Until the Final Verdict by Christine McGuire Page B

it while he hurried down the hall past the empty gurneys and swung open the office door.
    Morgan Nelson removed his reading glasses, stood up, and held out his hand. “Congratulations, Dave. Katie called me last night.”
    Granz shook the water off his raincoat and draped it over a stack of banker’s boxes filled with old autopsy protocols. “I got lucky.”
    Nelson sat back down and motioned Granz to do the same. “You both did.”
    Granz studied Nelson’s face, which was even more solemn than usual. “You don’t seem that happy, Doc.”
    â€œJust tired.”
    Not much bigger than a walk-in closet, Nelson’s office contained only a desk and chair, an old wooden visitor’s chair, and a metal bookcase full of dog-eared medical references. Floor-to-ceiling shelves overflowed with diplomas, awards, newspaper clippings, forensic journals, medical paraphernalia, and specimen jars containing human brains and tissue samples preserved in formaldehyde.
    â€œSorry to ask you to come so early,” Nelson said.
    â€œNo problem. When you called at eight, I’d been at my office for over an hour, catching up on the paperwork that didn’t get done while we were in Spain. Besides, it sounded important.”
    â€œIt is. Tucker’s rape-kit results came back positive for semen on one of the vaginal swabs.”
    â€œSo, she was raped.”
    Nelson shook his head. “There were no vaginal tears, lacerations, or abrasions.”
    â€œShe had consensual sex before she was killed?”
    â€œLooks like.”
    â€œHow long before?”
    â€œDNA tests can’t tell us how old a biological sample is or when it was deposited, but sperm in the semen migrate up the ovarian tract or degrade quickly. If we recover sperm from the vagina, it’s usually not more than twenty-four to forty-eight hours old—seventy-two hours at most.”
    Nelson rubbed his bloodshot eyes, then ran a hand over the stubble on his chin, clasped his hands on his desk, and leaned forward.
    â€œThere’s more. One of the anal swabs came back positive for semen, as well.”
    â€œFrom the same sexual encounter?”
    â€œImpossible to tell. There were no tears or abrasions but the swabs also revealed traces of a lubricant, so it was probably consensual anal sex. Until the DNA test results come back, we won’t know if both deposits were left by the same man, two men, or several men. Even then it won’t be much help unless you have someone to compare.”
    Granz crossed his right leg over his left, then quickly brought Nelson up to speed on the suspicions Deputy Cruz had related to Miller.
    â€œShe had sex before she was killed,” Granz summed up, “probably with Keefe or Sanchez. I’ll get a search warrant to seize their blood standards for comparison.”
    â€œThat won’t tell you whether the man—or men—who deposited the semen murdered her. It’s possible she had sex with Keefe and Sanchez within forty-eight hours of her death, but neither killed her.”
    â€œTrue. How long before the DNA results come back?”
    â€œCould be twenty-four hours or a couple of months. Depends on whether or not the lab puts it on the back burner.”
    â€œCall Building Forty-six-A, hustle ’em up,” he told him, using cop jargon for the Department of Justice lab at 46A Research Drive.
    â€œI’ll try.”
    Granz started to stand, but Nelson motioned him to sit. “One more thing. I autopsied Simmons last night.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œNo atherosclerosis.”
    â€œGive it to me in language I understand.”
    â€œNo accumulation of plaque deposits in the lining of the arteries—no evidence of coronary heart disease, disorders of the heart valves, or diseases of the heart muscle or pericardium.”
    â€œDoesn’t make sense.”
    â€œJudging from what Katie told me, I agree. Tell me exactly what