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“Well ...” Grey said, moving back around to take a seat in one of the old-fashioned wooden swivel chairs with spindled backs. His lab coat had his name stitched in blue, he wore a matching blue button-up shirt underneath, and the top of his yellow tie showed where the top two buttons were open. He sat back and steepled his hands. “This is an interesting turn of events,” he said with a glimmer of a smile.
Deckard tilted his head. “You could say that.” He still struggledwith wrapping his head around the change of events a year could bring.
“Please,” Greg said, indicating the two wooden chairs opposite him. “Have a seat.”
Deckard pulled out a chair for Harper, then sank down in the one beside her and leaned forward. “Harper tells me you were the only person besides her that remained kind to And—Miranda.”
“It never quite sat right with me,” he said. “What went down.”
“So you believe Miranda is innocent of the claims against her?”
“Innocence and guilt...” Greg said. “It’s hard to make a definitive claim of innocence when the evidence indicates you.”
“But what if she’s right and someone set her up?” Harper said, straightening.
“I suppose the question in that case would be, Who set her up and why?”
“That’s exactly what we’re trying to find out,” Harper said. “The only way Deckard can help is if he can see the lab and the evidence locker.”
“Oh?” Greg’s inquisitive gaze fixed on Deckard. “Is that true?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, shifting in the hardwood chair, trying not to adjust the Dockers pants Harper said he should wear, not to tug at the tie or loosen the button-down shirt.
She said he’d get further dressed this way, but it felt foreign and awkward. He was a jeans, boots, T-shirt, and Stetson kind of guy.
“And why is that?” Greg asked, pinning his gaze on Deckard.
“Because it happened here,” he said with a respectful tone. “If what Miranda believes is true, the sample was corrupted in the lab after she correctly stored it, and the missing shirt was taken from the evidence locker after she brought in the box to be catalogued.”
Greg silenced an incoming call and kept his full attention on them. “And what do you think you’ll discover? Particularly, after all this time?”
“I would like Harper to show me the process the DNA went through. Where the sample was tested. The data or record of it.The proper way to store DNA. What the evidence locker looks like. Who was on shift the day the shirt disappeared...”
“My,” Greg said, “it appears there’s a lot to be learned.”
“We need your permission to get Deckard in the lab and evidence locker,” Harper said.
“Yes, you do.” Greg swiveled in his chair, and they waited. After a moment, he sighed. “Very well. You have my permission, as long as you don’t interfere with the work anyone is doing. And other than the data Miranda had on Mitch Abrams, no forensic information is to be shared from any other cases being processed both now and from before.”
“Yes, sir,” Harper said.
“So you both agree. You’ll limit your exposure to these aforementioned items?”
“Yes, sir,” Deckard said, and Harper nodded.
“All right.” Greg gave a single nod of permission.
“Thank you, sir,” Harper said.
“Yes, thank you,” Deckard said.
“One more thing,” Greg said.
“Sure,” Deckard said.
“I want to know what you find,” he said. “As the forensics director, I want to know what’s happening in my lab.”
“Do you mind if I ask you about that?” Deckard said.
