The Perfect Alibi (Robin Lockwood #2)(41)

“Oh?”

“There’s a lab in town that uses low-template DNA analysis to determine genetic probabilities when analyzing minuscule amounts of genetic material that other methods can’t interpret.”

“Okay,” said Kellerman, who had no idea what the forensic expert was talking about.

“I don’t remember the name of the lab offhand, but I can look it up and see if they can do something with it. It’s a long shot.”

“Try it. We’ve got nothing to lose. And Peter, if they can analyze the sample, have the lab call me with the result. No sense making you act as a middle man.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO


After Blaine Hastings Jr. went on the run, life at Robin’s condo fell into a routine. In the morning, Jeff would drive Robin to her gym or the office. In the evening, he would drive her home. After checking to make sure no one was inside Robin’s apartment, Jeff would whip up a delicious meal. Then Jeff and Robin would read, work, or watch TV. When they got tired, Robin would go to sleep in her bedroom and Jeff would sack out on the couch.

“This has gotten very domestic,” Robin joked one night when they were seated side by side on the couch, watching a movie.

Jeff smiled. “We have started acting like an old married couple.”

Robin returned the smile. “That’s not so bad, is it?”

They looked at each other, and Jeff stopped smiling. Then he looked away.

Robin put a hand on his arm. “I really appreciate what you’re doing.”

“Hastings is dangerous,” Jeff said.

Robin took a deep breath. “Vanessa called this afternoon, right before we left the office. They think Hastings is probably out of the country.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Robin looked directly at Jeff. “I was afraid you’d stop staying with me.”

When Jeff didn’t say anything, Robin said, “You don’t have to sleep on the couch tonight. You can stay with me.”

Jeff looked nervous. “We discussed this in Atlanta, Robin.”

“I almost died in Atlanta. When I asked you to make love to me, you were right when you said it was my adrenaline talking. It’s not now. I care about you, Jeff. And I think you care, too, or you wouldn’t be here every night, protecting me.”

“An office romance is a bad idea,” Jeff said, sounding like a man torn between duty and desire.

“It can be, but it doesn’t have to be. Making love isn’t a trivial decision for me. I don’t sleep around, and I don’t think you do. If you care about me as much as I do for you, you shouldn’t be sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Jeff hesitated.

Robin gathered her courage. Then she leaned into Jeff and kissed him.

Jeff tensed for a second. Then he said, “God damn it, Robin,” and he crushed her in his arms.



* * *



Robin woke up with a big smile. She’d wondered what Jeff would be like in bed, and now she knew.

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” Jeff said.

“Who put the stupid look on my face, Mr. Hodges?” Robin said as she reached under the covers.

Jeff slapped her hand. “Stop that. You have to be in court at nine, and we don’t have time for any more debauchery.”

“Not even for a quickie?” Robin asked with an evil smile.

“Cut it out or I’ll dial 911.”

Robin faked a frown. “You’re no fun.”

Jeff kissed her and rolled out of bed.

Robin had been relieved to find out that the explosion that had scarred Jeff’s face had not impaired his other functions, and she’d been right when she guessed that he would be a considerate lover. Actually, he’d been much more than considerate. He’d been downright accommodating.





PART FOUR



OCCAM’S RAZOR





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


A month after Frank Nylander’s murder, Blaine Hastings Jr. was still a fugitive. Hastings or an unknown burglar were the popular choices for the person who had murdered Frank Nylander, but Rex Kellerman was not satisfied that Hastings had murdered Nylander. His focus had always been on Douglas Armstrong, who still claimed to have no memory of where he was or what had happened on the evening his law partner was killed. Then, just as Nylander’s murder was about to become a cold case, Kellerman received a call with some very interesting news.

“Is this Rex Kellerman?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Greg Nilson with Nilson Forensics. Peter Okonjo told me to call if I got a result on that blood sample he sent me.”

“What blood sample is that?”

“Mr. Okonjo said it was in a murder case. The victim was a Frank Nylander.”

Kellerman sat up. “What did you find?”

“Well, it’s inconclusive, but the DNA might be a match for a man named Douglas Armstrong.”

Now Kellerman was really interested. “Mr. Nilson, I have to be in court in fifteen minutes. Do you have some time later today to talk about this? It’s very important.”

“I’m free after two.”

“That’s perfect. Why don’t I buy you coffee, and you can walk me through what you did?”