The Enemy Inside (33 page)

Berg once again felt something niggling in the back of her mind, something that had been eating at her since the first murder. She walked a short distance away from the group for some thinking space.

“Berg, you got something?” Jay asked, following her and hovering.

“I don’t know . . .” Her voice trailed off as she searched the very corners of her mind, but the thought lay just out of reach. Berg gave up, and the quartet moved toward the white morgue doors.
 

“Thanks for doing it so quick, Doc,” Jay said over his shoulder, taking the report from him.

“No problem, detective. We’re working with an independent lab to recheck our DNA entries, but I wanted to ensure this one was done,” Dwight said.

“That’s it!”
 

Berg’s loud exclamation sounded out of place in the solemn morgue, and the four men started at the sudden noise.

“Fuck! What?” Jay replied.

“The database!”
 

She rushed back over to Dwight as Jay and the others followed.
 

“McEnery had been to federal prison in the last five years, and Taylor did several stints in Cook County. So why weren’t their DNA profiles in the database?”

Dwight immediately looked concerned.
 

“While CODIS is the national DNA database, each lab is responsible for its own DNA database that links with it . . . oh dear.”
 

For the first time in years, Dr. Dwight was without an explanation.
 

“Both men’s DNA should be in the offender’s index on the database. DNA collection of convicted felons has been mandatory for years,” Berg said.

“Motherfucker!” Jay said.

Dwight looked at Jay gratefully, as if the detective summed up his thoughts exactly with the expletive.
 

Berg nodded. “It looks like the DNA anomaly for Amelia was not an accident. Someone’s hacking into our database and either changing or removing profiles.”
 

“I don’t think so, Detective Raymond,” Dr. Dwight argued. “Even the best hacker on the planet couldn’t breach our firewalls, secure servers, and anti-hacking devices. They are the most secure in the world because they have to be.”

“Surely you’re not saying it’s another mistake?”

“No.” Dr. Dwight paused. “I think it’s an inside job.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Since Dwight’s explosive conclusion, Jay and Berg had been looking up Uncle Ted’s service records, including all military units he served in and the names of the servicemen in them.
 

The database revelation served to reinforce their theory that Uncle Ted had an inside helper in the police or military, someone who was senior enough to be able to access the Cook County DNA database. While neither of them said it, they were looking for one name: Antonio Consiglio.
 

Due to Berg’s suspicions that he set her up, his irrational denial of linked killings, along with the clearance required to change the database, it was the only conclusion they could come to.

Berg’s cell vibrated on her desk and she answered it without thinking. “Yeah?” Listening for a moment, she shook her head. “No way. You know we can’t.”
 

Jay looked at her questioningly.
 

Cut off by an insistent voice on the cell, Berg listened again, pressing her lips together. “Owe you?” Berg blurted. “We nearly got fired because of you.” She ended the call and turned off her cell. “Stella,” she whispered to Jay. “I’ll explain later.”

They opened Uncle Ted’s military file.
 

“Okay,” Berg said. “It says here Ted was a first lieutenant.”

Jay got up from his desk and moved to stand behind his partner, resting his hand lightly on the nape of her neck. Irritated, Berg shrugged it off.
 

“I’m no expert, but being promoted two levels isn’t very high for a military career of twenty years starting at officer,” Jay said.

“No,” she said, clicking on his file again to show details of his record. “And this is why. His file is full of disciplinary action. No wonder he was dishonorably discharged. We’ve got a few investigations for excessive force, beatings, enemy torture, and some investigations into accidental shootings. Why did they keep him in for so long? This guy’s a nut job. If it’d been any other time than before the Vietnam War, Shipper’d be in prison for most of this,” she said.

“Torture?” Jay asked.

“Oh yeah.”

Jay moved forward, over Berg’s body, and read the screen. “Vietnam vet. He also went AWOL there for a while.”

“The offender profile fits, a career of violence. Then there’s some indication of animal torture, plus a trigger event like the rape of the niece he considered to be a daughter,” Berg read, again moving her body away from Jay. “Could be Post Vietnam Syndrome?”
 

Jay looked at her blankly.
 

“You know, Post Vietnam Syndrome, or as it is now known, PTSD or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?”

“Oh, got it.”
 

“But we still don’t know who his accomplice is or where the strange woman fits in.” Berg continued to search the service files. “Let’s start with a list of all his unit buddies in Vietnam and go from there.” She printed out a list.

Jay grabbed the list from the printer and started scanning the names. He sighed. “Ah, fuck.”
 

Jay and Berg sat on one side of a stark interrogation room on the basement level of the Cook County building.
 

The pair sat on scarred plastic chairs, hands around their coffee cups in an effort to keep warm. On one end of the room was a one-way mirror. The detectives knew there was no one on the other side of the mirror, and no sound or video recordings were being used.
 

Their unofficial suspect sat in a chair facing the detectives, arms crossed.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were in the Army?” Jay asked.

“It’s not something I like to talk about,” Detective Hamilton replied before scowling. “You wouldn’t talk about it either if you’d seen the things I’ve seen.”

“Why didn’t you mention to us you knew Shipper?” Berg asked, remembering Hamilton’s abrupt about-face when he caught Shipper’s outburst in the morgue after Melissa’s death.

Hamilton shifted uneasily. “Technically I didn’t. The guy was a psycho, and everyone in the unit knew it. I stayed the hell away from him. I was only in Vietnam for six months and pretty fucking glad to get my medical discharge.”

“Still, you should have mentioned it. You know how this looks,” Jay said.

“How’s that?” Hamilton asked.

Jay glared at his colleague. “Let me spell it out for you, Hamilton. It looks like you conspired with a psycho to track down and punish a rapist and then decided that you liked it and kept on going. Not to mention tampering with a DNA database and potentially screwing up hundreds of legitimate convictions!” Jay stood abruptly, fuming.

Going pale, Hamilton wiped the sweat away from his large, red face with a shaky hand and dried it on his pants. The moisture left dark streaks in the fabric. “I didn’t do any of that. Maybe I should get a lawyer—”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Berg said. “This is just an informal interview so we can get a few answers. We’re showing you some respect and hoping there’s a reasonable explanation.”

“How did you get to Dell and Taylor before us? Is the fake hospital volunteer a friend of yours or Ted’s?” Jay asked. “You know, if all of this was Ted’s idea, then it’s not your fault. Maybe he’s been blackmailing or threatening you to get your help? We can work out a deal. Just tell us where they are.”

Hamilton rolled his eyes. “Don’t try that shit on me, Jay. I was using that technique while you were still sucking your momma’s tit.” Hamilton pursed his lips, as if unsure of his next move. “Like I already said, I barely knew the guy. Everyone stayed the hell away from the motherfucker. He used to disappear into the jungle for days on end.”

Jay snorted.

Berg tried her best to calm everyone down. “Hamilton, you should have mentioned you were in Vietnam with him when we first brought him in.”

“I didn’t want to talk about it!” Hamilton was getting increasingly agitated. “Have you ever been in a place like that? Every day, not knowing if it was your last? Every day, having to watch where you tread because of land mines? Watching your friends get killed or maimed in front of you? Knowing that some of them are in prison camps being tortured that very second and will never get home to their families? Having to kill or be killed? Killing innocent kids? Women? Babies? Napalming entire villages? Can you even imagine the horror?”
 

Berg felt a lump in her throat.

Hamilton took a shaky breath. “Have you ever wished every day you were dead, just so it would stop?” he whispered.
 

Berg wasn’t sure if Jay had heard what she did, since his back was turned facing the mirror. Horrified, she looked away. She wished she was dead every single day. She was lost again, unable to stop herself. She rationalized that she needed just the few short moments of respite and escape the sex provided, just a few moments of bliss where she didn’t have to be . . . her.
 

She couldn’t remember the last meeting she’d been to, not since Jay had come to her place over a week ago.
 

Hamilton, oblivious to Berg’s thoughts, sighed heavily, defeated. “Six months was a lifetime. I still have nightmares.”

Jay rubbed his face and turned back around. “Why were you discharged?” he asked, calmer now.

“Got shot in the leg,” he said, waving toward the leg with the limp. “Fortunately, I got a discharge out of it, came back to civilization, and returned to my job on the force. I got transferred to a desk job later as the limp got worse as I aged, and tried to forget I was ever there. I don’t talk to anyone from those days. I didn’t even tell my wife the whole time we were married.”

“Did you fucking set me up, you son of a bitch?” Berg asked, the realization suddenly dawning on her.

“No!” Hamilton replied, indignant.

Berg didn’t know what to believe anymore. Her radar was all over the place, and something didn’t seem quite right with Hamilton.
 

“We’re going to need to check up on—”

“Fine,” Hamilton said bitterly as he took out his cell and threw it on the table. It landed with a clunk. “Here’s my cell. Check the records. Check my home phone, too, my computer, credit cards, whatever you want. You won’t find anything, because I have absofuckinglutely nothing to do with this! You know I can’t work technology! How would I go about changing the database, for fuck’s sake?”

“That’s pretty convenient,” Jay replied.

“And I would have thought that you, of all people, would know a little something about being wrongly accused,” Hamilton said to Berg.
 

She flushed and looked away.
 

“When you were accused, none of us thought you did it, not for a second. Pity I don’t get the same courtesy.” He leaned back on the chair and folded his arms again.

Berg and Jay stood and left the room, closing the door behind them.

“What do you think?” Jay whispered.

“My gut says he wouldn’t do this.”
But I can’t trust myself. I’m not sure of anything anymore
. “I can’t believe he would set me up, either. He’s a good cop, got a good record. I think he just made a bad decision by not coming forward with his past when he saw Shipper that first time. Then when Ted became a suspect, it was too late.”

Jay mulled this over. “I agree. And everybody knows the guy can barely operate a typewriter, let alone tamper with a database. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. But it all fits too perfectly.”

The detectives both realized they had a dilemma. Nobody knew he was being questioned, not even his partner, Smith, and they couldn’t hold him without charge. And if they charged him, everyone would know and his career and pension would be all but over.
 

Berg, in particular, felt reluctant to inflict this on a fellow officer, having been a victim of it herself. She sighed in resignation. They had no evidence anyway.