Page 6 of Under Pressure

“I want you out of my life,” she called out to no one.

All she could see was a momentary crack of daylight as the back door opened and shut. A hollowing silence filled the space, and she felt an emptiness inside. The man she’d thought of too much for an entire year had disappeared once again. Yet this time, it was just as she’d asked.

“Kendra!” Hunter called from the front of the building, pulling her attention back to reality.

She turned to her boss’ voice, disoriented, expecting to wake up from a dream.

“Kendra! Where are you? I told you this was fucking gang related.”

Hunter’s calls drove an undeniable feeling within her. She wished it were another man calling her name.

She turned to leave but remembered the lump at her foot. Reaching down in the shadows, she fumbled for Delta’s forgotten glove—the only piece of evidence that proved it wasn’t a dream at all. Walking back into the main room where there was light and she could get a better look, she ran her fingers over the rough black material of the glove. Surprised, she observed holes in it from overuse and detected a substance akin to dried blood on a few of the knuckles.

What the hell has he been up to?

Chapter Three

“The components are separated,” the laboratorian called over to Kendra as she reviewed the centrifuge results across the counter. “Can you pass me my notebook?”

“Sure, just give me a second,” Kendra mumbled back, glued to her own analysis.

Carefully, Kendra repositioned Delta’s glove on her lab plate, getting a better angle of it under the microscope. The glove was black and tactical—like something the military would issue. She knew that type of gear well from her early policing days on the road, having been issued something similar. With reminders like those, she thanked her lucky stars that she’d gotten in with LAPD’s forensics lab, leveraging her master’s in science. She’d settled right into the behind-the-scenes role, trying to forget every bad call she’d made in uniform.

Delta’s glove really told a story. The knuckles were well used, with rips and holes, like someone had been punching concrete walls—or concrete faces. Knowing him, anything was possible. Kendra was validated to see indicators of blood, just as she had supposed. It wasn’t that fresh, but it wasn’t too old either. His knuckles must have bled through at some point recently, leaving a trace on the stiff material. But why had his hand been bleeding? Surely, he couldn’t actually be punching concrete. Idle curiosity flowed through her mind. What did that man get up to at night?

“Cooling sufficient.” The feminine voice of her colleague carried back to Kendra. “May want to consider a deeper impression.”

“Were we able to collect an appropriate sample?” Kendra tilted her head, looking up from Delta’s glove, gazing around the small gray-and-white forensics lab.

“Depends on what you need this to tell you.” Lily, the young laboratorian, glanced up and smiled at Kendra.

Kendra stilled. What exactly was she after? It was the first of many questions she hoped to answer. Aside from what type of substances were on the glove and where had he been, she was struggling with how to articulate what she was ultimately after without sounding like a psychopath.

Gazing over at her colleague, Kendra studied the young woman with a knotted black bun who was deep in thought, a line expanding between her barely-there eyebrows. Lily, a recent master’s graduate, was a breath of fresh air in the lab, where they processed certain types of substances.

“You know, I really would like the department to invest in a more sensitive machine,” she explained to Kendra. “You’d think the high-and-mighty LAPD would actually put money into its forensic lab.”

“We aren’t as fancy as your Harvard lab,” Kendra countered. “But we sure as hell are lucky to have you.”

Lily let out a low chuckle, tilting her head in knowing. Then she narrowed her eyes on Kendra, eyeing the glove. She tucked a loose lock of pin-straight black hair behind her ear, focusing on the seizure.

“So, have you found something?” Lily probed. “I know that look on your face.”

Kendra shook her head. “All I’ve found is doubt that we have enough of a sample to tell us anything. The substance on the fabric is less than fresh.”

“Well, which case is this related to?” Lily asked as she approached, her white lab coat swishing as she walked.

Kendra looked back up at her student, not really wanting to say it. It was the first and only time that she had ever brought something into the lab for personal reasons. She was guilty enough about it, let alone explaining to Lily what her intentions were. And that guilt was powerful.

“It’s not related specifically…to a case,” Kendra admitted, her poker face unpracticed. “But I think it’s blood.”

“I see,” Lily said softly, understanding. She moved forward to scrutinize the glove and continued, “Hmm—the blood is all dried up, but we should be able to profile the DNA. We’ll need the PCR for this one, of course.”

“It was discarded, to be clear,” Kendra iterated, in reference to the glove. She didn’t want Lily to assume she was breaking any rules. She wasn’t. A discarded possession was fair game in the eyes of the law.

Lily nodded.

“It’s just something I want to check out,” Kendra concluded.

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