The Peyti Crisis: A Retrieval Artist Novel: Book Five of the Anniversary Day Saga (Retrieval Artist series 12) Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Maybe I sent it wrong. PierLuigi Frémont is dead. The network was down near the cell, so Didier asked me to come in there. Maybe he tried other guards. I don’t know. He probably couldn’t reach them. He used my private links.”
    She wasn’t sure how many times she’d have to repeat that last part.
    “What has that to do with the evidence box?” Duran asked.
    Oh, yeah. God, she was unfocused. It wasn’t fair to ask her to lie when her brain wasn’t working right.
    “Didier asked for it. He was afraid that some of the evidence would get screwed up or something. I left a bunch of bags with him. You need to send someone to help him—”
    “We’ve done that,” Duran asked. “Why did you leave him?”
    Now she was going to get in trouble for leaving him? How unfair was that?
    “It smelled. The environmental system was down too, and the smell was so bad I could taste it. I—” she held up a finger. Her stomach was rolling again. Just the memory of the smell made her feel ill.
    She swallowed hard. Her mouth no longer tasted of death. It tasted of stomach acid and tuna fish, and somehow she found that thought comforting.
    Her stomach settled.
    “Sorry,” she said. She sounded as miserable as she felt. “He didn’t want me to puke in there. He thought it would contaminate the scene.”
    To her surprise, Duran smiled. The smile wasn’t intimidating or fake. It seemed real and amused. “He was right. It looks like your stomach is sensitive, and we can’t have someone like that on the floor.”
    For a moment, Jhena thought she meant on an actual floor—and she was, and she was going to protest—but then she realized that Duran meant inside the block.
    “Forgive me for asking,” Jhena said, working hard at controlling her tongue, “but can I go now? I need to take care of myself before getting back to work.”
    Not that she wanted to go back to work. She wanted Duran to give her the rest of the night off. Of course, Duran wouldn’t do that. Duran wasn’t that kind.
    Besides, there was no one to take Jhena’s place. That was why she was working this shift in the first place.
    “Use one of those remaining evidence bags for your clothes,” Duran said. “Leave it in the forensic units. There’s a shower in the guards locker area that you can use and coveralls if you don’t have a change of clothes.”
    Now Jhena had to follow a script. She hoped she could remember all of it.
    “Can’t the bots just clean off my clothes?” she asked, and she didn’t even have to work at making herself sound plaintive.
    “No, this is too delicate,” Duran said as quickly as Didier had said she would. “The cleaning bots will destroy as much as they save.”
    Jhena eyed them. Three of them had gathered in front of the stall door, as if they were sentient and wanted access to her.
    She shuddered, even though the room wasn’t cold.
    “You need to bag the clothes, and leave them here.”
    “I threw up out here,” Jhena said. God, she was whining. “I don’t have many clothes, and if I leave any—can’t I just take them home?”
    Duran frowned just a little. Then she turned away from the camera, her gaze downward a bit. She was doing exactly what Didier had said she would do: she was checking Jhena’s progress from the blacked-out security area to the bathroom. She would see that Jhena hadn’t thrown up yet. She would see that Jhena hadn’t lied—at least about the clothes.
    “All right,” Duran said after a moment. “Bag them anyway, because I have to check this with my supervisor. But I have a hunch that he won’t have a problem.”
    Jhena suddenly felt very tired. One more hurdle crossed. “Thank you,” she said.
    “You did good work here, Andre,” Duran said. “Difficult situations often show our metal. Don’t worry about your sensitive stomach. You managed to get out of there, and that was good. Now, finish off your shift, and go home. And make sure you drink some fluids.”
    “Yes, sir.