Close Call

As he got there, he met up with their forensics expert, Evan Dext. She was a beautiful woman; tall, thin, with brownish strands intertwining with her beautiful natural blond hair. She was wearing a band t-shirt, as usual – another one of those bands he had never heard of – and a pair of black Dr. Martens with white paint spatters on them – natural, or had she added them? He continued to look at her: fishnet mittens, some bracelets, and tattoos on her arms, a dog tag around her neck – his tag – and chains dangling on her left side over her torn black jeans. Evan fascinated him, but he did not know why: was it her talent? Her beauty? He shook his head, trying to get these thoughts out of his head.

“Did you get Doc’s clue? Have you analyzed it?”

He had said that in an overly cold voice, and immediately regretted it; he didn’t want to seem aggressive.

“I mean, have you had time to?”

“I know you’re worried about Rick, Dave” – quickly putting her phone away, she smiled warmly at him, and put her hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing it – “I was actually waiting for you to start the analysis. I knew you’d show up anyways, you always do.”

He returned her smile, but quickly looked away. She didn’t push the matter, and they started working. The hair seemed brown, but it was hard to tell with all the blood still encrusted in it. They tried looking at it through the microscope, but could not find anything useful. David punched the white wall. His only clue, his only chance of exculpating his friend, was useless. He stormed out, leaving Evan on her own, looking at her feet; she felt guilty for this failure.

David was lost. He was panicked. He didn’t know what to do – he couldn’t ask Richard for help. He had just gotten his friend back, and he would lose him again? No. David would not let that happen. He would do whatever it took to prove his innocence. His breathing steadied. He walked down the street and starting thinking. Where could he start? There had to be something! “One dollar please”, and he left with his can of Coke. He had to think harder. Think! He opened the can and drank a sip. He gazed around him, hoping nature would somehow inspire him.

The scene was beautiful. The dark sky had turned a soft pink color, the air was fresh, the flowers blossomed under the rising spring sun and a soft breeze caressed his face under the cool shadow of the budding trees. Most shops were closed, though some of them were starting to open. He walked passed them, looking through the shop-windows: porcelain, shining like diamonds under the sun’s reflection; flowers, mostly roses, dancing as the wind blew; the bakery, with its warm fresh loafs of bread. The smells, sounds and sights of the waking neighborhood seem to intertwine as a slight gust of wind blew, like falling leaves in the fall. It relaxed him greatly.