The sun slaps me in the face when we step outside. I squint against it, raising a hand to shield my eyes. I have to stop myself from dropping to my knees and kissing the cracked asphalt of the parking lot.
Barnes glances at me. “One more thing, Mr. Jordan. There is a no-contact order. That means you do not call, text, DM, or ‘accidentally’ bump into Miss Parker. That includes messages through friends. If she reaches out to you, you do not respond. If you violate that, you can go straight back into custody.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good. I’ll be in contact.” Barnes heads to a nearby gray Mercedes and unlocks it with a chirp.
I almost let him leave.
But it isn’t right.
I did nothing fucking wrong. This is a fucking setup.
“Wait.” I catch the driver’s side door before he can close it. “This is bullshit. What if Melissa made this all up? Someone could be blackmailing her to set me up. Are the cops doing an actual investigation to figure this shit out?”
He pauses, hand on the handle. “I only got the discovery an hour ago. But yes, Mr. Jordan, there is anactualinvestigation.” He doesn’t have to sound so fucking condescending about it. Not like I passed the bar or anything.
“And? What have they found?” I drag a hand through my greasy hair, trying not to rave at my attorney in the Sheriff’s office parking lot.
“They found drugs in Melissa’s system. If her memory doesn’t come back, it’ll be much harder for the prosecutor to prove this beyond a reasonable doubt.”
“Drugs, like coke?”
Barnes sighs. “A lot more than coke, Mr. Jordan. Like I said, I’m still working my way through the discovery.”
“And the DNA and scratches and stuff? What happened with that?”
“DNA isn’t a Hail Mary, Mr. Jordan. Bear in mind, results take weeks, if not months, and even so, the results could prove inconclusive.”
“You serious?” My hand curls into a fist on the roof of the Mercedes. The one thing I was hoping would sort this shit out, Barnes is telling me might not even matter?
“The lab received a mixed sample with early indications of both female and male DNA. Whether the female DNA matches with your girlfriend, or the complainant—” Barnes shrugs “—or both, will only be determined in a few weeks when…”
His mouth keeps moving, but I can’t hear anything over the whine in my ears.
Femaleandmale DNA.
MaleDNA.
“Like…from a handshake?” I hear myself ask from somewhere far, far away.
“Excuse me?” Barnes is frowning up at me from the driver’s seat.
“The, uh…DNA. How…I mean, can I get it from a handshake or something?”
Barnes gives me a slow blink. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear. These are the samples they took from under your nails.”
That’s…impossible.
What the fuck happened Friday night?
I vaguely remember the bar. Kruger. Shot after shot of Jäger, chased with tequila because I’m a fucking masochist. The music was too loud, the lights too bright, and Kruger’s voice fading in and out like a bad radio signal.
And then…nothing.
Until I woke up on his couch Saturday morning with a splitting headache.
Memory of Kruger’s DM slams into my mind like a wrecking ball.
