Part 22 (1/2)
”And what about the swatch?” I said. ”Do you still have it?”
Moncata flashed another quick grin. ”Thought you might ask that.” He pulled up a thick case file from the floor and dug through it. ”Here she is.”
The swatch was a ragged piece of washed-out fabric, maybe an inch square, covered in pencil marks and sealed up in a plastic bag.
”As you can see, pieces have been cut out,” Moncata said.
”Can I touch it?” I said.
”Just don't take it out of the bag.”
I picked up the Baggie and stared at the tiny piece of cloth, wondering what the h.e.l.l I'd hoped was going to happen. Then I handed it to Havens, who seemed equally at sea.
”No easy answers, huh?” Moncata returned the swatch to the file and folded his hands over it. He glanced expectantly, first at me, then at Havens. We had nothing. The scientist didn't seem surprised. ”Maybe you should just tell me what this is all about.”
”We think Harrison might have been framed,” I said.
”I figured that much. Why?”
I explained about the ministry's inventory log. And Grace's recollection of the surgical scrubs Harrison was wearing on the night he was arrested. Moncata rubbed his lower lip with his thumb while I talked. When I'd finished, he flipped open the doc.u.ment binder again. This time he took out a one-page report from the Chicago PD. At the top were the words CHAIN OF CUSTODY LOG in large block letters.
”This came with the swatch. It establishes chain of custody. In this case, it indicates the defendant was wearing jeans on the night he was arrested. And the sample we have came from those jeans.”
”Not according to Grace,” I said.
”Unfortunately, the world doesn't spin according to Grace.”
”You said yourself the case bothered you,” Havens said.
”Lots of cases bother me, but that doesn't really matter.”
”Why not?” I said.
”Because science is science. And when it's the science of DNA, there's not a lot of wiggle room.”
”What if someone took the blood from Skylar Wingate's body after he was dead,” I said. ”Sprinkled it on the jeans.”
”What if they did? Blood's blood. Whether the person is alive or dead, I have no real way of knowing.”
”So there's no way to tell if this stuff was planted?”
Moncata twitched his lips at the last word and scratched an ear. Just then his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, then back at us. ”You guys mind waiting outside? I've got to take this.”
We sat in an empty hallway. A man and a woman in lab coats walked by. Then another man with a gun on his belt. No one gave us a second look.
”What do you think about Moncata?” Havens said.
”Seems like a good guy.”
”Should we tell him about the Street Ministry burning down?”
”h.e.l.l, no.”
We were quiet for a bit more.
”I'm gonna tell him about the other old cases,” Havens said. ”Scranton and Allen.”
”Why?”
”I think they're all connected.”
”What if they are? There's nothing he can do. Let's stick to the jeans.”
Things got quiet again. This time I broke the silence.
”How was the boat?”
A shrug. ”Good time. You should have come.”
I tried to catch his eyes, but Havens kept them glued to the floor.
”You guys out late?” I said.
Just then the door opened. Moncata swept us back in with a hand.
”Sorry. Like I said, busy day.” He didn't offer us a seat this time. The man was in wrap-up mode and didn't try to hide it. ”I'm gonna have to hustle you guys out of here, but let's do this. I'll take a look at the material we have from Harrison. Run a few tests. See if anything interesting shakes out. No promises. In fact, I'm pretty sure we'll turn up nothing. But I won't charge the school for the work and maybe you'll learn something. Fair enough?”
I reached out and shook his hand. ”Thanks so much, Mr. Moncata.”
”Sam.”
I took a card from a holder on his desk. ”If it's okay, I'll e-mail you our contact info. We'll follow up next week?”
”Great.” Moncata started herding us toward the door. Havens, however, wasn't budging.
”Actually, Sam, I've got one more question.”
Moncata checked his watch.
”It won't take a second,” Havens said.
Moncata shook his head. ”Not a great time, son.”
Havens ignored him. ”We think there might be two other old cases that are linked to Harrison.”
”Write it up and send it to me,” Moncata said, now literally pus.h.i.+ng us, albeit gently, out of his life.