Chapter Eight
I marched into the lab. With the possible threat of a criminal knowing my identity and workplace, analyzing the blood sample Patrick had swabbed off my arm became top priority.
I had to enlighten my colleagues about my situation.
Vinny looked up from his computer monitor as I rooted myself in the center of the lab. Lara shut the centrifuge lid and glanced over and then nudged Edward with an elbow, who sat beside her.
“Hey, guys,” I said. “I have something to tell all of you, something you should know, for your own safety.”
“Safety?” Vinny stood, wide-eyed. “I knew it. They’re real, aren’t they?”
“What’s real?” I asked, with no idea of what he was talking about.
Lara rolled her eyes. “Aliens. Vinny’s referring to aliens.”
“Like extraterrestrial aliens?” I shook my head. “Gosh, I don’t know if they’re real.”
“You don’t? You mean you weren’t abducted?” Vinny said and scratched his bald head. “But there were so many signs.”
Edward snorted. “Get real, Vinny.”
“He is real,” Lara said. “He honestly believes little green men exist. Says he has proof—bacteria from the clouds of Venus, or something.”
“Shhh! Not so loud,” Vinny said.
Lara waved him off. “What is it, June? What’s going on.”
I took a breath. “Last Friday, I missed my bus, and Officer Verbeek was kind enough to offer me a ride home.”
The others exchanged glances.
“On the way, we stopped at a disturbance call that turned out to be a murder scene, and the apparent perp shoved me into a dumpster, and now my work badge is missing.”
Dead silence.
“Dear God, June.” Lara ran over and hugged me. “You poor thing. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. But if we assume this person has my badge and knows where I work, we should all be on the lookout for anything suspicious. Maybe use the buddy system when going to our vehicles.”
“I have mace,” Lara said with excitement. “And my spiked heels are an excellent weapon.”
“Good stuff,” Vinny said. “I can fill syringes of etorphine for all of us to carry.”
I giggled. “Vinny, this isn’t a TV episode of that vigilante serial killer.”
No one else laughed.
“Wait,” I said. “You have access to etorphine?”
Vinny pursed his lips and remained silent.
“Okay, guys,” I said. “I think it would be best to focus on analyzing the blood swabbed from my arm, the potential murder weapon, and items from the crime scene. The sooner this guy gets caught, the safer we’ll all be.”
Edward cleared his throat. “Are we all in for overtime tonight, people? I know I am.”
Everyone nodded, and tears moistened my eyes. I worked with a considerate bunch. They were a little odd at times, even worrisome, but I couldn’t ask for a better group to rely on.
****
I put the automatic pipette down and shook my hand. Without looking at a clock, the aching in my thumb alerted me I’d reached my limit for the day. I inserted the plastic tray of dispensed samples into the analyzer and touched a series of buttons on the screen to start the overnight run. It was now up to the instrument to complete the sequencing.
Tomorrow, DNA analysis would be complete.
At the end of a long shift, we all stood near the sink, waiting for our turn to wash our hands. The phone rang, and I grabbed the receiver beside me.
“Forensics. June Harber.”
“Hi, June. How are you doing?” Patrick said.
“Hey, I was just thinking about you. Do you like salmon?” I curled the spiral phone cord around my finger.
“Yes, I do.”
“Great, because I have a couple filets in my freezer and I thought I’d bake them for dinner, if you would like to join me.”
“Ah, sorry I’d love to, but I’ve been in court all day and still have work to finish.”
My insides sank. “No problem. I can save them for another night.”
I tried not to appear disappointed when I hung up. I said good night to my crew, and on the way out I stopped by security and picked up a new ID badge. The wind whipped the door open and then slammed it shut with a deafening bang. Jumbo clouds billowed in a dreary gray sky, and I held my skirt down while battling uplifting gusts.
The heavens became darker by the second. I wanted to get home before the impending downpour but took a detour. Something compelled me to go back to the scene of the crime. Perhaps it was morbid curiosity. Or maybe an investigative inclination. But most likely wishful thinking. I parked directly in front of the house. They sealed off the entire perimeter of the property with yellow police tape.
All seemed motionless and quiet within the confined area. I touched the yellow plastic barrier and debated crawling under. Movement flashed to my left, and I spun around. A woman in a trench coat held a taut leash to her sniffing beagle.
“I wouldn’t go in there, dear,” she said. “There was a murder last week.”
“Really?” I hadn’t realized the crime had made the news. “Hi, I’m June. Do you live near here?”
“Mabel. And yes, I live around the corner. I have got to tell you; the neighborhood is mighty nervous after what happened. It’s always been such a safe area.”
“I can imagine,” I said, withholding details about my involvement. “Do you, by any chance, know who lives in this house and who was murdered? Has there been any previous disturbances?”
Her dog lurched. “I have no idea who was murdered. I’m guessing it was over drugs or something. It’s a rental, I do know that. People come and go, but without happenstance, unlike now.”
The house sat in a foreboding darkness.
The dog dragged the woman forward. “Well, be careful, June,” she called out behind her. “You never know who’s lurking where. Have a good evening.”
“You too,” I said. Instead of returning to my car, I walked along the length of the tape. It stopped at the dumpster. I could still envision Patrick racing down the alley after the suspect. Automatically, I turned and headed down the hedge-lined lane and used my phone’s torchlight. I scrutinized the dirt and gravel. I didn’t know why I was doing this, but maybe it would help jog my memory.
I’d traipsed about a hundred yards and stopped, glancing at the house’s unremarkable backyard. Birds flew over my head into a large tree. Or maybe they were bats. Lightning cracked in the black sky. The wind whistled, and the temperature noticeably dropped. I retraced my steps when suddenly a stone jumped into one of my pumps. Balancing on one foot, I took off my shoe and shook out the pebble. My phone somersaulted out of my hand and tumbled to the ground.
Damn.
The light flashed into the hedge, and I noticed a scrap of paper amongst the fallen leaves. I squatted and then dropped to my knees to fetch it. It was a business card. I shone the phone light onto it. The name on the card was Dr. Fulthorpe, Hematologist, St. Eugene’s Hospital.
My heart hammered. I turned the card over, and in black ink an address was written—109 Landry Road. This address.
How did this card get here, and whose was it? Could it have belonged to the guy that knocked me down? Or was I grasping?
What really happened there?
Wind tugged at my hair, and thunder cracked. Clouds burst, and heavy rain poured. Wet clothes clung to my body, and I pushed dripping hair from my eyes. My heels sunk into the wet earth as I sprinted to my car. The smooth soles of my shoes held no traction, and I slipped on the slick grass and fell onto my rear. I scrambled to my feet and shuffled the rest of the way, sloshing into a puddle on the road before climbing into my car. Saturated, cold, and mucky, I sat inside my vehicle. I put the dirty, wet business card onto the seat beside me and panted.
What the hell was I doing? I felt like an idiot, probably looked like one too, searching for clues in an electrical storm. They did not train me in this field of investigation.
I turned on the ignition and looked at the house and at the dumpster. Shivering, I flipped on the heat.
Yes, I was inexperienced in crime investigation. Green as an Irish meadow. But, with my safety at risk, I was even more motivated to learn pretty damn quick.