Beverly Connor - Dead Past

“It’s a big problem any way you look at it,” said Archie. “We’re just over an hour from Atlanta. What makes anybody think that Rosewood’s immune to drugs? Let me tell you, we’re just like every other place in the country. I wish we weren’t.”

Diane didn’t like that thought. But he was probably right. Right now, however, her problem was identifying bodies, not finding evildoers. She happily left that to Garnett and others. She took off her lab coat and checked out for the evening, leaving orders for all the bones to be delivered to the crime lab.

It had stopped sleeting several hours earlier and was now hard cold. Diane hurried her pace toward the crime scene to check on David, Jin, and Neva. They must be exhausted, sifting though that huge mess of charred detritus.

They were packing up the crime scene van, about ready to leave the site to the night watchmen.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“It’s going as well as can be expected,” said Neva. Her face was rosy from the cold. She took a Kleenex out of her pocket and blew her nose. “McNair’s men took most of the evidence away in a truck. Not much we can do. David’s doing a slow burn-pardon the pun.”

David’s features were frozen in a frown. “We were outnumbered and Neva and I were at the coffee tent when they did it. Jin didn’t know about the issue, or he would have called you. They didn’t get the smaller stuff; it was locked in our van.”

Diane could relate to the slow burn David must be doing. Her cheeks were aflame. “I’ll talk to McNair and Garnett,” said Diane. “And whoever else…”

She was interrupted by three vehicles pulling up behind their crime scene van. Doors opened and people started piling out. Diane couldn’t see them clearly for the glare of the headlights in her eyes, but their aggressive movement toward her gave her the distinct feeling she was about to be arrested.

Diane blinked her eyes when the headlights finally switched off. What in the world, she thought. She felt David, Neva, and Jin walking up beside her. A united front-against what?

“Diane.” One of the individuals was Chief Garnett.

She felt a silly sense of relief. “Chief,” she said as he came into the circle of light cast by the streetlamps.

She could see by the set of his jaw that whatever it was, it wasn’t good. That feeling was reinforced by the presence of the police commissioner and McNair with him, along with two men she didn’t know who seemed to be with McNair.

The police commissioner was a small man who looked as if he would be more at home doing anything but police work. He wore rimless glasses and earmuffs. Part of a gray lapel matching his gray pants peeked out from the front of his black fur-trimmed topcoat. He was shivering. Diane didn’t wonder that he was cold; he wore no hat and he had only a thin layer of hair.

McNair wore his usual smirk, but it had more of a look of triumph to it now.

“We’ve reached a compromise,” said the commissioner.

“I’m taking the evidence you’ve collected,” McNair said.

The commissioner cast him a scowl, but McNair didn’t notice because he was looking at Diane. It was obviously a done deal. Diane was afraid that what they were going to do was compromise the evidence.

If McNair was expecting a howl of protest, he was disappointed. Diane said nothing. She decided to treat them pretty much the way she had treated the Stantons at the hospital-let them confess.

“What he means,” said Garnett, “is that the arson investigation unit will handle all nonhuman evidence and your unit will handle all the bones and nontissue human remains. The medical examiners will handle any tissue samples.”

“That sounds logical,” said the commissioner. He made it sound as though he was asking Diane a question.

She felt like saying it might be logical if anyone but McNair were handling the evidence.

“I’ll take the evidence now,” said McNair.

“If I’m not mistaken, you have already taken most of it,” said Diane.

“Now, I’m taking the rest of it.” McNair nodded to the two strangers and they started for the van.

David stepped in front of the door, blocking their access.

“Commissioner,” said Diane, “perhaps Mr. McNair needs to be reminded that we are all required by law to follow strict protocol for the transfer of custody of evidence. Each item must be individually logged out of our inventory and signed for before it leaves the custody of the crime scene forensics unit.”

“She’s stalling and evading, Commissioner,” McNair snapped. “Giving us a lecture.”

“Are you refusing to cooperate, Diane?” asked the commissioner. “If so…”

“No, of course I’m not. I’m simply pointing out that if Mr. McNair’s men enter that van and take the evidence without following the required protocol, they will render the items unusable as evidence in any legal proceeding or criminal prosecution.”

“I see what you’re saying,” replied the commissioner, then reconsidered. “Exactly what is it you’re saying?”

“Simply that protocol requires that my crew retrieve each bag containing nonhuman materials from its storage box, enter a record of its transfer into the evidence log, and hand it over to Mr. McNair’s custody as it is signed for by Mr. McNair or a legally authorized member of his staff,” said Diane. “What happens to it after that point is Mr. McNair’s responsibility.”

“That sounds proper,” the commissioner said.

McNair’s men looked at him and he nodded for them to stand down. This is ridiculous, thought Diane. They are acting like thugs.

“I’ll have to look inside all the other bags to make sure I get everything I need for my investigation,” said McNair.

“Very well,” said Diane. “The commissioner and Chief Garnett are here to sign as witnesses that the seals were broken on site when the evidence is challenged in court.” Diane took a pen from her pocket and handed it to the commissioner.

“Sign?” he said. “Challenged in court, you say?”

“Yes, we all remember the O.J. trial and what happens when evidence is not handled according to strict protocol. We will need official witnesses as to who did what and when, and who authorized it, especially if the seals are to be broken for no legitimate forensic purpose in field conditions where evidence can be lost or contaminated.”

Damn it, thought Diane, if the commissioner is going to cave in, he is going to accept responsibility for the consequences. Her statement had the desired effect. The commissioner didn’t want his name on anything, and there was no graceful way to say he wasn’t going to authorize the diversion from proper protocol.

“I think we can trust that Diane’s crew know the difference between bone and other material,” he told McNair. “It’s what they do.”

McNair scowled. It was a small thing, but from the look on his face, McNair wanted to win even the small battles.

Diane told Neva and David to bring out the bags of evidence containing nonhuman materials.

“I want to look at the labels on all the bags you don’t hand over,” McNair said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Garnett. “The way you’re acting, you’d think we aren’t all on the same side. What possible reason could they have for withholding evidence? We have an agreement. My people will abide by it.”

“I agree,” said the commissioner.

David shot Diane a look that said, “Don’t you think this is damn peculiar?”

Yes, she thought, very peculiar.

It took David and Neva more than half an hour to retrieve and log out all the bags they had so carefully packed in the van. Diane hated to see the carefully collected and recorded evidence go to McNair’s custody. On the other hand, all he wanted was the glory, and he had many good people working for him. The evidence should be safe in their hands. He wouldn’t be getting his hands dirty analyzing any of it. He didn’t really know how.