Page 40 of Her Frozen Heart

“It’s a fillet knife,” he said. “I’ve nicked myself hundreds of times.”

“Which is why I’m hoping you will give us your DNA. If you’re innocent, then this will only help to get us off your back.”

“I don’t want to give my DNA.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have to,” he snapped back. “I’m not going to let you get my DNA and then pin something on me.”

Nikki unlocked her phone and showed him the cued-up warrant. “All I’m trying to do is clear you, Danny.”

“You won’t run it through all your databases?” he asked. “You people keep track of everything.”

“Legally, I can’t do that,” she said. “This warrant is very clear that it only covers DNA taken to compare on the fillet knife.” That didn’t mean that she couldn’t act if a hit came back, but Danny didn’t need to hear that right now.

“Fine,” he relented. “But no needles.”

“No need.” Nikki put on latex gloves and then opened the package containing the swab. “Open your mouth, please.” She swirled the Q-tip twice and then put it back in the secure container.

Danny wiped his mouth. “Gross.”

Nikki ignored his complaint. “Your wife sells the pot, then? Does her cousin grow it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stuck out his jaw, arms across his soft chest. “You got your DNA, Agent. I’d like you to leave now.”

“See you soon, Danny.”

THIRTEEN

1992

Emmanuel sat on one of the hard, plastic chairs in the school’s main office, waiting for his turn with the principal. Stupid Mrs. Martin. Emmanuel’s notebook was his property, and he could draw what he wanted in it. Why was he in trouble for some dumb girl looking over his shoulder? Stupid bitch should have minded her own business.

But no, she had to get all prissy and pissy and tell the homeroom teacher. Now he was sitting here instead of in math, where he was already struggling.

The principal’s door opened, and Emmanuel tried not to stare at the pretty freshman walking out. Her hair was so dark and wavy, like his grandma’s had been. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and plopped down next to him with a dramatic sigh.

His entire body tensed when she sat down. He waited for her to give him the same look as most other kids and move down a chair. If they weren’t making fun of his clothes, they pointed and laughed at his pimple-ridden face.

“What are you in for?” she asked.

Emmanuel stared at her. Was she just making conversation, or setting him up only to make fun of him later?

“What?” she demanded. “Do I have a booger or something?”

He tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a dying gasp. “Uh, no.”

“Then answer my question.”

“I drew things in my notebook the teacher didn’t like.”

She twisted to face him, her striking blue eyes laser-focused on him. “Oooh, a naked lady?”

Emmanuel nodded.

The girl laughed gleefully. “Which teacher?”

“Mrs. Martin.”

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