Huddled in his lab coat, Chief Tech Dickie Berenski — Dickhead to those who knew and loathed him — tested a strand of pubic hair. He was a meticulous man, as well as a monster pain in the ass. Though notoriously slow in testing, his batting average in court was high enough to make him the MVP of the police and security lab. “Can’t you see I’m buried here? Jesus.” With his fussy spider fingers he adjusted the focus on his micro-goggles. “Got us ten homicides, six rapes, a load of suspicious and unattended deaths, and too many B and Es to think about. I’m not a fucking robot.” “Closest thing to,” Eve muttered. She didn’t like coming to the lab with its antiseptic air and white walls. It was too much like a hospital, or worse, Testing. Any cop who used maximum force resulting in termination was required to undergo Testing. Her experiences with that particular intrusive routine hadn’t been pleasant. “Look, Dickie, you’ve had plenty of time to analyze the substance.”
