Page 43 of The Writer

“I was alone, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m sure some of the cameras picked me up.”

“Just strolling in the park,” Harrison mutters.

“Enough,” Saffi snaps.

There’s a knock at the door. A CSU tech comes in carrying a plastic case.

Saffi’s eyes remain fixed on Declan. “I think we all want to clear this up, right? Maybe someone did steal that knife from your place. Just because your prints are on it doesn’t mean you were at the scene. I’m willing to keep an open mind. So here’s what we’re going to do. I’m offering you a choice. You let me take a blood sample right now, with your consent, something we can compare to the blood found on Morrow’s doorbeforeyou arrived on scene. We do it here nice and quiet, find out what your blood type is, and maybe rule you out. Or…” Shebites her lip. “Or IAU holds you on suspicion, gets a warrant, and pulls your blood anyway.” She goes quiet for a second. “Declan, it’s your call, but option B comes with a paper trail and a lot more noise.”

“You got nothing to hide, right?” Harrison winks. The condescending prick actually winks. “You want to turn off the spotlight, here’s how you do it.”

They sit there in silence for nearly a minute. Finally, Declan’s rep leans over and whispers, “You want my advice, I think you should do it.”

Declandoes notwant his advice. He liked the man better when he kept his mouth shut.

Saffi is staring at the cut on Declan’s hand, scabbed over now. “How did that happen?”

Rusty pipe back at the subway station. Caught a sharp corner when I was practicing my death dive.

“Sliced it on the back of one of those benches in the park. A screw or something was sticking out.” Hell, even Declan doesn’t believe that, but he can’t tell them the truth. He rolls up his sleeve and tells the tech, “Go ahead.”

The tech gives Saffi a quick look and she nods.

He’s fast. Rubber tourniquet, quick needle prick. Less than a minute later, the tech is holding a small vial of Declan’s blood and Declan is pressing a cotton ball to his arm. With an eyedropper, the tech retrieves a small amount of blood from the vial and places four drops into separate wells on a plastic card about three inches square. “Takes about a minute,” he says softly, staring down.

Declan has no idea what he’s looking at, but two of the red dots go clear, the others remain dark red.

The tech says, “He’s A positive.”

Harrison doesn’t miss a beat. “Like the blood on the door frame at the Morrow place.”

Declan lifts the cotton ball on his arm. The bleeding has stopped. He tosses it aside. “The blood we found on Denise Morrow matched her husband too, until it didn’t.”

Saffi is staring at the tray. She says, “He’s right. Run it for DNA.”

The tech nods, packs up, and is gone a moment later.

“She’s framing me,” Declan tells them again.

“Of course she is.” Harrison flicks the corner of the plastic tray, setting it spinning, and sits back. “Maybe she was hiding under the park bench when you cut your hand. Her and Hoffman.”

Saffi ignores him and leans closer to Declan. “Where would she get your blood?”

Declan knows exactly where. “I donate every month—at Mercy. Same hospital where her husband worked.”

Harrison huffs. “Even if that’s true, it’s not like they write your name on the bag. It’s coded. Secured.”

“She’s got money,” Declan says. “You gonna tell me she couldn’t get it if she wanted to? This is a waste of time. A distraction. She’s playing with all of us.”

Harrison stubs a bony finger down on the table in front of Declan and growls at Saffi, “I want him charged. I want his badge and gun and him in a cell.”

“You don’t have the authority, you arrogant shit!” Declan fires back.

Saffi briefly squeezes her eyes shut and rubs her temples. “Enough, both of you. Nobody’s getting charged. Not yet.” Sheturns to Harrison. “This is no different than charging Morrow’s attorney. We jump the gun again, and the press skewers us. That’s bad for everyone.” She turns to Declan. “Until this is sorted out, I’m going to recommend to your lieutenant that you’re removed from this case.” Maybe she’s trying to sound soothing but it comes off as patronizing.

“Wait a minute, I—”

“You need to step back, Declan. All this is fodder for Denise Morrow’s defense. It’s reasonable doubt. You’re not helping anyone by staying in it. You want to put her away, you need to distance yourself. Let the rest of us work.”

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