Snakes & Ladders by Sean Slater Read Free Book Online

say nothing and get in the car.’
    Striker powered down the driver’s side window. The blonde woman took notice and hurried over, almost slipping in her high heels.
    ‘Detective Striker. Detective Striker!’ she called.
    ‘No comment,’ he said politely.
    He tried to show no emotion. But it was hard. There was no doubt in his mind that he and Felicia would now be on the local news tonight, and that irritated him.
    Felicia shook her head as she looked at the news crew. ‘Must be a slow night,’ she noted.
    ‘For them ,’ Striker replied. ‘For us, it’s about to get busy.’
    He put the car into Drive and pulled out on to the road. The lab was waiting.
    For the first few minutes of the drive, silence filled the car. Felicia was reading through Mandy Gill’s long and troubled history, and Striker had taken a handful of aspirin to get rid of the headache that was growing behind his eyes. When they reached the corner of Clark and Broadway, Felicia looked up, confused.
    ‘Why are we going this way?’ she asked. ‘The lab is south.’
    Striker said nothing as he navigated around a parked bus and continued west.
    ‘Jacob?’ she persisted.
    He glanced over at her. ‘Using the police lab will take months,’ he explained. ‘Weeks, in fact, even if we could put a rush order on it. No, we’re going private on this one.’
    ‘Private? You know how much that costs.’
    ‘Don’t worry, I got it covered.’
    ‘ You got it covered? Like, personally?’ When he didn’t answer right away, her eyes narrowed. ‘What are you up to now? How are we going to pay for this?’
    ‘Contingency fund.’
    She gave him one of her probing looks, and Striker felt her hot black eyes bore into him. He ignored the feeling and pretended to be oblivious – like he always did when trying to avoid a discussion with Felicia.
    They continued on to their destination, swerving in and out of the seven o’clock lingering rush-hour grind. When they reached the fifteen hundred block of West Broadway Avenue, Striker pulled over to the north side of the road and stopped in a No Parking Zone. He threw a Vancouver Police placard on the dashboard.
    Above the Chapters book store, GeneTrace Laboratories occupied the top two floors of the Bosner Tower, a ten-storey, glass-and-steel monstrosity that took up the entire southwest corner of the Granville–Broadway intersection. The windows were all tinted black, and the moon and car lights reflected off the glass panes in a display that looked eerily festive.
    Striker had been here before.
    Many times.
    Obtaining DNA results was an arduous and painful process if you went through the proper channels. The police lab was a nightmare – great technicians with no support. Wait times could be as long as two years, sometimes even three, if the crime was only a property-related offence.
    With the private labs, a complete test with 16-loci quality could be attained in as little as seven days. Less, if the customer was willing to buck up. Private was always the best way to go. And as far as Striker was concerned, GeneTrace was the cream of the crop; they had state-of-the-art facilities and the latest, ground-breaking technology. All of which the customer paid for – and paid dearly.
    ‘What contingency fund?’ Felicia asked.
    Striker just gave her one of his trademark smiles and opened the car door.
    ‘Don’t ask questions you won’t like the answer to.’
    He grabbed the paper bag with the glove in it from the trunk, turned around, and marched across the street to the Bosner Tower.
    Being just after seven, they had plenty of time. GeneTrace Laboratories was open until ten, though Striker often made arrangements for after-hours drops. The owners of GeneTrace were good businessmen.
    And cops got preferential treatment.
    Inside, the waiting area looked more like a trendy cappuccino shop than a science laboratory. Black leather Casa Nova sofas, white marble floors, and stone-and-glass coffee tables were the