Chapter Twenty-Three
I startled awake and checked my cell phone on the night table. The alarm wasn’t set to go off for another half an hour.I turned to see if Patrick was still sleeping. He wasn’t. He was on his back with an arm above his head.
“You’re awake, too?” I said.
“Yeah. Bad dream, babe?”
“I think so. Can’t remember. It looks like you’re contemplating something.”
“I am.”
“What?”
“I’m thinking about the pending DNA results. And The Espresso Bar and Eatery.”
“Oh, yum. Is that where you bought those breakfast sandwiches before?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the run comes off the analyzer in about an hour. Think we can make it to the Eatery before work?”
A smile curled on his lips, and a devilish glint flashed in his eyes.
As if a track official had shot a gun to start a race, Patrick and I kicked off the sheets and scrambled out of bed. We moved around each other, getting showered and dressed, adding a kiss here, or a loving touch there.
Along the way, we drove to the takeout window for his coffee and sausage breakfast sandwich, and my tea and a morning glory muffin.
“Yum,” I said as I took a bite of the warm muffin top, wishing I had ordered two of them.
Patrick slipped his hand to my knee.
In what seemed like no time, we were at the police complex and parked near the lab entrance. We carried our beverages, and I scanned my new ID badge to get into the building.
The first to arrive in the lab, I flicked on the lights and headed straight to the genetic analyzer. Patrick trotted close behind. I tapped the instrument’s screen to initialize the warmup. We took sips from our cups while waiting in anticipation.
“You know, Patrick, I have never eaten or drank in the lab before,” I said. “This is a serious safety violation.”
“I don’t want to be in violation,” he said.
“There’s no one here,” I whispered. “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.” I couldn’t believe I just said that.
“Sounds covert,” he said. “I’ve never seen this secretive rebellious June before. Tantalizing.”
The lab door swung open.
“Oh, good morning, June, Officer,” Edward said. “Results ready yet?”
Patrick discreetly took the cup from my hand and tossed our drinks in the trash.
My mouth twitched into a momentary smile.
Smooth move, hun.
“Hi, Edward,” I said. “The results are loading right now.” I tapped on the screen and selected the specimens of interest from my case. My heart thumped. The first DNA test report appeared on the screen. I read the allele numbers. Patrick moved closer to the display. Edward came over too.
“Unfortunately, the John Doe in the morgue will remain a John Doe. His DNA is not in the database,” I said. “And there weren’t any identifications from the crime scene either.”
“They may be illegal entrants,” Patrick said. “What about the blood I swabbed from your arm?”
I scrolled to the next field. “There were two sets of DNA found.”
“Any identifications?” Patrick asked.
“A male and a female,” I said.
“Any matches from the convicted offender’s index?” Edward asked as he inched closer.
“No matches. But the one thing this confirms is the blood wiped from my arm probably belonged to the perp, not the dead victim. I’m assuming the female DNA is mine, from skin cells wiped off my arm—a contaminant, so to speak. I’ll confirm that, to be sure.” I had hoped for a suspect identification, and in an instant my hope was obliterated. I fought pangs of disappointment. We still didn’t know who the victim was, or who the guy was that knocked me flying.
“Well, that stinks, Officer,” Edward said and moved to another computer.
Patrick rubbed his neck. “It does. It would have been preferable to have a name.”
My phone rang, and I grabbed it from my pocket. Private caller. “Hello?” I heard some sort of rustling. “Hello?”
The connection was cut off.
Patrick’s eyes narrowed.
“Wrong number, I guess,” I said.
“Did they say anything?” Patrick asked.
“Not a word.”
“What’s the number?”
“It was private.” I shrugged. “Probably spam.”
Patrick paused and seemed to be assessing what I had said.
“I’m going to head out, June. I’ll pick you up at five?” he said.
I pursed my lips for a quick air kiss. Patrick opened the door just as Dr. Hamid entered.
“Thank you, Officer,” Dr. Hamid said as Patrick held the door open.
My knees weakened, destabilized. Damn visceral reaction. Aram smiled at me. Oh, those dimples.
“Good morning,” Dr. Hamid said. “Is there any conclusive news?”
I shook my head. “There’s no match.”
His lips pressed together. “Not ideal.”
Edward pivoted his eyes sideways at us as he walked by.
“I won’t keep you, June,” Aram whispered. “I’d like to have a quick chat about the other day. But it can wait.”
“I have time now,” I said and tried to figure out what Aram could have been referring to. He gestured with a head tilt, and I followed him into the hallway. “What’s up?”
The clip-clopping of shoes echoed in the corridor, and Aram paused from talking.
Lara Armstrong approached. “Was there a fire alarm?”
“No alarm,” I said. “Dr. Hamid and I are just talking about a case.”
“That’s a relief. I was afraid the autoclaves overheated again. Good morning, by the way,” Lara said.
“Good morning,” Aram and I harmonized.
I waited until the lab door closed. “Aram, you’ve got me curious.”
“Sorry, I’m not trying to be cryptic. I wanted to let you know I had an odd occurrence, or coincidence, happen.”
“Really?” He had me stumped. I had no clue where this could be going.
“Remember asking me about Dr. Stan Fulthorpe?”
I listened intently. “Yes, I do. At the house I had inquired about him because his name was on a business card I had found on the property.”
“Perhaps it wasn’t so random.”
“How?” My mouth dropped open.
“I have privileges, and I do consultations at St. Eugene’s. Yesterday I attended hematology rounds at the hospital,” Aram continued.
He licked his bottom lip before speaking. He had full lips. I backed away from him slightly.
“Stan Fulthorpe’s partner, Gideon Crawford, had presented a talk on bone marrow transplants and antirejection medications.”
Patrick and I had spoken with Dr. Crawford at the hospital. “I’ve met him,” I said. “He seems—”
“Seems what?”
“Odd. Don’t you think?”
Aram chuckled. “You’re putting it nicely. He’s an ass. A very wealthy ass. And a prominent member of all the exclusive clubs.”
“I’m not surprised,” I said. He was, after all, a doctor, and a specialist.
“No, I mean obscenely wealthy,” Aram emphasized. “For example, I buy art prints. But he buys originals.”
“Oh,” I said and tried to comprehend having that kind of money.
“Anyway, while presenting, Crawford spoke about a patient case of his office partner, who is of course, Stan Fulthorpe.”
“Ok?” I said, trying to follow this thread.
“You’re wondering where I’m going with this?”
I nodded.
“Gideon Crawford had mentioned that his partner, Dr. Stan Fulthorpe, wasn’t present at grand rounds because he had taken an unexpected trip. And Gideon also said, in jest, that maybe Stan had been the mysterious winner of the Mega Moola Lottery and was in the Galapagos Islands.”
“An unexpected trip?” I parroted.
“I don’t think a destination is significant at this point,” Aram said. “I’m mentioning this because I found it odd how you had asked about an old classmate whom I haven’t thought of in years, and then I hear about him MIA the very next day. I assumed you would want to know.”
“I do. And thank you. I will let Patrick know; he may want to question you further. Is that okay?”
At the mention of Patrick’s name, Aram’s chin tilted downward.
“Yes, of course, June. I’ll do anything to help find the person who hurt the only woman I’ve loved.”
I froze.
He looked down and rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But you know me. I always say what I feel. I hope I haven’t made things too awkward between us.”
“Aram—” I didn’t know what to say as his aqua eyes pulled me in.
The lab door opened, and Lara peeked out. “June, can I load the next run?”
“Ah, yes, I’ll be right there,” I said to Lara. I walked to the door and turned back to Aram. “Can we talk more later?”
“I’d like that,” he said.
I never thought I’d ever see him look at me in that desirous way again. For two agonizing years, I had longed for him to come back. But he didn’t. He had left me, and I had moved on. I walked through the lab with the most expressionless face I could muster up.
No, Aram, you’ve fooled me once, and never will again.