James Patterson - The Quickie

I blinked as I picked up the menu and saw the picture of a turtle and a frog. Wow. Sunday brunch in Chinatown. I guess Bonnie had never had morning sickness herself.

"I can't believe I missed your retirement party and your shower," Bonnie said as we sat. "Someone on third shift called in sick, and wouldn't you know it? I got the call."

"Save the regrets, Bonnie," I said, smiling. "It's me here. This is great. Perfect." As long as I can keep the Chinese food down.

"So," Bonnie said midway through the dim sum. "All of a sudden, it's so many changes for you. I would have thought they'd have to pry you off The Job with a hammer and a crowbar. I'm so happy for you and Paul, of course, but… I don't know. I've seen how you work cases, Lauren. The glow in your eyes. How fearless you can be. I'm not the only woman cop you've inspired, either, by the way. I guess it's hard for me to see you turn it all down and walk away. Somehow, I can't see you as a soccer mom."

Gee, Bonnie. Thanks for the vote of confidence, I thought. Wasn't this supposed to be a celebration? Let the good times flow?

Suddenly, Bonnie laid down her chopsticks.

"Before I forget," she said. "I have a gift."

Bonnie removed a large manila envelope from her bag and handed it to me. I opened the flap.

"Just what I've always wanted," I said, looking at the pages and then staring at my friend quizzically. "A computer printout."

What was going on now?

"I received that on Friday from the FBI lab," Bonnie said. She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and looked into my eyes with kind concern. "It's the results from the DNA sample I found on the tarp Scott Thayer was found wrapped in."

The world whited out for a second as a sudden heat flash sizzled through me.

Our goddamned Neat Sheet! I actually remembered the picnic where Paul had provided his DNA sample!

It was our first anniversary. Paul had brought me and two bottles of champagne up to the exquisitely beautiful Rockwood Hall Park in North Tarrytown. Had it ever gotten better for us? I doubted it. Late summer. Champagne and crickets, and just the two of us. It was the first time we'd actually tried to get pregnant.

I glanced at the pages, then back at my friend.

"What are you talking about?" I asked Bonnie. "I thought that you said all you could find was Scott's blood."

"After I scraped it off, I noticed that there was another, older stain. It turns out it was dried semen. Just enough to get a DNA signature."

I squinted at the pages. What would it take for Scott's case to stay closed? I wondered. Holy water? Pounding a stake through its heart? Shooting it with a silver bullet?

And what the hell was I supposed to say now? Bonnie seemed to be waiting for something from me.

"Why didn't you tell me about this before?" I finally got up the courage to ask.

"I tried to," Bonnie said. "But it was the morning of the Ordonez shooting, and I couldn't reach you. When I called your lieutenant the next day, he told me to shit-can it. They'd found Scott's gun on Victor Ordonez, and the case was a slam-dunk."

"So what's the problem?" I said.

Bonnie let out a sigh.

"What can I tell you, kid? The DNA isn't from Ordonez. And yeah, I'm sure."

I ran through the implications at the speed of light. They had Paul's DNA! That would be devastating for him, for both of us. And baby makes three.

"Whose is it?" I said carefully.

"We don't know," Bonnie answered.

Thank God for small mercies, I thought.

But unfortunately Bonnie wasn't done.

"But we did get a cold hit from another crime scene," she said. "How about that?"

What?! How about I shoot myself here in the Dragon Flower?

A vague and sickening dread hit the center of my chest like a punch.

"Run that by me again," I said to Bonnie.

"The Feds' CODIS database collects DNA samples from crime scenes across the country in order to ID perpetrators. It turns out, the same DNA from the semen on the blanket in your case was found at another crime scene – an armed robbery in Washington, DC. Happened nearly five years ago. The case was never closed."

The dread that had been operating in my stomach suddenly shifted its strategy for attack and caught me in a hammerlock around the throat. I was having trouble thinking, even sitting in an upright position.

No. It couldn't be. What Bonnie was saying meant that…

Paul had been involved in another crime? An armed robbery?

THE WAITER CAME and Bonnie paid. Then she reached across the table and patted my shaking hands.

"I didn't mean to drop all of this on you at once, Lauren," Bonnie said. "I was as shocked as you are."

Want to bet? I thought, dropping my eyes to the table.

"An armed robbery in DC?" I whispered through the cotton that had suddenly materialized in my mouth. "You're sure about it, Bonnie?"

"The brief abstract they sent with the positive match said the DNA came from a blood sample found at an armed robbery in a DC hotel. But the case wasn't solved, and it's still open. The match means that we have anonymous secretions at two different crime scenes. Semen on the blanket used to cover Thayer. And blood in some DC hotel room."

What did that mean? Obviously, they still didn't know it was Paul's. As if that mattered, I thought, dropping my pulverized head into my hands. As if anything did at this point.

Bonnie kept talking but I barely heard what she was saying. All I could do was blink and nod. The impossible had just happened. For the first time in a while, I had actually managed to stop caring about Scott's case. I had a new distraction.

Almost five years ago Paul had committed some kind of armed robbery in a hotel room? My brain labored over that thought, then promptly went on strike.

Because that was impossible.

But DNA doesn't lie.

When I looked up, I found Bonnie staring at me, waiting for some kind of comment.

"So what does this mean?" I said, as if I didn't know the answer. "Victor Ordonez didn't kill Scott Thayer?"

Bonnie looked out the window onto crowded Mott Street. There was pain in her eyes.

"I don't know. How could I, Lauren? Maybe he just borrowed the blanket off a friend, but it definitely throws some doubt out there, doesn't it?" she said. "The kind of doubt a defense lawyer would have a field day with. Not to mention the press jackals."

I looked at the neon Chinese characters in the restaurant window. A black eel in the aquarium beside our booth batted his head against the glass as if trying to get my attention and say something. Hey, Lauren. Why don't you just run screaming out of the restaurant? Don't stop till you get to Bellevue .

Bonnie straightened the papers against the tabletop, pushed them back into the envelope, and stuffed the whole thing down into my bag.

"But I decided it's the kind of doubt this city, this department, Scott's wife, and most especially you, Lauren, don't need thrown out there."

She gestured toward my handbag.

"That's why I'm giving it to you, honey. This case was screwed for everyone involved from the word go. This is my retirement present to you. The DC detective's name and contact info are somewhere in those sheets, if you ever want to pursue it on your own. Or you can chuck it off the Brooklyn Bridge. Your choice."

Bonnie planted a big kiss on my forehead as she stood up at our table.

"One thing I've learned as a cop is that you do what you can. It's not our fault that sometimes that's not enough. Lauren, you're my friend, and I love you, and it's up to you. See you around."

IT WAS A FEW HOURS LATER, and dark, when I found myself standing in Battery Park at the southern tip of Manhattan.