Central City Police Department.
Eight forty in the morning.
Yang Ming pushed open the Forensics Department door, then stopped just as he stepped inside.
Barry's desk gleamed.
Yesterday, it had been piled with coffee cups, energy bar wrappers, old case files, half a bag of chips, and a sock that had come from who knew where. Now, all of it was gone.
The microscope sat squarely in the center.
The keyboard and mouse were neatly aligned.
There wasn't even a chip crumb on the desktop.
It was as clean as a freshly wiped Dissection Table in the morgue.
Yang Ming stood before the desk and leaned down to sniff.
Lemon-scented disinfectant.
Strong, too.
But the Central City Police Department bought unscented cleaning products. The bottle he had used yesterday was still sitting on the corner of his own desk.
Someone had come here overnight.
And it hadn't been an ordinary cleaner.
An ordinary cleaner wouldn't have sorted all of Barry's old files by year, unplugged and reconnected the cables behind his computer tower, or wiped away the fine metal dust around the drawer's lock cylinder.
Yang Ming reached out and ran a finger along the underside of the desk.
A little black powder clung to his fingertip.
Not dust.
It was residue left by rubber gloves rubbing against the surface.
"Morning."
Barry's voice came from the doorway.
Yang Ming turned.
Barry stood there looking awful, with two dark circles beneath his eyes. He held two cups of coffee, his shirt collar was buttoned wrong, and his hair was a mess with a style all its own.
He clearly hadn't slept much last night.
"Morning." Yang Ming took the coffee. "Did someone lay your desk to rest?"
Barry blinked.
"What?"
Yang Ming raised a hand and pointed at the desktop.
"Yesterday,