Back at the Precinct…
"Hey Pete, whatcha got for us?" Dr. Girard Peters, AKA Pete, was a genuine genius. He graduated high school at 14, he would have done so sooner, but the school board wouldn't let him, so he graduated with his Bachelors in Biology at the same time, then he finished his PhD in Forensic Science four years later. Now at 20 years old, Pete was the Medical Examiner for the state of New York. However, his genius status would never be known based on his appearance. The young man had jet black hair and only wore ripped jeans, worn converse, and t-shirts of superheroes.
"So, like I said at the crime scene, Angela Jackson died due a single GSW to the chest. I plugged the slug, it was a .38."
"No one reported anything. He must have used a silencer." Rawlings interrupted.
"Stippling on the bullet suggests that scenario, yes. But, bruises on her arms also indicate that she struggled with her attacker first, so I swapped under her nails and sent DNA samples off for processing. I also found an indention on her skull; I suspect it was from the butt of the gun."
"Ok, so they struggled, she clawed him; he hit her and then shot her." Evans summed up the evidence thus far. "Was there anything else?"
"It could have been a woman." Rawlings said, earning a small frown from his elder partner.
"Two other things: I suspect sexual assault, but the evidence is inconclusive.-" Dr. Peters attempted to continue presenting his findings, only to be interrupted by the Detectives once again.
"So it was a guy." Evans inserted with a slight smirk.
"Not necessarily." Nate muttered under his breathe, but either his partner didn't hear him or he choose to ignore it.
"Anyway, one last thing: it's weird, but the killer wrote the Roman numeral two on her palm with her own blood."
"That is weird. When we found her, her hands were folded across her chest like she was sleeping. Which one was it?"
"The left. It was atop the right. There was so much blood from the gunshot that I almost missed it."
"Were you able to pull any prints off her?" Evans inquired.
"No. He must have been wearing gloves."
"Alright. Thanks Pete. Keep us updated if you find anything else." Evans threw over his shoulder as he walked out of the exam room, eager to return to his desk and catch the killer. That numeral two disturbed him and his instincts told him it would prove to be very important to the case.
"Right-o." Pete answered with a smile.
"Right-o?" Nate skeptically asked, his eyebrow cocked.
"Not good?" Pete asked as his smiled dimmed slightly. The young man, had been searching for a catch-phrase for weeks. Detective Evans thought the idea was nonsense, but Detective Rawlings, at least, was willing to help him find just the right one.
"No." The Detective answered with a small laugh. "Keep trying." Then he too left the room and joined his partner in front of the elevator.