Chapter 03

Kwan tore his gaze away from his work and glared at his friend while Dash paced on the other side of the table. This had been going on for the past twenty minutes as Dash flipped through the file in his hands. "You're being really annoying," Kwan said, pinching the bridge of his nose and sending his glasses askew. "I can't concentrate with you pacing like that." He fixed his glasses to sit straight on his nose again.

"Two arrests," Dash complained and slapped the closed file down on the tabletop. "We've been working here for about the same amount of time, and he's already made two arrests. And me? All I have to my name is one blundered arrest of an undercover cop."

"I never should have given you Fenton's file," Kwan muttered, hanging his head. "Let it go, Dash. Why does it matter who's made more arrests? This is a job, not a contest. He works alone undercover. Of course he gets credit for the arrests. While you work with Hearst, who, if he ever got off his lazy ass, would steal credit for any arrest you make."

"I still think he purposely runs patrol routes where he knows no crimes will happen." Dash folded his arms, anger etched across his face. He didn't expect crimes to happen all the time, but they seemed to never have much in the way of serious crimes occurring on their patrols. He knew he wasn't in some competition to beat Fenton in the number of arrests they made. Misplaced anger, Kwan would tell him. Old habits, Dash decided. It was easy to place all his anger and frustration on Fenton, like he did back in high school. "I just want to do something more than shutting down frat parties."

"Maybe you should take a page from Fenton," Kwan suggested as he adjusted the microscope before him on the table. "You could see about transferring to an undercover job."

Dash huffed at that but admitted there was some appeal to the idea. Working undercover would at least give him the excuse to work alone instead of being stuck as partners with Hearst. Then he snorted. "And copy Fenton?"

Kwan sighed as he sat back in his chair. Was he ever going to get his work finished? "What are you going to say next?" An eyebrow lifted with the question. "You can't pursue an undercover career because that's what Fenton does, and Fenton's a loser and that makes it uncool?"

"I know this isn't high school," Dash snapped loudly, but Kwan merely watched him, unimpressed with the outburst.

"Well, I'm glad you've realized that because I ran into Fenton earlier today and told him we should all hang out."

Dash's eye twisted at that comment, and he didn't miss the half smirk on Kwan's face. "Why would you do that?" He kept his voice under control, but it was tense, holding back another angry explosion.

"He's the only other person who went to Casper High with us that still lives here," Kwan explained as he glanced toward the door. His boss Berman would be back any moment now, and the man hated when Dash popped by for visits. "I thought it would be nice to have someone else to hang out with. You should see if he's available for our murder movie marathon on Saturday."

"Why don't you do that?" Dash clearly didn't approve of Fenton joining them on their night to kick back and relax. "You're the one that invited him in the first place."

"You're more likely to run into him before I do." Kwan fiddled with the microscope again as he peered down at the sample on the slide. "I'm stuck down here in the lab all day, after all."

"Baxter, haven't I told you to stop coming in here and distracting him?" Berman demanded the moment he entered the lab. He was a tall lanky man with thick glasses that made his eyes look five times their normal size. He apparently didn't get out much in the sun either because he was as pale as a ghost. "We're very busy analyzing evidence."

"I was just leaving," Dash said in his fake polite voice. Kwan remembered hearing his friend slip into that voice every time he came over in high school and greeted Kwan's parents. Then Dash leaned toward Kwan. "You do realize Fenton will probably say no, right?"

Lifting his head, Kwan grinned at his friend. "I wouldn't be too sure about that answer." His grin didn't leave when Dash glowered at him, and Kwan knew that only annoyed his friend even more.

"Back to work," Berman barked, making Kwan cringe.

"Catch ya later." Dash picked up the file then left the lab.

Kwan sighed as he turned back to his current assignment. He knew Dash wouldn't be happy with the idea of Fenton hanging out with them, but he had feared Dash would start shouting about the absurdity of a loser hanging around them. It seemed like a crazy idea even to him. When he spotted Fenton sitting on the curb, Kwan surprisingly couldn't leave it alone. He knew Dash was right: Fenton would find some excuse to say no and get out of joining them. Kwan thought they needed to at least try reaching out to him. He could simply be reading something that wasn't there, but Fenton looked lonely to him.

Kwan reached for a pen to jot down a note. "Ow!" He yanked his hand back quickly when he felt something pierce his flesh. His movement caused the sharp implement to slice across his flesh. Blood beaded along the cut on the back of his hand. He stared at the shallow wound, baffled. What had cut him? There was nothing sharp on the table. A clatter drew him from his confusion. Kwan glanced over and spotted a scalpel resting on the table. With a frown, he picked up the scalpel. The tip was stained with his blood. Where did the scalpel even come from? They didn't keep any in their lab. Kwan stood, and Berman looked up from his work.

"Where are you going?" Berman demanded, thinking Kwan was slacking off again.

"I, uh, cut myself," Kwan answered in a somewhat doubtful manner. He couldn't fathom what exactly happened. The scalpel appeared out of nowhere. But if it had been left out randomly, how could it have sliced across the back of his hand? It was almost like someone stood over him and slashed at his hand the moment he reached out with it. Except no one had been there. Only Berman and he were in the lab after Dash left.

Kwan exited the lab and entered the nearest bathroom. "Maybe I'm just tired," he mumbled as he turned on the water in the sink. Since the cut was shallow, the bleeding already stopped. He washed away the few drops of blood. Did tiredness really explain how he cut himself? Kwan stared at the thin line on the back of his hand then sighed. He did feel too tired to think of an explanation, which made him look forward all the more to movie night on Saturday. He needed the night to unwound after a long week. "If only it was already Friday." But unfortunately, it was only Tuesday. He dried off his hands and tossed the used paper towel into the trash. He left the bathroom, missing a chuckle that was too soft to hear over the creak from the door as it closed behind him.