exceptionally high success rate. You don’t have to decide right now. Here’s my number. Feel free to call me anytime.” Sam gave Stryker his business card. The card had his alias, the name of his fake company, and a phone number, which belonged to one of his disposable cellphones. “When does your mother’s chemotherapy treatment end?”
“Next February.”
“Has she had surgery?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the prognosis?”
“Not very good. How many people have undergone this procedure?”
“Ten. And all of them were cured. How old is your mother?”
“Seventy-two.”
“Would you like her to live twenty-five more years?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Let us help your mother before it’s too late, Mister Stryker. Please think about it. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“I look forward to hearing from you. Have a nice day.”
They shook hands, and Sam headed for the elevators. He was proud of himself: he thought his sales pitch to Stryker had been pretty good.
Chapter 18
1
On his way to work, Mark stopped by the Dallas laboratory of Express DNA Testing Service and dropped off the sample.
When he dusted the handle of the knife sent by Chuck, Mark saw that there were fingerprints all over it. He found two full prints on one side and two on the other, and as he looked at them, his heart began to beat faster.
In less than an hour, he would know who had really murdered Helen.
Mark photographed the prints, then lifted them from the handle and placed them on backing cards.
He asked Todd Castor to run the fingerprints through the system. One match was found for the first print.
It’s Sam Curtis, Mark thought, looking at the computer screen.
Castor clicked a button, and the match’s name and photo appeared on the screen. Mark’s heart stopped for a second.
The match’s name was Edward Phillips. The man looked like the Edward Phillips convicted of Helen’s murder.
When Mark saw the match’s latest conviction, his last doubts vanished: it was that Edward Phillips.
Phillips had lied to him, and he had been stupid enough to believe this son of a bitch. He was a shitty judge of character, wasn’t he?
Thank God I didn’t waste a lot of time spying on Sam Curtis.
“Do you want a printout?” Castor asked.
“No. I know this guy,” Mark said, frowning with indignation.
I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I still don’t know if those brown stains on the blade are Helen’s blood.
Yes, he should wait until he saw the DNA test results.
Maybe Phillips got hold of the knife after the killer threw it away.
The second print belonged to Edward Phillips, too, and so did the third and the fourth.
At five o’clock Joan called Mark and asked if he had found any fingerprints on the knife.
“No, I didn’t,” Mark replied. “He must have wiped it.”
He would tell her the truth tomorrow, after he got the DNA test results.
“Phillips wrote you another letter,” Joan said.
“Open it and read it to me, please.”
Joan tore open the envelope, took out the letter, and read it to Mark: “Dear Mark, I hope this finds you well. Have you read Sam’s text messages? Have there been any new cases similar to Helen’s? Did they catch Leonard’s killer? I look forward to hearing from you.” Then she asked, “Who’s Leonard?”
“He was Phillips’s lawyer.”
“He was murdered?”
“Yes.”
“Have there been any new cases similar to Helen’s?”
“Not that I know of.”
On the way home, Mark thought: You have to be an idiot to throw away a murder weapon without wiping off your fingerprints. Edward Phillips didn’t strike him as an idiot.
2
Detective Aguero had planned to talk to Edward Phillips’s parents on Tuesday, October 24, but delayed his visit for a day because he had to interrogate two suspects in another case he was working on. He left Austin at two o’clock and arrived at the Phillipses’ house at five
“Next February.”
“Has she had surgery?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the prognosis?”
“Not very good. How many people have undergone this procedure?”
“Ten. And all of them were cured. How old is your mother?”
“Seventy-two.”
“Would you like her to live twenty-five more years?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Let us help your mother before it’s too late, Mister Stryker. Please think about it. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“I look forward to hearing from you. Have a nice day.”
They shook hands, and Sam headed for the elevators. He was proud of himself: he thought his sales pitch to Stryker had been pretty good.
Chapter 18
1
On his way to work, Mark stopped by the Dallas laboratory of Express DNA Testing Service and dropped off the sample.
When he dusted the handle of the knife sent by Chuck, Mark saw that there were fingerprints all over it. He found two full prints on one side and two on the other, and as he looked at them, his heart began to beat faster.
In less than an hour, he would know who had really murdered Helen.
Mark photographed the prints, then lifted them from the handle and placed them on backing cards.
He asked Todd Castor to run the fingerprints through the system. One match was found for the first print.
It’s Sam Curtis, Mark thought, looking at the computer screen.
Castor clicked a button, and the match’s name and photo appeared on the screen. Mark’s heart stopped for a second.
The match’s name was Edward Phillips. The man looked like the Edward Phillips convicted of Helen’s murder.
When Mark saw the match’s latest conviction, his last doubts vanished: it was that Edward Phillips.
Phillips had lied to him, and he had been stupid enough to believe this son of a bitch. He was a shitty judge of character, wasn’t he?
Thank God I didn’t waste a lot of time spying on Sam Curtis.
“Do you want a printout?” Castor asked.
“No. I know this guy,” Mark said, frowning with indignation.
I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. I still don’t know if those brown stains on the blade are Helen’s blood.
Yes, he should wait until he saw the DNA test results.
Maybe Phillips got hold of the knife after the killer threw it away.
The second print belonged to Edward Phillips, too, and so did the third and the fourth.
At five o’clock Joan called Mark and asked if he had found any fingerprints on the knife.
“No, I didn’t,” Mark replied. “He must have wiped it.”
He would tell her the truth tomorrow, after he got the DNA test results.
“Phillips wrote you another letter,” Joan said.
“Open it and read it to me, please.”
Joan tore open the envelope, took out the letter, and read it to Mark: “Dear Mark, I hope this finds you well. Have you read Sam’s text messages? Have there been any new cases similar to Helen’s? Did they catch Leonard’s killer? I look forward to hearing from you.” Then she asked, “Who’s Leonard?”
“He was Phillips’s lawyer.”
“He was murdered?”
“Yes.”
“Have there been any new cases similar to Helen’s?”
“Not that I know of.”
On the way home, Mark thought: You have to be an idiot to throw away a murder weapon without wiping off your fingerprints. Edward Phillips didn’t strike him as an idiot.
2
Detective Aguero had planned to talk to Edward Phillips’s parents on Tuesday, October 24, but delayed his visit for a day because he had to interrogate two suspects in another case he was working on. He left Austin at two o’clock and arrived at the Phillipses’ house at five
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