Page 54 of The Bone Code
When I looked up, the TV was silent, and Ryan was poking the fire.
I spent most of Sunday in further death mask exploration. Again, learned nothing germane to Beecroft.
The following week and weekend were rinse and repeat. Cold cycle.
DNA turnaround isn’t flash-bang as depicted on TV. Results take time. I knew that. Still, the wait made me edgy.
I phoned Vislosky twice. Got identical feedback in both conversations. Using my profiles, she was pursuing multiple lines of inquiry: MP reports, schools, hospitals, old Amber alerts, juvenile arrest records. So far, she was coming up blank.
I got the call the second Monday out, an hour after arriving at the lab. Ten days after submitting the femora for DNA testing. Willoughby’s preliminary report was finally available. I hurried to see her.
Willoughby was visible through one of the corridor windows, at the control panel of a complicated-looking machine. When I tapped on the glass, she buzzed me in.
“Bonjour, hi.” Today Willoughby’s lids were teal. At least, the one I could see. Her hair, now shaved on the left, was streaked with purple and draping her forehead on the right.
“Hi,” I said, searching the tech’s face for a hint. Good news? Bad news?
“Let’s go to my desk,” she said.
We did. Without sitting, or smiling, Willoughby scooped up and handed me two printouts.
I skimmed the top of the first page, translating as I read.Name; Offense; Case number; Priority; Date requested; Date completed; Date reported; Requested by; Completed by.
Below that,Evidence received: 1 right femur in sealed container labeled LSJML-41207.
My gaze fired to the bottom of the form, to the data that interested me.
Results: Human DNA was recovered and quantified from the femur.
Yes!
The recovered DNA was characterized through polymerase chain reaction (PCR) with analysis of the amelogenin locus for sex determination and the following short tandem repeat (STR) loci.
A paragraph listed the loci.
Heart banging, I read the second printout.
My eyes flew up. Willoughby was watching me, arms crossed on her chest.
“Awesome!” I almost high-fived her.
She shrugged.
“You managed to profile both.”
“Did you doubt me?” The crimson lips hitched up slightly at one corner.
“Never. How did you do it?”
“Purify and amplify, baby.” A DNA catchphrase?
“I imagine techniques have come a long way since 2006.”
“And equipment.”
“You ranked my request as top priority. I owe you.”
“Wouldn’t turn down a bottle of Jimmy B.”
