The Kill by Allison Brennan Page B

off Michelle Davidson, but it’s apparently small.” He shook his head. “I’m not well-versed in DNA testing, I’ve left it to Cohn. He’s good. But it’ll still take a few weeks to get anything. Cohn’s trying to push the state crime lab into rushing the test, but they have to put court-ordered DNA testing first.” He ran a hand over the dark stubble on his face, then rubbed his neck.
    “I—” How could she get that sample without Zack thinking she was taking over the case? She had to proceed carefully. “You know, I might be able to rush the sample through the FBI lab.”
    He gave her a blank stare, only the tic in his neck telling her he was suspicious of her motives. “And?” he prompted.
    “We have state-of-the-art equipment there, and I sort of know the assistant director of CODIS. He’ll rush it for me.”
    “Oh?”
    She felt like she was on the hot seat. “He’s my ex-husband.”
    “Your ex-husband works in the lab?” He grinned. “Hell, I wouldn’t be able to get my ex-wife to do me any favors.”
    His humor relaxed Olivia a bit. “Well, he’ll do it for me. We parted friends.”
    “It’s not easy keeping a marriage going in our line of work,” Zack commented, almost to himself.
    Guilt again tickled Olivia. It wasn’t her line of work, but she knew enough agents and cops to know relationships were difficult for them. Ironically, work was the one thing that had brought her and Greg together, and kept them friends.
    “All right,” he said, standing abruptly. “If we can get answers faster by using your ex, I’m all for it. Let’s go down to the lab and you and Cohn can talk about all that technical stuff. You probably picked up a lot of knowledge just being married to one of those lab guys.”
    He doesn’t know the half of it, Olivia thought.
     

CHAPTER 6
     
    Brian stomped down the three flights of stairs to the alley where his beat-up truck was parked. He was stuck until his attorney could get him some money from the damn government. You’d think they could have handed him a check on his way out the door—he was
innocent
, he’d told them he was innocent, and no one had believed him because that stupid fucking cop lied about the evidence. Planted evidence. Isn’t that what happened to O.J.? Cops planted evidence.
    Of course Brian didn’t believe for one minute that O.J. didn’t do his wife, but hey, the cops fucked it up just like they screwed up everything and so they probably planted evidence on O.J. to make themselves look good, just like they’d planted evidence in his truck.
    He jerked open the tinny door of the mini-pickup, wishing he had his big Dodge, but it had been seized
as evidence
. Shit, that wasn’t fair. It was probably a classic now. Worth some money.
    Three tries as he pumped the clutch and gas to get the rust bucket to turn over. He’d wanted to see his mom and show her that he was fine, just fine, better than ever. He wanted to move home, eat real food, sleep in a real bed, and never again see another cockroach.
    He’d called his mom from the prison last week, the night before he was released.
    “Ma, it’s me. Brian.”
    She didn’t say anything for nearly a minute, and Brian thought for sure he’d been disconnected, some lame-ass prank of the prison guards.
    “Brian,” she finally said, her voice old and flat. Unhappy.
    Anger and a funny sort of pain clogged his throat. He swallowed with difficulty, then said, “Ma, I’m getting out. I didn’t do it.”
    Another long pause. “I don’t understand. Where are you?”
    “I’m still in Folsom, but they’re letting me come home tomorrow. They have new evidence, and it says I didn’t kill anyone.”
    “Home? You’re coming home?”
    She sounded scared. Hadn’t she heard what he’d said? That he was innocent? That the stupid fucking cops had made a mistake?
    “Yeah. I’m
inn-o-cent
,” he stressed. “I told you that before.”
    It hurt that his mother hadn’t visited him. He