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“So… I’m in Wisconsin, and shit went sideways.”

“Okay…?” He sounded uncertain. I didn’t blame him.

“I just texted you a picture of a… smudge from a crime scene. On a window. It’s like two weeks old at this point, and I need to know if there could still be DNA or some shit if there happens to be snot or something in the smudge.”

“Oh. Yeah. There would be. If there was enough to collect when it was wet, there should still be enough in the dry if you collect it right.”

“And how would I do that?”

Even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he’d be blinking rapidly, trying to figure out what was going on. “Um. Why areyoudoing it?”

I sighed. Here we go again. I didn’t tell him the whole thing, just the bit about Gregory Crane’s murder-not-suicide and having found evidence in the office where he was killed that the cops either ignored or missed or put there themselves.

“Oh, boy,” was what he came back with when I finished.

“Yeah, I’m kinda fucked here, but I’m trying to do this as right as I possibly can and not fuck up the evidence.”

“Well… since DNA evidence in dried spit will last in theory for up to five years… I’d say just leave it alone and tell somebody to come get it later?”

“That’s not helpful, Mays.” I didn’t want to risk that—that someone would brush against it, or that Elliot would deep-clean the office or something. He was making noises about doing that in the basement already.

“You need sterile swabs and distilled water.”

I had neither of those. “I know where I can get the water, but where do I get sterile swabs?” I was pretty sure Q-tips from the bathroom did not count as sterile.

“Medical supply company?” A pause. “Uh, Hart, is there a reason you aren’t having this conversation with the local cops?”

“Well, the coroner either deliberately left off information or is fucking incompetent, and the same pretty much goes for the Shawano PD,” I told him. “Since they either missed or left mud and a button.”

“Right. Um. I still say you try to get somebody to bring back a CSI team. Because even if you cangeta decent sample, how are you going to test for DNA?”

That was a very valid question to which I did not have an answer. “I don’t fucking know, Mays. But I’d have the evidence if I did manage to convince somebody to do something about it.”

“And as long as you can preserve the integrity of the scene, you’ll have it if you don’t try to do it yourself, too,” he pointed out, annoyingly reasonably.

The extra-irritating part was that I knew he was right—that I should leave it alone and just tell Elliot not to come in here or go anywhere near the windows. But it bothered me that the evidence wasthere, but it hadn’t been collected. I sighed. “Fuck. Thanks, Mays.”

“Sure?” He still sounded confused, and I guess I didn’t blame him. “Hart—”

“If you ask me if I’m okay, I might spit,” I interrupted. Because I was starting to get sick of people asking if I was okay. Ward, every time I talked to him. Raj. And now fucking Mays. To say nothing of my mother, who had asked me ifIwas okay and if Elliot was okay literally every single day she hadn’t seen me and asked in person.

“Ooookaay,” came the response. “I won’t ask.” And then he waited.

“You do realize that’s just fucking asking, right?”

“I’m going to take that as a ‘not really,’ then. Is there anything else I can do?” Even fucking Mays was worried about me. Jesus fucking Christ, I had to get my shit together.

“Not unless you want to fly out here and do some evidence collection for me,” I answered. “And no, I don’t actually expect you to do that.”

“That’s good, because I don’t think I can afford the plane ticket. But if you need more… advice, you can call or text anytime.”

“Thanks, Mays.” I was actually getting pretty good at being semi-polite on the phone, thanks to Ward’s influence. Look at me being more of a decent person. Ish.

“No problem. Let me know what happens?”

“I will.” I hit the red button to end the call, then tapped the side of my phone against my chin.

Now I just had to figure out how the fuck I was going to convince someone whocoulddo something about this to actuallydoit.