The Night Killer

Diane stepped back into the shadows of one of the Gothic arches and watched. A waitress brought them more tea. She picked up the old glasses and put them on a tray. Diane didn’t take her eyes off the tray, and when the waitress was within a few feet of her, Diane stopped her and, taking a napkin from her take-out bag, lifted the glass from the tray, holding it as near the bottom as she could with the clean napkin.
    “An experiment,” she said, and smiled at the waitress.
    The waitress didn’t seem to find it odd and just smiled as Diane took the glass. Diane quickly turned on her heel and walked from the restaurant to the bank of elevators. She used her key to take the private elevator to the third floor, where she walked to the crime lab. On the way she called Deven Jin, her director of the DNA lab.
    “Jin, meet me in the crime lab immediately,” she said when he answered.
    “Sure, boss, is something—”
    “Now,” she said, and closed the phone.
    Diane pocketed her phone, punched her code into the security keypad outside the entrance to the crime lab, and opened the door. There was no one in the lab. She was about to call David when the elevator doors opened and he entered, followed by Izzy. They were carrying their crime scene cases. She sat down at the meeting table while they stored their evidence bags and washed up, drumming her fingers on the table as she waited.
    Her mind reeled with a combination of surprise, anger, and triumph at finding the stranger in the woods. He had helped her when she desperately needed help and she had felt gratitude. But now it looked as if he was using Andie.
    How? her mind asked.
    She couldn’t answer that, but his presence at the museum, easing himself into Andie’s life, was too much of a coincidence. It had to have something to do with Diane herself.
    What? I don’t know , she answered herself.
    She was afraid he was involved with the Barres’ death—and he had Andie falling in love with him.
    Jin came in through the museum side, followed by Scott and Hector. Diane wondered why they had tagged along. The DNA lab was a very busy lab. Then she remembered it was lunchtime and conceded that even her lab personnel had to eat.
    “What’s up, boss?” asked Jin.
    “Hey, Diane,” said David.
    The two of them sat down opposite Diane and stared at her. Scott and Hector pulled up chairs nearby but away from the table.
    “You look like you’re ready to rip someone a new one,” David said.
    Diane cocked an eyebrow. “Do I? I’ll have to work on hiding my emotions,” she said. “I want you to run the fingerprints on this glass. Use all methods at your disposal to identify them. It’s your highest priority.”
    David looked startled; so did Jin. Diane didn’t think Izzy was in the loop on David’s access to databases. But Jin was. Some of David’s resources were rarely used, because he wasn’t supposed to have access to them. They were to be used in dire emergencies only.
    “Okay,” David said, stretching out the word.
    Diane turned to Jin. “I want you to take the DNA from this glass and give me a photograph of what this man looks like,” she said. She emphasized the word photograph .
    “Dr. Fallon, one can’t get a photograph from an analysis of . . .”
    Diane shot a look at Scott. She had learned to tell them apart without noticing what color shirts they had on—Hector, the older one, always wore a shirt with a color of higher wavelength than Scott. Of course, their names on their lab coats helped.
    “She’s speaking in hyperbole,” said Hector.
    “Oh,” said Scott.
    Diane looked back at Jin. “I want a complete genetic profile,” she said. She encompassed both David and Jin with her gaze. “And I want it three days ago.”
    “Wow,” said Jin. “Whose glass is this?”
    “That is what you are going to tell me,” she said, and stood up, still unconsciously drumming her fingers on the table. “I have to get back to the museum. Is everything running smoothly here?”
    “Slick as can be,” said David.
    “Izzy, I left my SUV in the impound lot,” she said.
    “We saw it when we came in,” he said. “Did you have an accident?”
    “Not exactly,” said Diane. “When you have time, I need you to have a look at the paint traces I collected. I locked them in the vault. I would also like you to check it from bumper to bumper and see if I missed anything that could be used to find the truck that hit me.”
    “A couple of things,” said