Chapter 30
Allison
“That can’t…I mean obviously that can’t be…” Nerves close my throat, the wind knocked from me, still convinced that I must have heard him wrong.
“Every federal employee is fingerprinted,” says Bruce Ghadiali. “And you were part of the voluntary DNA submission program. I checked.”
But this can’t be right because there is no chance my fingers touched that tube of Trinity’s lipstick I took from Luke’s condo. I wore gloves the whole time. I’m not an idiot. And I sure as shit didn’t apply that lipstick to my lips.
Same with the Trinity shopping bag I dug out of Luke’s recycling bin. There is no way my fingerprints or DNA could be on it. None.
I look up at Bruce. “You can’t think that I had anything to do with this.”
“I was surprised to see these results,” he says. “I called you here as a courtesy, Allison, so you’d agree to withdraw as counsel. If you don’t, I’ll have to move to disqualify you.”
“That’s…absurd,” I manage, my voice weak.
“It’s anything but absurd. You’re a witness now. At a minimum—”
“I want to see it,” I say. “I want to see the evidence with my prints on it.”
He nods. “I figured as much. Look, not touch, right? It’s sealed up anyway.”
From his desk drawer, he removes a large, sealed, clear plastic bag containing the shopping bag, folded in half, and places it on the desk. Next to it, a smaller bag, also clear, containing the tube of lipstick.
I stand and lean over the desk, keeping my hands at my sides.
The bag isn’t purple and doesn’t say Trinity. It’s one of my recyclable nylon Treasure Island shopping bags.
The tube of lipstick isn’t the one I took from Luke’s living room. It’s one of mine, one of my favorites, one of the Charlotte Tilbury mattes in my rotation.
I close my eyes, a slow burn through my chest. Trinity. Oh, Trinity.
You.
Fucking.
Bitch.