Chapter Twenty-Nine
At work, I sat in front of a computer monitor and stifled a yawn. Along with other things, Patrick’s baffling rendezvous on the porch in the middle of the night got my mind reeling and robbed me of sleep. I was grateful Edward continued to train Ursula, giving me one less thing to do.
I leaned in when the DNA results from the now-scorched crime scene flashed onto the screen. I zoned in on the key items of the report.
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Evidence Number: AA15843
Description: Ceiling tile
Type of evidence: Blood
DNA profile is consistent with a single source, major male profile, matching unknown major male from Evidence Number: AA15339.
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To cross-check, I typed in AA15339.
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Evidence Number: AA15339
Description: Swab from June Harber—left forearm
Type of evidence: Blood
Swab from June Harber—left forearm yielded a DNA profile consistent from two sources, major female profile, June Harber, and one major male profile, identity unknown.
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I sat back.
Though the identity of the “major male,” my attacker, was still unknown, the DNA evidence placed him at the crime scene. He may have very well been the murderer himself.
My insides twisted. I had to tell Patrick. I grabbed my phone from my lab coat pocket and rushed toward the door. Lara looked at me as I whizzed by.
I dialed, and the call went to voicemail. “Hi, Patrick. I have an update on lab results. Talk to you soon.”
Now I had two things to stress about—what Patrick had read on the porch and whether he’d been able to locate Dr. Fulthorpe. If he had located Dr. Fulthorpe, had he been able to question the doctor? My thoughts scattered in several directions. How had my simple life turned into a series of jumbled events?
Later, in the staff lounge, I downed the last drops of my tea. I still hadn’t heard from Patrick. I paced the room in between the metal-bar sofa and the round laminate table. He was obviously busy working. He was a cop, for God’s sake. Still, I remained impatient. I needed to talk about the case right now.
I exited the room and headed down the hallway. I trekked through the open doorway of Aram’s office and found Ursula and Aram chatting. I stopped in my tracks. “Oh, excuse me.” I shuffled my feet, trying to decide whether to stay or go.
“I’ll see you later, Aram,” Ursula said and all but blew him a kiss. She barely acknowledged me as she walked by.
Aram’s face brightened with a smile. “It’s wonderful to see you, June. How are you?”
“Fine, I think. Sorry about barging over here unannounced.”
“Barge anytime.”
Awkwardness diffused, and I smiled. “May I ask your opinion about something?”
“Of course,” he said. “Would you like to shut the door?”
“Sure, that’d be best.” I clicked it closed and perched on a chair. “Aram, I was just wondering, and I don’t mean to be out of line, but I’d like to ask you something about Dr. Fulthorpe.”
“Oh, yes, Stan Fulthorpe. But I don’t know how much help I’ll be. What would you like to know?”
“From the circles you run in, have you, by any chance, heard if he’s back in town?”
“I have no idea. Why do you ask?”
“Police have confirmed his rental house burned down last night.”
“That’s horrible,” Aram said. “Did anyone get injured?”
“No. It was vacant at the time.”
“That’s good. I hope Stan’s insurance policy is up to date.”
“Right,” I said. “I never thought of that, but yes, for his sake I hope it is.” I wondered if Dr. Fulthorpe could have been capable of arson for an insurance payout. There were so many variables to consider. “Sorry to have bothered you, Aram.” I turned to leave.
“June.”
I stopped.
“Would you like to tell me what you’re not saying?”
His aqua eyes probed like a mesmerizing laser. “Am I that transparent?” My voice was almost a whisper. “Even after all this time?”
“I’ve studied everything about you, June, that is, when we were together. I haven’t forgotten. Your forehead is creased, ever so slightly, but I notice it. And when you bit your bottom lip, I sensed there was something troubling you.”
My frame became less stable.
“Did I just creep you out? You know I’ve done that before. Like the time I showed up when you were out with your friends.”
I winced. “Oh, you definitely creeped me out when I saw you across the street. But now I know you’re harmless. I mean, you wouldn’t do me harm, intentionally.” I had to stop reminiscing. We needed to focus on the reason I had come here. “You are right, Aram. There is something else I wanted to tell you. I think it’d be okay legally if I did.”
“It’ll go no further.”
I didn’t doubt he’d keep things silent.
“Here it goes,” I said. “The house fire I just told you about. You’ve been there.”
“I have?” He squinted. “Where was that?”
“The crime scene we examined with Officer Verbeek.”
“That murder had occurred on Stan Fulthorpe’s property?” Aram’s demeanor darkened like a brewing storm. “How the hell did that happen?”
I shrugged.
“Let’s see what Stan has to say.” Aram picked up the phone and dialed. “Hematology clinic.”
My mouth fell open, and I snapped it shut.
“Hello, it’s Dr. Hamid calling from forensics. I’d like to speak with Dr. Fulthorpe.”
I dared not move while eavesdropping.
“Do you know for how long?” He listened for a few moments. “No, it’s fine. I’ll catch him when he returns.” He hung up.
“He’s still away?” I stated the obvious. “For how long?”
“The receptionist didn’t know. She was going to pass the phone to Dr. Crawford, but I dodged that.”
“Phew,” I said, and he smiled at me in that familiar way. My mouth went dry. “Well, thank you for your help, Aram. I have to get back to work.”
In the afternoon I performed maintenance on one of the analyzers. I cleaned the internal surfaces, laser reader, probes, calibrated, and topped up solutions. Not unlike a machine, I worked on autopilot. My thoughts circulated around the case, Aram, and Patrick’s inconsistent behavior. Why was he up last night to get the early morning paper? Was it for covert police work? Or could he be a dirty cop or an informant of some sort? Or was he cheating? These possibilities scared me more than any danger from the case.
Near quitting time, I checked my phone for messages. Patrick sent a kiss emoji, and I smiled. He was working late, and I’d have to cab it home.
I received a text from Debra, the flight attendant who lived above me at my duplex apartment.
—June, just letting you know a package arrived for you. I put it in the vestibule. And a heads-up, I hid the key to the basement door under the mat. I’m off for an overseas flight. Be back in a couple.—
A package? I didn’t recall having ordered anything. It was still daylight; I’d swing by and get it.
I’d be in and out and steer clear of the basement.