has just left a partial palm print on some surface, you can at least get a fair comparison. It was also for normal ID purposes, since our victim was without his face.
“And AFIS as soon as possible,” she said. AFIS stands for Automated Fingerprint Identification System. Its computerized database is composed of links to FBI, state, local, and independent databases. If a set of prints has been recorded, AFIS can retrieve it, identify the owner, automatically link with the Computerized Criminal History system, and get any criminal record from CCH within seconds. It was a great system. They also make a portable print scanner, but Iowa hadn’t chosen to provide one of those to its lab crews. Therefore, they had to do an old-fashioned ink and roll job, and then take the prints to a regional console. It was still a tremendous improvement over the old method where you had to have a suspect, and then the records were searched on that name. Those old manual searches made it impossible to obtain an ID from prints alone, simply because of the manpower required to search the millions of records.
“I wish this was happening about four years from now,” said Bob. “The Iowa Laboratories facility ought to be up and running by then.” He said it in a dreamy sort of voice.
The new facility was scheduled to have the DCI labs, the University of Iowa Hygienic Lab, the state medical examiner’s lab, and the Department of Agriculture labs all under one roof, in Ankeny, Iowa. As opposed to today, where items that needed the attention of more than one lab could take hours just to transfer from one location to another. He was right; it would have been nice.
At this stage of the crime scene investigation, standard procedure was to allow the DCI lab team to do their thing with the collection and inventory of the evidence. It’s the most effective way, and they do it much better if we don’t interfere. So, since we were effectively done at the crime scene, Hester and I walked up to my car to discuss things. We didn’t want to be overheard.
“If it’s dope-related, or gang-related,” she said, “we might get a tumble pretty quick. They do things like this to get a message out. We should hear pretty fast if that’s what’s going on.”
“As long as they want to get the message out around here,” I said. “If they’re trying to send a message to this guy’s cousin in Cincinnati, we’re sort of out of the loop.”
“Well, yes.” She was making an entry in her Palm Pilot. Something else I was going to have to get.
“You like those?”
“Ummm… you bet,” she said, closing the little cover. “Downloads right into my PC. Wonderful thing.” She slipped it in the pocket of her slacks. “Just get a rechargeable one, not the AAA-battery kind. Much more convenient.”
“You know of any DNE undercover stuff under way up here that I don’t?”
“Nope. Just Harlan and Feinberg working the meth buys.”
I thought for a second. “It sure looks dope-related, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not quite convinced yet, though.” I looked at her. “How about you?”
“Not yet,” she said. “I’m at least open to suggestions.”
We decided to head on in to Battenberg, and have a chat with Hank Granger, the rural mail carrier the ambulance crew had met on their way to the crime scene. He probably wasn’t going to be a gold mine of information, but he seemed like a good place to start.
“Hey, you know, Hester,” I said, “in all the time we’ve worked together, this is the first time you’ve actually been in our office when we got one of these calls.”
“And it was truly exciting, Houseman.” She grinned. “I just love driving in dust clouds.”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.”
“I’ll get even, sooner or later,” she said.
At that point, Jacob Heinman came over to us. “Deputy?”
“Yeah, Jacob. You remember something else? “I always hope.
He gave us that shy smile of his, and said, “Nope. But me and Norris just wanted you to know… that ticket at the accident.”
“Yes?”
“Well, we don’t hold it against you. I mean we know you were just doing your job.”
“Well, thanks, Jacob. I appreciate that.”
“We still think,” he added hastily, “that that bus was in the wrong. But it’s okay with us, anyway. You did what you thought was right.”
“I always try,” I said. “Thanks.” I thought his concession was sort of Nation County’s legacy from the 9/11 attack. I was touched.
“What was that about? “asked Hester, when he’d moved back down the road toward Lamar.
I told her about the accident, and his statement.
“I think he’s right,” she said. “How on earth could you give a sweetheart like that a ticket?”
“Don’t go there, Hester. I’ve had a long day.”
“You old grump.”
IT WAS TIME TO RETHINK OUR OPTIONS.
Now that the people who were shooting at us were fairly sure that we were in the barn, the main problem with our position was this: Both of our exits were covered from the area of the shed and chicken coop, where the bad guys were positioned, and the whole area from the barn to the road could be covered by somebody up in the old concrete silo. The barn’s main door faced directly at the shed. Anybody trying to leave by that door stood a very good chance of being shot before they even got out of the damned barn. The second door, the old one with the daylight showing at all edges, would allow one or two of us to get out of the barn itself without being seen. Well, assuming that the people who were trying to kill us remained in the shed or the chicken coop. With that door option, it was subsequent movement that would get you killed. If you went right, you’d be visible from the shed in about five feet. If you went left, you could be clearly seen from the chicken coop after about forty feet. So, as long as you didn’t want to go anywhere, you could get out.
And, of course, if they had got somebody to the old concrete silo, which in all likelihood they had, they could cover the second door from the get-go.
We couldn’t get out. Tactical obstacle number one.
Seeing as how we couldn’t leave, other problems just sort of popped up everywhere. Our field of view was absolutely rotten. Even from George’s position in the loft, there were large areas of the farmyard we just couldn’t see. Granted, we did have a good view of the shed. But, we only had a partial view of the chicken coop. And the concrete silo was out of our field of view completely. We weren’t going to be able to tell if there was anybody up in the thing until one of us tried to get out the old door. Tactical obstacle number two.
We couldn’t
