“Probably. Right now she’s a client, and this is her best shot at getting some answers.”
Nicole put the shirt back in its envelope but didn’t seal it.
“Follow me.”
We walked through another set of doors, down a white corridor, and into yet another white lab.
“This is our prep area for DNA extraction. First thing I need to do is examine the garment and figure out what kinds of tests to run.”
“You all right with this?” I said.
Nicole stretched the shirt onto an examining table and handed me a pair of goggles.
“Let’s try not to talk about it. Put these on.”
She pulled a wand from a holster bolted to the examining table and flicked off the overhead lights.
“This is an ultraviolet laser. We use it to search for bodily fluids the human eye cannot see.”
As she spoke, an intense green light arrowed through the darkness and found a piece of the torn shirt. Nicole continued talking as she played the light across the garment.
“Different wavelengths of light react with different fluids, causing them to glow. Depending on how I set the laser, I can pick up bloodstains, saliva, and, of course, everyone’s favorite, semen.”
“What color is semen?”
“Yellow’s the lucky color. Sort of like that right there.”
Nicole pointed a gloved finger to the lower right side of the garment. I saw a spray of yellow, translucent against the lasered green, just below a large bloodstain. Nicole carefully marked the location with pins and photographed the site. Then she examined the rest of the garment, finding three other possible hits. After an hour she turned off the laser and flicked on the lights.
“We got something.”
“You think so?”
Nicole took a pair of scissors and carefully began to cut at the areas she had marked with pins.
“I’ll run a presumptive chemical test, but you can take it on credit. Someone left semen on that shirt.”
Each piece of shirt was placed into an evidence bag and tagged. Nicole shut down the inspection area and led me back to her workstation.
“I can start DNA extraction tonight.”
“How long will that take?”
“Usually we’re talking six weeks. If I drop everything, I can have preliminary results back in twenty-four hours.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Two things. First, I want this piece of evidence out of my life as soon as possible. Second, I think you need to get your friend in contact with some people I know.”
“After this is done, I’ll talk to her.”
“Do that, Michael.”
“Fine. Now, here’s a question. Say we get a profile. Then what?”
“Let me guess,” Nicole said. “You want a run through CODIS?”
CODIS was the state’s genetic databank, home to the DNA of thousands of felons from across the country.
“Is that possible?” I said.
“It might get flagged, but I can probably hide it. The real problem comes if you get a match. You’d have a name and not a thing you could do about it.”
“Legally,” I said.
“That’s right, Michael. Legally. Your evidence is probably tainted, as well as the CODIS search.”
“Let’s just get the name, Nicole. After that I’ll figure out the rest.”
My friend was about to respond when voices drifted down the corridor. Nicole packaged up the shirt and slid it into a drawer behind her desk.
“I’ll hang on to this and give you a call when I get something.”
She pulled one of her cards from a pocket and wrote on the back.
“Unless I miss my guess, you have no discernible social life these days. At least this will get you out of the house.”
Nicole pushed the card across the table. On the reverse she had written “Drake Hotel, Friday, 8 p.m.”
“It’s this Friday. In the main ballroom. Don’t be late, and wear something you haven’t picked up off the floor. That means black tie.”
“What am I attending?”
“A fund-raiser. For the Rape Volunteer Association. All these issues we’ve been talking about and maybe some help for your girl. There will be a lot of women there.”
I smiled.
“Don’t be too happy. It’s going to cost you five hundred dollars to get in.”
“That’s okay.”
“And most of the women you meet will have been raped. So watch your step. By the way, Ms. Lindsay will be there.”
“Really?”
“Yes, indeed. So we can see you two together, out on the town.”
I felt my face grow a little warm and dropped my eyes.
“So you two are sleeping together,” Nicole said.
“It’s not like that.”
“It never is. But she’ll be there anyway. Now get out of here. I still have a couple hours’ worth of work to get through.”
“Thanks, Nicole.”
“Don’t thank me until you see what I can do.”
She didn’t sound happy. I couldn’t blame her. I didn’t have the right to ask for her help, but I did anyway. Now we’d all live with the consequences.
CHAPTER 27
I left the lab at a little after nine o’clock. Evening traffic was light, and I drove carelessly toward the lake, dangerously close to Annie’s high-rise. At times it seemed my car had a mind of its own. Took the lefts and rights needed to put me on her block. I’d sit for an hour or so in the darkness. Not watching. Not really. Not stalking. Just a chance to be. To think. Essentially, to torture myself.
Tonight, however, the car zigged when it should have zagged. Took a left away from Annie’s place and into some sort of future. Diane opened the door before I got up her front stairs. She didn’t ask about my day, didn’t want to talk about the night before or tomorrow. We just had a drink and enjoyed the quiet. Sometimes that’s enough. This was one of those times. Then we went to bed. I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.
CHAPTER 28
River North is Chicago’s answer to Soho on the East Coast and Venice Beach on the West. Not much of an answer, but what the hell, it’s the Midwest.
Twenty years ago the area was rife with tumbledown hotels and warehouses. Today the warehouses are art galleries; the flophouses, million-dollar condos. The sidewalks are wide, clean, and full of admen dressed in Ted Baker and carrying portfolios. The women are nice to look at. Younger, in their twenties and early thirties, they wear low-riders and belly rings. Tattooed and perpetually cell-phoned, they curl themselves around a Cosmo at bars like the Martini Ranch, waiting to be discovered or better yet, find an investment banker who will carry them off to a
