers are far less common. And transporting a victim has to be a statistical anomaly. At least rare enough that similar MOs in the vicinity should be looked at.”