next exit off the freeway.
‘His prints were all over the apartment; he’d made no attempt to conceal his presence, but he was long gone. We checked local cameras for his movements but the guy had cut the cables
before calling us. That’s what’s so weird. He claimed that he didn’t kill his family, but this whole thing must have been set up in advance, else how could he have predicted the
phonecall, the accident, everything?’
Ethan watched palm trees flashing past against the blue sky outside. Most all people associated palms with vacations, but he’d only ever seen them against the war-scarred deserts of Iraq
or in the sweltering alleys of Colombia. He and Joanna had rarely had any downtime, travelling from one warzone to another in pursuit of the next big story. He briefly regretted that they had not
taken the chance to spend time together doing something else.
Now, here he was again beneath a burning sun and swaying palms, yet in the middle of an investigation.
‘Anything else odd that you noticed?’ he asked Sears, shaking off his reverie.
‘You mean apart from this guy predicting the future? Well, he asked us to pick up the ammunition used in the homicides and analyze them for traces of something called Rubidium-82.’
Sears leaned forward, grabbed a sheet of paper from the dash and handed it to Ethan. ‘We sent the rounds to the labs and sure enough, the compound turns up. Some kind of mildly radioactive
dye used by scientists and medical teams. Again, how could he have not committed the murders and yet know that the bullets were dipped in that dye? It doesn’t make any sense.’
Ethan looked down at the sheet of paper. Rubidium-82 was a form of rubidium chloride that contained a radioactive isotope and was used in a technique called PET perfusion imaging. Easily
absorbed by heart muscle cells, its presence helped identify regions of poor blood flow in heart muscle. A graph recorded its radioactive signature on each of the two bullet casings found at the
scene of the murders. While Ethan had heard of some killers going to extraordinary lengths to tease officers in their pursuit, leaving hints and clues behind as to their identity, he could see no
sense in leaving traces of such a material on the bullets and then blatantly informing the police of its presence. Surely doing so only risked confirming Purcell’s guilt, or at least some
kind of involvement in the crime?
‘What about the apartment?’ Lopez asked. ‘Anything there that could help us?’
Sears chuckled. ‘Oh yeah. You’re going to have to see it to believe it.’
‘People keep saying things like that,’ Ethan replied uneasily.
‘You’re sure that you’ve never met this guy Charles Purcell, right?’
‘As far as I know,’ Ethan replied. ‘The DIA checked him out and we’ve got no apparent history. Only time I ever visited Miami was on a family holiday when I was ten years
old.’
Sears nodded but said no more, guiding the Interceptor between lanes of traffic that parted before his blazing sirens and lights. A few minutes later and they pulled in alongside a cheap-looking
motel, the kind with tired, flickering neon lights over thin and unkempt lawns.
‘Not the usual haunt of a NASA scientist,’ Lopez said as she got out of the car.
One of the first-floor apartments was sealed off with ribbons of crime-scene tape that fluttered listlessly, and two uniforms guarded the entrance.
‘Crime scene and forensics been through yet?’ Ethan asked Sears as they walked across the half-empty lot toward the apartment.
‘Yeah, like I said, they found his prints everywhere but no evidence of a weapon or other residues from the homicide. If Purcell hadn’t called us we’d probably never have known
he stayed here.’
Sears waved his badge at the uniforms and they opened the apartment door for him. He gestured for Ethan to take the lead, and Ethan stepped through the doorway.
The apartment was tiny, a narrow hall
‘His prints were all over the apartment; he’d made no attempt to conceal his presence, but he was long gone. We checked local cameras for his movements but the guy had cut the cables
before calling us. That’s what’s so weird. He claimed that he didn’t kill his family, but this whole thing must have been set up in advance, else how could he have predicted the
phonecall, the accident, everything?’
Ethan watched palm trees flashing past against the blue sky outside. Most all people associated palms with vacations, but he’d only ever seen them against the war-scarred deserts of Iraq
or in the sweltering alleys of Colombia. He and Joanna had rarely had any downtime, travelling from one warzone to another in pursuit of the next big story. He briefly regretted that they had not
taken the chance to spend time together doing something else.
Now, here he was again beneath a burning sun and swaying palms, yet in the middle of an investigation.
‘Anything else odd that you noticed?’ he asked Sears, shaking off his reverie.
‘You mean apart from this guy predicting the future? Well, he asked us to pick up the ammunition used in the homicides and analyze them for traces of something called Rubidium-82.’
Sears leaned forward, grabbed a sheet of paper from the dash and handed it to Ethan. ‘We sent the rounds to the labs and sure enough, the compound turns up. Some kind of mildly radioactive
dye used by scientists and medical teams. Again, how could he have not committed the murders and yet know that the bullets were dipped in that dye? It doesn’t make any sense.’
Ethan looked down at the sheet of paper. Rubidium-82 was a form of rubidium chloride that contained a radioactive isotope and was used in a technique called PET perfusion imaging. Easily
absorbed by heart muscle cells, its presence helped identify regions of poor blood flow in heart muscle. A graph recorded its radioactive signature on each of the two bullet casings found at the
scene of the murders. While Ethan had heard of some killers going to extraordinary lengths to tease officers in their pursuit, leaving hints and clues behind as to their identity, he could see no
sense in leaving traces of such a material on the bullets and then blatantly informing the police of its presence. Surely doing so only risked confirming Purcell’s guilt, or at least some
kind of involvement in the crime?
‘What about the apartment?’ Lopez asked. ‘Anything there that could help us?’
Sears chuckled. ‘Oh yeah. You’re going to have to see it to believe it.’
‘People keep saying things like that,’ Ethan replied uneasily.
‘You’re sure that you’ve never met this guy Charles Purcell, right?’
‘As far as I know,’ Ethan replied. ‘The DIA checked him out and we’ve got no apparent history. Only time I ever visited Miami was on a family holiday when I was ten years
old.’
Sears nodded but said no more, guiding the Interceptor between lanes of traffic that parted before his blazing sirens and lights. A few minutes later and they pulled in alongside a cheap-looking
motel, the kind with tired, flickering neon lights over thin and unkempt lawns.
‘Not the usual haunt of a NASA scientist,’ Lopez said as she got out of the car.
One of the first-floor apartments was sealed off with ribbons of crime-scene tape that fluttered listlessly, and two uniforms guarded the entrance.
‘Crime scene and forensics been through yet?’ Ethan asked Sears as they walked across the half-empty lot toward the apartment.
‘Yeah, like I said, they found his prints everywhere but no evidence of a weapon or other residues from the homicide. If Purcell hadn’t called us we’d probably never have known
he stayed here.’
Sears waved his badge at the uniforms and they opened the apartment door for him. He gestured for Ethan to take the lead, and Ethan stepped through the doorway.
The apartment was tiny, a narrow hall
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