‘‘. . . apply for... job, not beat him up.’’ ‘‘I didn’t... wasn’t taking applications...’’ ‘‘. . . you’ve screwed...upnow...’’
‘‘Easy to fix...’’
There was the sound of a door opening.
‘‘What the hell do you want?’’ Bryce’s voice was no
longer in hushed tones.
‘‘Oh, sorry.’’ The new baritone voice was David’s.
‘‘I need some evidence envelopes. The four-by-nine
inch size. And a resupply of phenolphthalein for my
blood test kit—here we go.’’
She heard some rattling of supplies.
‘‘We have more supplies in the cabinets if you can’t
find what you’re looking for,’’ David said.
‘‘If you have what you need, go,’’ said Bryce. ‘‘Sure thing,’’ she heard David say, and the door
closed again.
Diane smiled. She didn’t have any doubt that David
interrupted them on purpose just to make Bryce un
comfortable. She immediately
David wasn’t getting reckless
frowned. She hoped in his dealings with Bryce. It wasn’t like David to be reckless, but lately
he’d been so moody. She let the thought slide. Diane stood there, reluctant to move, not wanting
to be heard near the wall. For several moments they
said nothing. Then Curtis spoke.
‘‘I have to go... later.’’
She heard the door open and close—presumably
leaving Bryce in the closet by himself. The oddity of
it brought another half smile to her lips. Strange. After
a moment she heard the door open and close again.
After another moment, she stepped back from the
wall quietly.
Chapter 4
Diane was disturbed by Bryce and his employees, but it was nothing she could put her finger on. There was just something not right about the way Bryce was try ing to encroach on the DNA lab. David said Bryce was a control freak. It was probably nothing, just his aggressive, slimy personality.
If she was honest, she thought to herself, there was a tiny speck of truth to Bryce’s accusation. She had been angry when the new chief of police, Edgar Peeks, showed up with no warning and introduced Bryce as her replacement as director of the crime lab. But that was three months ago and had nothing to do with Curtis Crabtree coming down to the DNA lab insisting on a job. Diane shook the nagging feelings as she left for home.
Home. That was another change in Diane’s life of late. Her neighbors had asked her to move out of her apartment because, through no fault of her own, too many unsettling and sometimes horrific things had happened there. The neighbors had been awakened by the arrival of the police just one too many times, and they were frightened. Diane understood that. Everyone needs peace in their lives.
She was staying with Frank Duncan temporarily until she found herself a new place. Frank was a detec tive in the Metro-Atlanta Fraud and Computer Foren sics Unit. Atlanta wasn’t far from Rosewood, and Frank drove into the city daily to work. He wanted her to move in with him permanently. She was think ing about it, but she was also thinking that she wanted her own house. Despite Frank’s terrific hospitality, she still felt like a guest. Somehow, coming into someone’s house and using it as her own didn’t seem right to her.
However,
working out
for the moment, the arrangement was better than she had expected. She had
gained a measure of peace in her own life by moving in with Frank. And if the truth be known, no longer being director of the crime lab gave her time—a price less commodity. She had time to design the new pri mate exhibit, she had more time to spend with Frank, she was learning to play the piano, and she’d been caving three times this month alone. And she was even considering getting a dog, maybe an Irish wolfhound or a Lab. Life was good. She was thinking about her good life as she turned into the driveway.
Frank’s house was a Queen Anne set back from the road. It was a house much like Frank—traditional, reliable, solid. It had polished hardwood floors, sandcolored walls, and oak and walnut furniture as substan tial as the house itself. It always smelled like furniture polish and always shined.
Frank wasn’t there when Diane arrived. He’d left a message on his answering machine saying he wouldn’t be back until the following day. It wasn’t uncommon— Frank traveled a lot in his job—but it was a shame; it was nice when they both got home early. Diane spent the evening watching the Sci Fi channel—that was also nice. Frank wasn’t the science fiction fan she was, and Diane would not subject him to a Star Trek marathon if he was home.
Frank called just before Diane got into bed.
‘‘How was your day?’’ she asked as she snuggled into the softness of the down mattress.
