Page 76 of Sinful Palace

“Yes.”

She smiled. “I’m Cleo. Wanna follow me?”

“Sure.”

She took me into a large room with fluorescent lights and clean white benches. Scientific equipment and small bottles were lined up neatly around the space. “Welcome to my lab,” she said with a mock bow. “What can I do for you?”

I held out the bottle. “You can get DNA from saliva on a straw, right?”

“Uh-huh.” She folded her arms. “Why?”

“I think the man I got this from might be my father, but I can’t be sure. I want to prove it.”

She nodded slowly. “All right. Should be easy enough. I’ll just need to get a sample from you so I can compare it with the other one.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

She snapped on some latex gloves and opened a nearby drawer to grab a Q-tip and a sample tube. Then she gestured for me to open wide. “This cheek swab should be enough,” she said, rubbing the Q-tip all over the inside of my mouth. “But if I need anything else, I’ll let you know.”

“That’s fine,” I said when she withdrew her hand. “I was also wondering—say this person isn’t actually my father. Are you able to run the sample through all those DNA databases out there? Like CODIS? On the down-low, that is. Totally off-network.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I could probably find a way. Why?”

“If it turns out the sample isn’t from my father, but the person has had their DNA uploaded to one of those databases, it could help me figure out who he is. Otherwise I’m fresh out of luck.”

Cleo’s sparse blonde brows knitted in a frown. “Hold on… are you telling me you have no idea who this sample actually came from?”

“Yeah.”

“So it could be literally anyone.”

“Yes. He was wearing a mask and disguising his voice when I met with him. I think it was my father, but like I said, I can’t be sure. That’s why I want to figure out exactly who it is.”

Her forehead creased. “Gotta say, this is weird as fuck.”

“But you can do it, right?”

“Yes.” She fastened the lid on the sample tube. “Leave this with me, and I should have results for you in about twelve weeks.”

My jaw dropped. “Twelve weeks?”

“Uh-huh. Lab work takes time.”

“I know, but I need it sooner than that.”

Cleo arched a brow. “Do you know what I do here all day?”

“Science.”

She snorted. “No shit. I meant specifically.”

I shrugged. “Not really.”

“I test crime kits. Say a person breaks in somewhere or assaults someone else, and they leave their hair or saliva on the scene… I’m the one who tests that stuff and gives the results to the police in the hopes they can nail the bastard.”

“Right.”

“Anyway, we have a crazy backlog. Some of the kits here are five years old and still haven’t been tested.” She folded her arms and leaned back against the bench before she went on. “So… do you think this weird little search for your daddy—or whatever the hell it is—is more important than getting these kits done for all the victims out there who are still waiting for justice?”

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