VIRGIL

Even if I’d been able to find the body that was buried ten years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to get a court order. I don’t know what I was thinking I’d resort to, shy of sneaking into a graveyard, Frankenstein-style, to dig up a corpse that I had assumed was Nevvie Ruehl. But before a body is released to a funeral home, the medical examiner does the autopsy. And the autopsy would have had a DNA sample taken by the state lab, stored somewhere in FTA card files for posterity.

No way in hell am I going to be able to get the state lab to cough up evidence to me, now that I’m a civilian. Which means I have to find someone they would give it to. So a half hour later, I’m leaning on the ledge of the evidence room at the Boone PD, sweet-talking Ralph again. “You’re back?” He sighs.

“What can I say? I missed you desperately. You haunt my dreams.”

“I already took a chance letting you in last time, Virgil. I’m not risking my job for you.”

“Ralph, you and I both know that the chief wouldn’t give this job to anyone else. You’re like the Hobbit guarding the ring, man.”

“What?”

“You’re the Dee Brown of the department. Without him, nobody would have even known the Celtics existed in the nineties, right?”

Ralph’s wrinkles deepen as he grins. “Well, now you’re talking,” he says. “It’s true. These young guys don’t know their ass from their elbow. I come down here every morning and someone’s moved crap around, trying to classify it some newfangled computerized way, and you know what happens? Shit gets lost. So I move it back where it belongs. You know what I say—if it ain’t broke …”

I nod like I’m hanging on his every word. “This is what I’m talking about. You’re the central nervous system of this outfit, Ralph. Without you, everything would fall apart. That’s why I knew you were the right guy to turn to for help.”

He shrugs, trying to look humble. I wonder if he realizes I’m good-copping him, buttering him up so that I can get something out of him in return. Up in the break room, officers are probably still talking about how he’s senile and so slow-moving that he could drop dead in the evidence room and no one would notice for a week.

“You remember how I was reviewing an old case, right?” I say, leaning closer, so that he’s in on the secret. “I’m trying to get a DNA sample from the blood that was taken by the state lab. Any chance you could place a few calls, make that happen?”

“I would if I could, Virgil. But the state lab’s pipes burst five years ago. They lost eight whole years’ worth of evidence when the FTA cards were destroyed. It’s like 1999 through 2007 never happened.” The smile on my face stiffens. “Thanks anyway,” I tell him, and I slip out of the PD before anyone can see me.

I’m still trying to figure out how I’m going to break this news to Jenna when I pull up to my office building and see Serenity’s VW Bug parked out front. As soon as I get out of my truck, Jenna is in my face, peppering me with questions. “What did you find out? Is there a way to figure out who was buried? What about the fact that it’s been ten years, is that going to be a problem?”

I glance at her. “Did you bring me coffee?”

“What?” she says. “No.”

“Then get me some and come back. It’s too early for the third degree.”

I climb the stairs to my office, aware that Jenna and Serenity are trailing behind. I unlock the door, stepping over the hills of evidence to get to my desk chair, where I collapse. “It’s going to be more challenging than I thought to find a DNA sample from whoever we identified as Nevvie Ruehl ten years ago.”

Serenity looks around the office, which is marginally more disarrayed than a bomb site. “It’s a wonder you can find anything at all in here, sugar.”

“I wasn’t looking here,” I argue, wondering why I am even bothering to explain the flowchart of police evidence preservation to someone who probably believes in magic, and then my eye falls on the small envelope tossed on top of the other detritus on my desk.

Inside is the fingernail I’d found in the seam of the victim’s uniform shirt.

The same uniform shirt that had freaked Jenna out, because it was stiff with blood.

Tallulah takes one look at Serenity and throws her arms around me. “Victor, this is so sweet of you. We never get to hear how the stuff we do in the lab plays out in the real world.” She beams at Jenna. “You must be so happy to have your mom back.”

“Oh, I’m not—” Serenity says, at the same time Jenna goes, “Um, not quite.”

“Actually,” I explain, “we haven’t found Jenna’s mother yet. Serenity’s helping me out with the case. She’s a … psychic.”

Tallulah makes a beeline for Serenity. “I had this aunt? She told me her whole life she was going to leave me her diamond earrings. But she dropped dead without a will, and wouldn’t you know it, those earrings never turned up. I’d love to know which one of my sleazy cousins stole them.”

“I’ll let you know if I hear anything,” Serenity murmurs.

I lift up the paper bag I have brought to the lab. “I need another favor, Lulu.”