Two hours of that is worse than Iowa football."
"I promise, no blind dates. Just tell me about your life as an agent."
"That's it?"
"Start with what happened to your face. Tonight. Dinner."
I agreed to meet back here later, then walked down the hall to the Hairs and Fibers department, looking for my former colleague Mike Rodriguez. I found him in one of the glass-fronted exam room wearing his safety glasses and white lab coat. In one hand, he held a metal spatula, scraping down a pair of jeans that hung from a metal bar over white butcher paper. The fibers freckled the paper.
I opened the door. “Hey, Mike.”
"Raleigh." Mike pushed up the safety glasses. "Are you okay?"
"Fine. Why?"
"That looks like a very serious sunburn."
"Oh, yeah, that. I’m okay."
"If you don’t use sunblock, you're going to wind up with ichthyderm."
Oh, the vocabulary of forensics.
"Ichthyderm,” I said. “That would be . . ."
"Translated literally from the Greek, ichthy means fish, and derm means skin. Sunbather’s skin. Smoker’s skin. Skin like you have scales."
Several minutes -- and several Greek translations -- later Mike moved on to scolding me for using First-Aid tape instead of adhesive lifts. I apologized profusely and tried to convey the urgency of this evidence, but he refused to promise anything by Monday. He did however tell me a long version of what was going on in his life, and it was almost as interesting as the two-hour lecture on Optimus Prime.
When I finally got back to the mineralogy lab, my head was pounding with hunger. I was debating moving my dinner date with Eric to lunch. But a hollow metallic clatter, like cheap spoons tossed in a diner’s cutlery bin, stopped me at the door.
Eric was strapping metal braces over his thin legs. At first he didn’t see me. But when he glanced up, his freckled face reflected all the grief that was squeezing my own heart.
"I hate to tell you this," he said, "but we can’t go dancing tonight."
"Eric—when?"
"I got them in April. Next up is my wheelchair. I'll probably be out of the lab by September."
"Why?"
"Oh, come on, Raleigh. Can you see me shuffling into a courtroom like this? The jury will take one look at me and slap 'handicapped' on the evidence too. I’m every defense attorney's dream for a forensics witness."
He bent down, continuing to buckle the braces. I wanted it to stop. I wanted him to stand up and walk. But that was beyond me, beyond my power. And the next words out of my mouth took every ounce of courage.
"Can I pray for you?"
“Go right ahead.” He continued to snap the braces. "At this point I'm in no position to reject prayers. Maybe those holy rollers your mother hangs out can pray for me, too."
"I mean, now."
He looked up. "Here. In the lab?"
I nodded.
"Raleigh." His face flushed. "I really do appreciate your faith. Really. I do. It's gotten you through some tough times, I know that. But I'm a scientist. You know? Big bang. The fossil record. Evolution of the Species -- that's my bible."
"I know."
He held my gaze a long moment. Then he glanced past me, into the examination area beyond the door. Where his esteemed fellow scientists calculated precise figures and devised cause and pinpointed effect. Everything based on fact. And only fact.
When his gray eyes returned to me, they were the color of ash.
He gave a short nod. I turned to close the door.
"Raleigh?"
I looked over my shoulder. "Yes?"
"Lock it," he said.
Chapter 15
By the time I got back to Richmond that night a necklace of blue sapphire clouds had sutured themselves to an amethyst sky. And the downtown streets were tipping the fulcrum from light to dark. The pawnbrokers and ambulance-chasing lawyers had closed up shop for the day, setting alarms before the hookers and drug dealers stepped from the shadows with palpable impatience.
But Milky Lewis wasn’t afraid of the dark. During my early dinner with Eric he called my cellphone, asking me to meet him in the
"I promise, no blind dates. Just tell me about your life as an agent."
"That's it?"
"Start with what happened to your face. Tonight. Dinner."
I agreed to meet back here later, then walked down the hall to the Hairs and Fibers department, looking for my former colleague Mike Rodriguez. I found him in one of the glass-fronted exam room wearing his safety glasses and white lab coat. In one hand, he held a metal spatula, scraping down a pair of jeans that hung from a metal bar over white butcher paper. The fibers freckled the paper.
I opened the door. “Hey, Mike.”
"Raleigh." Mike pushed up the safety glasses. "Are you okay?"
"Fine. Why?"
"That looks like a very serious sunburn."
"Oh, yeah, that. I’m okay."
"If you don’t use sunblock, you're going to wind up with ichthyderm."
Oh, the vocabulary of forensics.
"Ichthyderm,” I said. “That would be . . ."
"Translated literally from the Greek, ichthy means fish, and derm means skin. Sunbather’s skin. Smoker’s skin. Skin like you have scales."
Several minutes -- and several Greek translations -- later Mike moved on to scolding me for using First-Aid tape instead of adhesive lifts. I apologized profusely and tried to convey the urgency of this evidence, but he refused to promise anything by Monday. He did however tell me a long version of what was going on in his life, and it was almost as interesting as the two-hour lecture on Optimus Prime.
When I finally got back to the mineralogy lab, my head was pounding with hunger. I was debating moving my dinner date with Eric to lunch. But a hollow metallic clatter, like cheap spoons tossed in a diner’s cutlery bin, stopped me at the door.
Eric was strapping metal braces over his thin legs. At first he didn’t see me. But when he glanced up, his freckled face reflected all the grief that was squeezing my own heart.
"I hate to tell you this," he said, "but we can’t go dancing tonight."
"Eric—when?"
"I got them in April. Next up is my wheelchair. I'll probably be out of the lab by September."
"Why?"
"Oh, come on, Raleigh. Can you see me shuffling into a courtroom like this? The jury will take one look at me and slap 'handicapped' on the evidence too. I’m every defense attorney's dream for a forensics witness."
He bent down, continuing to buckle the braces. I wanted it to stop. I wanted him to stand up and walk. But that was beyond me, beyond my power. And the next words out of my mouth took every ounce of courage.
"Can I pray for you?"
“Go right ahead.” He continued to snap the braces. "At this point I'm in no position to reject prayers. Maybe those holy rollers your mother hangs out can pray for me, too."
"I mean, now."
He looked up. "Here. In the lab?"
I nodded.
"Raleigh." His face flushed. "I really do appreciate your faith. Really. I do. It's gotten you through some tough times, I know that. But I'm a scientist. You know? Big bang. The fossil record. Evolution of the Species -- that's my bible."
"I know."
He held my gaze a long moment. Then he glanced past me, into the examination area beyond the door. Where his esteemed fellow scientists calculated precise figures and devised cause and pinpointed effect. Everything based on fact. And only fact.
When his gray eyes returned to me, they were the color of ash.
He gave a short nod. I turned to close the door.
"Raleigh?"
I looked over my shoulder. "Yes?"
"Lock it," he said.
Chapter 15
By the time I got back to Richmond that night a necklace of blue sapphire clouds had sutured themselves to an amethyst sky. And the downtown streets were tipping the fulcrum from light to dark. The pawnbrokers and ambulance-chasing lawyers had closed up shop for the day, setting alarms before the hookers and drug dealers stepped from the shadows with palpable impatience.
But Milky Lewis wasn’t afraid of the dark. During my early dinner with Eric he called my cellphone, asking me to meet him in the
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