Murderer

Anna drew a sterile swab from her pocket and carefully scraped the dark residue from under Catherine's fingernails, depositing it in a clear specimen container. She turned to me, her expression intent. “This needs to be analyzed immediately. If we can match the DNA, we’ll know whose blood this is.” “How long will it take?” I asked. “The lab here has rapid testing equipment. We should have preliminary results within an hour.” Anna put the container in an insulated case and helped me out of the morgue. Outside, the hallway was cold and stark, lit by harsh fluorescent lights that stretched our shadows along the floor. I sat on a bench in the hallway and watched Anna as she hurried toward the lab. The clock on the wall ticked loudly—each second felt painfully slow. I pulled out my phone and hesitated over Devon's number. He was certainly dealing with a frontier stand-off; I must not distract him now. Clutching the phone, I sent a silent plea: Let this be the proof we need... At last the l