I watched, fascinated as a mist slowly filled the chamber. “How long does it take?”
“About five minutes, but then you have to wait for it to vent. Like I said, much better than the fish tank method, where we basically had to yank the cover off and run to keep from inhaling toxic fumes.”
A short while later the lights turned green, and Sean carefully removed the watch. He peered at it through a magnifying glass, nodding.
“Well, there’s a beautiful print on the watch,” he said, to my delight. “I can definitely run that through AFIS.”
I watched in rapt fascination as Sean proceeded to powder the print, pull it off with a piece of sticky paper that I learned was called a lifter, photograph the print that came off onto the lifter, and then transfer the digital image into a computer. From there he pulled the image of the print up on the screen and began marking the enlarged print with red dots—which he explained were “points”; places where ridges ended, came together, separated, or simply made dots.
It looked awesome and, at the same time, tedious as hell.
“Who is this guy supposed to be again?” Sean asked as he submitted the fingerprint with all its marked points into the database.
Ben glanced down at the file. “Norman Kearny.” He rattled off the date of birth and social security number. “He should have prints in the system since all employees at NuQuesCor have to get a background check.”
Sean tapped a few more keys. “Yeah, here are his prints.” His eyes flicked back and forth on the screen, then his forehead puckered in a frown. “But the print on the watch doesn’t match them.”
An electric thrill ran through me as Ben let out a low whistle. “Angel,” he said, “I’m damn glad I humored you.”
I managed a weak smile.
Sean glanced over his shoulder. “Now we simply have to find out who it does match.”
“And where’s the real Norman Kearny?” I added.
Ben grimaced. “Damn good question.”
My patience had a hard time enduring all the waiting that was apparently a big factor in crime scene forensics. I fidgeted while things flashed on the computer screen. I could only assume something was happening.
After about ten minutes my wait paid off. “Well, that’s odd,” I heard Sean murmur.
“You got something?” Ben asked, leaning forward to peer at the monitor. I did too, though all I saw was two big fingerprints with a bunch of dots all over them. I had no idea what any of it meant.
“Well, I think so,” said Sean. “I mean, this sure as hell looks like a match.” He continued to click things. “I have well over ten points matched already. As far as I can tell this is your guy.”
“Great!” Ben said. “What’s so odd about it?”
Sean leaned back in the chair and shoved both hands through his hair. “I saw the body on the scene. He looked like he was in his sixties at least, right?”
We both nodded, but a knot began to form in my gut.
“Well, just for starters, the guy who matches that print would be forty-three years old.”
Ben shook his head. “That has to be a typo.”
Sean pivoted to a different computer. “Nope, his other records also have that same date of birth.”
“Maybe he looks really old for his age,” I offered. “Or perhaps the print is from someone else. I mean, maybe someone grabbed the watch or something.”
Sean shrugged. “It’s possible, but that’s not the only thing that’s fucked up. Take a look at this guy’s name.”
Ben and I leaned in to read the name off his screen.
“That’s impossible,” Ben blurted while I could only stare.
I’d wanted some sort of confirmation that the guy was a zombie, but this didn’t make any sense at all. The name that matched the fingerprints was Zeke Lyons—who’d been decapitated by Ed Quinn about a month ago. He was a zombie. But he was a dead zombie. How could his prints get on that watch?
“There’s a mix-up with the evidence,” Ben said, shaking his head. “This can’t be the watch of the guy who died out at the lab.”