Gaspar was running the software now, but he had not called with positive results thus far.

Once they got a list of possible victims, they’d seek confirmation using DNA, fingerprint, ear print, or dental records. And anything else they might have access to.

With luck, Kim could know this man’s identity in the next few hours.

Or she might never know.

But there was no reason to be fatalistic about this.

At least, not yet.

-

Chapter 9

Friday, June 3

Cleveland, OH

Dr. Samuel stood in the cold room with both hands stuffed into his pockets, looking at the body on the stainless steel table as if he might simply by force of will cause the dead man to release his secrets.

“So far, he’s still a John Doe. We ran his prints and DNA through the various databases we have access to and got no hits,” Samuel said. “We have requested dental records from the usual sources, but again, no hits yet.”

“Which means he wasn’t in the US military, prison system, or the other criminal or civil databases?” Russell asked to clarify.

“Correct. We also checked the INTERPOL AFIS systems,” Samuel nodded. “So he’s never been arrested or had a job that required fingerprinting, inside the US or in any of the INTERPOL member countries.”

“Or if he was, his identity has been removed from the system,” Kim said.

Russell nodded. “But he could be a regular Joe who has never had a reason to get his prints on file. There are millions of those people, males and females, walking around the US, not to mention dozens of other countries in the world.”

“In which case we may never know who he was,” Dr. Samuel said flatly. “Obvious cause of death was two gunshot wounds to the head. The first shot was fatal. There was no need for the second.”

“What else can you tell us about him?” Russell asked.

“Nothing to tell. There’s nothing unusual about him, medically speaking. He’s well nourished, well developed. Mid-forties,” Dr. Samuel recited as if he were dictating the autopsy. “Reasonably good muscle fitness. Not a bodybuilder or a runner, but he was in good shape. Nothing remarkable in his tox screen. Nothing in his pockets.”

“What about the labels in his clothes?” Kim asked.

“Just your basic global brands made in the far east and worn by everyone everywhere.” Dr. Samuel shook his head. “If you’d gone searching for an average white male, this guy would fit the profile in every respect.”

Kim looked at Russell, arching her eyebrows in question. He nodded in return.

Bottom line was that they didn’t know who this guy was or why he’d been killed after sneaking into Kim’s apartment building.

Presumably he’d made the effort to connect with her. Whether he had sinister or benign motives remained unknown.

But Mr. X definitely was not an Average Joe.

He was much too clever in a way that came from expertise and experience with current surveillance equipment and techniques.

He’d known he’d need a key card to enter her building, and he’d figured out how to clone one that worked.

He knew how to hide himself from visible and invisible cameras installed throughout her building. He knew not to take the elevator and how to enter and exit the stairwells without being seen or caught.

All of which proved he had well beyond average skills.

“What about the bullet and bullet wounds, Dr. Samuel?” Kim asked. “Any luck with those?”