“Clark Denforth, the head forensic specialist at the state crime lab, told Claire over the phone at work. He was an excitable guy, and he was excited. “After he was underwater?” “Yes, and it wasn’t his own print. Checked that right away. Someone who, shall we say, perspires freely. For whatever reason, he had very greasy hands. We got a great, clear print off the lens. And best yet, it was a tented arch.” Claire knew enough about fingerprints to know that this was one of the rare ones. “That wil...l certainly help in identification.” “You got anyone for us to look at?” She paused and thought of Stephanie. “Not yet, but hopefully soon. Wish you could tell sex from a print.” “I call with great news, and all you can do is complain.” Claire walked down the hallway to confer with Chief Deputy Sheriff Stewart Swanson, known as Stewy to everyone. He ran the department while the sheriff did the public business. Not that the sheriff didn’t step in, but they seemed to have worked the division of labor out between them and were a good team.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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