Special Forces Saviour. Janie Crouch

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СКАЧАТЬ and added another case file to the pile she was carrying. Not that they couldn’t use twice as many technicians working here. That’s how much material was constantly brought in for them to process. The forensic lab handled just about everything having to do with evidence: toxicology, trace reports, forensic biology, pathology, prints, DNA and even human remains for all the Critical Response Division cases. Therefore the lab was in a constant state of backup. Hiring more technicians was on Molly’s to-do list, but the qualifications and security clearance required to work at Omega made the candidate pool slim.

      So for right now Molly planned to continue working twelve-to fourteen-hour days to help keep the lab producing results at the speed they were needed. Like today. She’d arrived at seven o’clock this morning and was still here even though it was nearly eight in the evening. She definitely needed to cut her sensible shoes a break.

      The other lab technicians had left a couple of hours ago, but being here by herself wasn’t unusual or even unpleasant. Molly didn’t expect her lab technicians to put in the same crazy hours she did. Often some of them were willing to stay late or come early if Molly asked, but she tried not to impose unless it was an emergency. These people had family. Molly didn’t, so it was easier for her to stay. Nobody was going to miss her at home.

      Molly got along well with all the people who worked in her lab. She treated them with the respect they deserved and, in turn, they worked hard. The key was direct, clear, respectful communication. Molly prided herself that she was not only good at the science part of her job, she was good at the communication aspect with her colleagues, as well.

      Derek Waterman walked through the swinging double doors of the inner lab.

      Well, maybe not all her colleagues.

      Molly turned away quickly and placed the files on her desk. She put them right smack in the middle so she wouldn’t accidentally knock them over. Molly had been known to do stupid things like that while in the presence of Derek.

      Jon Hatton and Liam Goetz were with Derek and none of them looked too happy. Molly could smell smoke on them from across the lab, coming from them. Derek had been in a fire.

      “Are you okay? Is everyone okay?” Molly rushed across the room, her long French-braided brown hair swinging over the shoulder of the white lab coat she always wore. These were three of the most intelligent and able-bodied men she’d ever known, but as active Omega agents they put their lives on the line daily.

      “We’re fine, sweet Molly,” Jon said to her as she stopped a few feet away from them. “Unless you count your boy Derek here almost being trapped in a burning building as not okay.”

      Molly felt the air rush out of her lungs. She looked over at Derek for just a moment, needing to take in with her own eyes that he wasn’t, indeed, seriously injured. His dark brown, almost-black hair had the tousled, disheveled look it always did, the five-o’clock shadow a permanent fixture on his chiseled face. He was leaning against one of the research tables, his long legs extended in front of him. She couldn’t see any signs of pain based on his body language or facial expressions. Just a slight stiffness in how he held his back.

      Molly knew Derek well enough to know that meant he’d been hurt.

      “Did you burn your sh-shoulders?” she asked him, the words barely coming out in a whisper. Molly pressed her lips together and looked down at her shoes. She heard Liam snicker quietly before Jon nudged him.

      “Yes, but I’m okay. Very minor first-degree burns on my shoulders and back,” Derek responded. “No real harm.”

      Molly just nodded, relieved the burns weren’t serious, although she could tell he had also suffered, at least to some small degree, from smoke inhalation. Derek’s sexy voice was even deeper and more gravelly than usual, and although she hated the cause, Molly couldn’t help but shiver slightly at the rougher sound of it.

      Of course, then she felt like a fool, as she always did when Derek was around, for the way she was acting. Molly turned to a desk behind her and pretended to sort through files. She didn’t blame Jon and Liam for snickering. Her behavior every time Derek entered the room was snicker-worthy.

      “We’ve got some evidence from a lead we followed dealing with the Chicago bombing,” Liam said as he began unpacking various evidence bags and laying them out on the table.

      Molly walked back around to the table so she was on the far side, careful not to look at Derek in any way, not even out of the corner of her eye. It seemed as if they had about a dozen items that needed processing.

      “We need a complete work up on all of it,” Jon told her. “DNA, fingerprints, any possible trace evidence. Everything.”

      Molly picked up one of the bags containing some sort of piece of computer hardware inside. “Was this evidence from the burning building?”

      “Not all of it,” Derek answered her, causing Molly to study the contents of the bag more carefully so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “Some of it is from what was left of a suspect before he killed himself. But the rest is from the burnt building.”

      “Is the body coming in here, too? Will I need to process that?” She looked at Liam and Jon as she said it.

      Liam shook his head. “Yes, but not until later. Local coroner will be bringing it by. We brought prints and DNA so you could get started.”

      “You know, the stuff from the fire will take longer. It will have to be manually run through the system, based on layers of damage. Probably have to use a clean room.” Molly put the bag back on the table. “Put it all over on the in-processing shelf. I’ll try to get somebody started on it in the morning, but it might be in the afternoon.”

      Both Liam and Jon started talking at her immediately, voices raised, speaking all over each other. Derek, she noticed, didn’t say anything. Molly held up a hand and eventually the two men stopped talking at the same time.

      “Molly, this is a priority,” Liam said. “It has to do with the Chicago bombing.”

      “I understand, Liam, but—”

      “The largest terrorist attack on American soil in over five years,” Jon continued. “We need the results on all of it right away.”

      Molly glanced quickly at Derek. He was just standing there, arms crossed over his large chest. She looked away again, not knowing what she would do if he interjected into the argument. Molly understood the men’s frustration, she really did.

      She looked over at the pile of files and packages of evidence on her desk. The problem was, every case was this important to someone. Those packages might provide clues to missing children, or someone’s murder, or the identity of a serial rapist.

      Everybody needed everything right away and that just wasn’t possible.

      “You guys,” Molly looked at Jon and Liam, and even risked a glance at Derek. “I—I’m sorry. We’re backed up in here.”

      “Molly.” Liam wouldn’t let it go. “We need all this now. It’s vital.”

      Molly threw her arm out toward the files on her desk. “All those cases are vital to someone, too, Liam. And they’ve been waiting longer than you.”

      Both Jon and Liam began their arguments again, but Molly tuned them out. She hated being in this position; hated having to tell them to СКАЧАТЬ