Eridanus Flooding

15: Sisterhood of The Traveling Guns

Grabbing a micropipette, she siphoned the fluid into a capillary for gel electrophoresis. She snapped the lid shut and turned back to face the curious officer.

"But I have a question. . ."

At that, the boy gulped visibly and V.C. swore she saw beads of sweat lining his forehead.

"How did you know what it was called? Page, who has been with me for a year, still calls it a spinny thingy."

Thomas blushed his characteristic pink and stared at the ground. "I-uh- I. . .studied forensic pathology."

When V.C. asked him where, he responded 'John Hopkins University'.

For the first time since she had taken this case, V.C. was noticeably shocked. She never imagined that this shy policeman had attended one of the most prestigious universities in the country. And that he had majored in forensics above all!

"Wow. I had no idea. Why did you become an officer then? Did you finish school? No? Why did you stop?" She bombarded him with question after question, not even giving him time to answer, but she quickly rectified her statements.

"You know what, its none of my business. Sorry for asking, I've never been good at knowing when to shut up." She gave him a guilty smile and turned back to the table behind her.

Thomas cleared his throat and spoke, "No, no, it's fine, really. I-I. . .My mother--she--she died and my little brother. . . Well. . . I just needed to take care of him so I came back to Rinshawn. Sheriff Stan gave me a job." He trailed off into awkward silence.

The 'Abort mission' mantra streamed across V.C.'s brain as soon as she heard that. Luckily she was still facing away from him so she could debate on how to handle the situation.

When it came to a case, she always knew what to say or how to act; it came as natural as breathing to her.

But now, during interpersonal interactions, her brain shut off.

For someone so smart, her mind ironically was the one thing that got her into trouble. And that trouble usually involved her making jokes at inappropriate times. She couldn't help it; it was sort of a defense mechanism. One that had gotten her kicked out of far too many wakes.

Whatever you do, V.C. do NOT make a 'kick the bucket' joke. Just nod with pity. Or something.

Thankfully, the PCR machine dinged before she could humiliate herself and the awkward tension dissipated.

The structure for the attacker's DNA had finally been determined. Now all she had to do was upload the sample structure to the FBI database and see if it had a match. V.C. was just about to do just that when she saw Thomas eagerly watching her next movements.

Deciding that there wasn't a risk of error, she motioned him closer. "Hey, Thomas! Can you run this through CODIS for me? I have to see what Page and Rhodes found on the computer and it would really help me out."

She watched as his eyes lit up and his lips tugged up in an adorable smile. He nodded his head vigorously, taking a seat in front of the screen and eyeing it intently.

V.C.'s own lips curved into a smile as she watched his enthusiasm. Grabbing her clipboard from the adjoining table, she went to find Jack and the rest of her crew.

Outside, the sky was darkening, covering the room in shadows. V.C. found Jack thumbing through a stack of papers underneath lamplight. A bent elbow gave rise to one muscular palm which cradled his own head.

He looked like the human equivalent of The Thinker by Auguste Rodin. . .

Except for the fact he wasn't buck naked and sitting on a pedestal.