Page 8

BLACK LIGHT

Pember

Stop overthinking .

Pember cleared his throat and shook his hand, because what else could he do?

As his gaze travelled from the fingers to the alpha’s face, he found Blake glaring at him with an expression so cold it made him shiver. Pember took a step back, but the alpha gripped his hand and held his gaze.

“N-nice to meet you,” Pember said, the words barely above a whisper.

They locked eyes for the briefest of moments before Blake pulled away and ran a hand down the length of his tie.

His nose wrinkled, and he looked momentarily disgusted before setting his face back into neutrality.

Pember discreetly cupped a hand to his mouth, checking that he’d cleaned his teeth that morning. He had, thank Christ.

Wallace ushered the detectives straight into his office, the door clicking shut behind them.

“Miserable as ever, I see,” Duncan sighed, dropping his mug into the sink and muttering something about processing samples from a silk glove containing horse semen. He pulled out a tiny green notepad from his lab coat and exited the kitchen.

“Grumpy fucker, isn’t he?” Maya said, placing her own mug into the sink. “Better than being ogled, I guess.”

Pember swallowed, turning on the tap. “You get that too?”

“The frosty reception, or the perverted stares?”

“Both?”

“Oh yeah, definitely. Did you meet Taylor and Johnny earlier? They’re here all the sodding time. Puts me right off my chilli con carne to be honest with you. As if omegas in STEM are a new concept.”

Pember sighed. “That’s surprising. I thought the police were meant to be upstanding citizens.”

Maya barked out a sharp laugh, one that made Pember flinch. “You’re joking, right?” She pointed to a laminated sheet on the opposite wall. It had The Code of Ethics emblazoned across the top, followed by a list of words Pember recognised from the recruitment day.

“‘Professionalism,’” Maya began, stabbing the word with the tip of her red-painted fingernail.

“Bollocks, because police officers are some of the most inappropriate people I’ve ever met.

‘Honesty.’ Also a crock of shit because I know Tay keeps stealing my rice pudding from the fridge.

‘Respect…’” She tapped the paper and shook her head.

“If they had even a modicum of respect for our work, they wouldn’t keep sneaking in to use the tox machine every Saturday morning.

Honestly, it’s not difficult to just have a few drinks without getting absolutely leathered. ”

Pember couldn’t hide the smile as he worked a dish sponge around the inside of Duncan’s filthy mug. “But today’s Monday,” he said.

Maya turned her attention to the fridge. “Motherfucker,” she hissed, pulling out an empty lunchbox.

“You said they go out every Friday. Today’s Monday,” he repeated.

Maya sighed and dropped the lunchbox into the sink. Water splashed up, wetting Pember’s shirt.

“They live together,” she said, ignoring the mess. “Every day’s a party in Johnny and Tay’s world. Between the two of them they’ve shagged most of the omegas in the station.”

Pember frowned. “You don’t sound like you like it here.”

Maya threw her hands up. “Don’t get me wrong, I actually love it here. Johnny and Tay are fine in small doses. Samantha’s a nosy bitch but she knows her stuff. Wallace is amazing and so sweet, and Duncan is… well, Duncan. An idiot, but harmless.”

Pember nodded, drying his hands on a dishcloth and glancing at Duncan through the glass-panelled door. He’d resumed his position over the microscope, a pair of precision tweezers between his fingers.

“Sorry about that, by the way.” Maya’s voice was softer as she moved to stand next to him. “We didn’t fully know about your involvement with the trafficking case last year. We knew you were friends with DS White, but that was about it.”

Pember raised his hands. “I wasn’t involved, exactly. Just ended up in the path of one of their ring leaders. A-and how do you know I’m friends with Oliver?”

Maya snorted. “Because he marched into the lab—with no PPE—and lectured us about treating you properly. Even Wallace. It’s a bloody good job we were only doing a stock take that morning.”

Pember flushed. Kind bastard. “Sorry about that. He can be a bit… protective.”

Maya shrugged. “S’all good, he seems like a decent guy and his kids are adorable. How’re you doing after all that, by the way?” Her eyes dropped and she looked at him from under her black lashes. “It must be difficult working here, knowing you’ll be processing other victims’ swabs?”

It was difficult, Pember would never deny that. But it was important work and he needed the money, which was what had ultimately convinced him to give up his poorly paid apprenticeship at the multinational pharmaceutical company.

“It’s fine. I’ve been really looking forward to it.”

Maya nodded, gesturing towards the door. “You squeamish? Ever seen a dead body?”

Following her out of the kitchen, he shook his head. “Not squeamish. I’ve seen plenty of cadavers during classes. The only thing that makes me queasy is when they use the hammer and chisel to pop off the skull cap. Something about the sucking sound really sets my teeth on edge.”

Maya nodded. “Mine’s the rib crackers… Put me off roast chicken for a year after my first post-mortem. My undergrad’s in medicine, by the way. You?”

“Biochem and mathematics.”

Maya gave an approving nod. “Love to see it.”

They chatted back and forth as they pulled on their lab coats.

Despite his earlier nerves and the unwelcome revelations, Pember found himself settling into the environment with relative ease.

The day passed quickly, and before he knew it he was back at home, stretched out on the sofa with Bailey snoozing between his legs.

He could do this. He could do this.

Working with Maya was a breath of fresh air; she was passionate, efficient, and most importantly, she didn’t look at him like he was the competition.

Omegas could be funny creatures, swinging wildly from caring, nurturing figures to catty and vindictive.

They could also be expressive and overflowing with creativity.

His own mum was a professional ballet dancer in her youth, before she settled down with his beta father.

Pember used to love looking at old photographs of her on the stage, dressed to the nines in tulle and brightly coloured silks.

He and his sister adored the times when she dressed them both up and let them parade around the living room like ballerinas of old.

He’d worn his hair long then. Almost down to his waist.

But then his father had passed away, and things began to change. The woman she’d been became a ghost behind her own eyes, a dark shadow slowly eclipsing everything good. That’d been when the verbal abuse started. The name calling, the careless but hurtful degradation.

She’d cut his hair—taken hold of his braid and hacked at it with scissors over breakfast.

At eleven years old, he’d had no idea why his mum was calling him a whore, a slut, a slag.

He hadn’t even had his first estrus cycle, let alone shown any interest in sex.

His sister had gotten the worst of it. She was fifteen, and just on the cusp of sexual maturity.

She’d tried to shield him from it, but he still heard them screaming at one another late into the night.

He used to press his ear to the floorboards, listening—and dreading—the moment one of them went too far.

The snap of fingers in front of his face jolted him out of his thoughts. “Earth to Pem,” Maya said, holding the fluorescent torch over the clothing sample. “You ready to start?”

He blinked, wholly unaware he’d zoned out.

A few days had passed without so much as a word from his mother, and it was beginning to set his nerves on edge.

He’d barely seen Blake either, only heard his car when it pulled up late at night and left again early the following morning.

The old woman and the bird were loud every evening, but Pember found he didn’t mind all that much because it helped fill the silence in his own home.

“S-sorry,” he said, sliding the yellow-tinted protectors over his eyes.

Maya flicked off the lights, bathing the room in darkness before the purple black light cast a blinding glare over the table. When Pember’s eyes adjusted, he saw what appeared to be paint splatters across a white T-shirt as it lay stretched between a cluster of holding pegs.

“Jesus,” Maya said, tone turning grave. “Someone had a hell of a party.”

Pember swallowed. “Semen, right? Because of the blue colour?”

He felt more than saw Maya nod in the darkness. “The victim was gang raped in a car. All of them were alphas. It was cold, so the heaters were on, and it looks like the seminal fluid dried quickly.”

Pember clenched his jaw as he looked at the shirt. “Which means we’ll be more likely to find intact sperm heads, right?”

Maya hummed. “Correct, so hopefully we’ll get at least one positive hit. Grab the camera?”

Pember lifted the forensic camera by the strap. It was much heavier than he’d expected and he had to hold it up with both hands.

“When did this happen?” he said, staring at the stained T-shirt through the viewfinder.

“Three weeks ago. The main swabs were sent to London to be fast-tracked. We’re picking up everything else slow time.”

The garment was small, but had a straight waistline designed for a male body. No branding, basic cut, and it had obviously been worn a lot if the slight staining under the armpits was anything to go by. Unremarkable, save for the multiple flashes of blue spattering the fabric under the black light.

The gravity of the situation hit him like a tonne of bricks. This was happening. These things were actually happening to other people. Normal people, who wore normal clothes. And it dawned on him that he could have ended up as just another statistic the previous year.