Unholy Shepherd by Robert Christian (classic literature list .txt) 📗

taken an orientation tour after being hired by the Police Department. He hadn’t thought at the time he’d ever be back investigating a double homicide. Manny knew that the lab was at the rear of the building and down the stairs to the lower level. Their luck held out. No one stopped them or questioned their presence, and he was able to find the set of stairs that he was looking for, descending down into the basement.

At the bottom of the stairs, Manny found a sign pointing to the lab and followed the arrow to another sign and another hall before they were finally confronted by a pair of steel doors. He took a moment to gather himself. The reason for coming here was to find out about the missing accelerant report. That was what he had told Maureen. What he hadn’t told her was that he also wanted to see if they had gotten DNA out of the vomit sample that he’d taken from the jail cell. And if so, if it was a match to the crime scene.

Manny took a deep breath and pushed through the doors as if he were an old west gunslinger walking into a saloon. In his mind, he felt like a fool, but he reasoned that if he looked confident enough walking in, someone would be more likely to talk to him and give up the information he was looking for.

The lab was quiet. The smell of alcohol mixed with other cleaning agents hit Manny’s nose as he wandered among the tables of laboratory supplies toward the opposite end of the room.

“Hello?” Manny called out. Maureen stayed silent behind him.

After a moment, Dr. Winherst’s young assistant came out of an office from somewhere in the back. He was carrying a box of neatly labeled samples in evidence bags, balancing it carefully.

“It’s Derrick, right?” said Manny, hoping that a more gentle and familiar approach would loosen the young man’s tongue.

“Yes, sir,” answered Derrick as he placed the box on a table and dusted his hands on the side of the lab coat.

“I don’t know if you remember me,” Manny continued, pulling out his badge from his pocket and holding it up, “but I’m Detective Manny Benitez of the Sycamore Hills PD. We met briefly at the crime scene of the Lowes murder.”

“Sure, I remember, Detective,” he said, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He seemed nervous. Manny pegged the young man as the type who was likely a whiz in the lab but lacked the social skills to confidently speak to someone he thought of as his superior.

“I believe that Dr. Winherst brought back a sample of a supposed accelerant possibly used to start the fire at the second crime scene,” Manny continued in his formal tone. “I was wondering if the tests on the substance had come back with anything.”

“Well, yes, but . . . ,” Derrick stammered uncomfortably.

“But, what?” Manny pressed him.

“Well, I’m not sure I’m supposed to discuss that with you,” he said sheepishly. He leaned in to Manny and lowered his voice. “I heard that you weren’t working the case anymore.”

“And just who told you that?”

“Dr. Winherst.”

Damn! Manny felt his face twist in frustration, and he turned away from Derrick, hoping to conceal his feelings. He found himself looking at Maureen, who was standing like a statue and observing the whole scene. Her face broke slowly into a sly smile as she roused herself and stepped past him, patting him on the shoulder as if she had interpreted his reaction as a silent plea for help.

“C’mon, kiddo,” she said, stepping up to Derrick and tracing a finger down his chest. “Would we be here if we weren’t helping with the case?”

The young man’s tongue seemed to stick in his throat. Eventually, Derrick managed to pull his eyes off the woman in front of him and looked at Manny. “Who is she?” he asked.

“She’s my partner,” said Manny.

“That’s right, we’re partners. And we can’t afford to wait. There’s a sicko out there killing kids. So chop, chop! Let’s see the info that the detective asked for.”

Derrick hesitated for a second, clearly not sure what to do.

“Now!” Maureen shouted, helping to force his feet into action.

“Subtle,” Manny whispered as they followed the young man over to a bank of computers.

“Hey, it’s what you brought me for, isn’t it?” She seemed very proud of herself.

“Just don’t get carried away. We don’t need to draw more attention to ourselves than necessary.”

“Yes, Detective,” she said, giving him a mocking salute.

“Manny,” he said.

Maureen just rolled her eyes and turned around.

By the time they came up behind Derrick seated at one of the computers, he had already pulled up the report. Manny tried to read over his shoulder, but got lost almost instantly in the chemical formulas and CSI shorthand that littered the screen.

“So you said you guys figured out what the accelerant was,” Manny said, flipping to a fresh page in his notebook. “What can you tell me about it?”

“It says here that the substance is comprised mostly of oleic and linoleic acids, with some other triglycerides and a very limited amount of diglycerides and monoglycerides,” Derrick replied, reading off the screen. “Dr. Winherst notes that the concentration of each would tend to indicate a type of vegetable oil, most likely olive.”

“Olive oil?” Manny said, puzzled.

“That’s what the report says,” Derrick said, pointing at the screen.

“Anything else?”

“Um, there does seem to be something else here,” the young man said, punching a key to scroll down the page. “Dr. Winherst indicates an abnormal concentration of Commiphora gileadensis.”

“What is that?” Manny asked.

“I don’t really know,” Derrick said. “It’s a scientific name for some kind of plant, that much I can recognize, but it’s not really my area.”

“Okay, how about you just spell it for me,” Manny said, readying his pen.

Derrick spelled the two words for him once and then again when Manny couldn’t keep up the first time.

“Okay, one more thing,” Manny said. “You remember that vomit