He had run every test he could think of. Then he had contacted Mac, who had suggested even more. Still, Adam was stymied. Mac and Hawkes' case was stuck and all of their hopes were riding on this one sample of dried blood.

So far he'd tested for DNA - too degraded to get anything usable. Blood type - O positive. Drug use - nothing but the presence of a small amount of acetaminophen, probably an over the counter dose. Viruses and antibodies - nothing uncommon.

Running his hand through his hair in frustration, he leaned back against the lab bench. There was only enough of the original sample remaining for one test. He could use the last sample to test for something else. But they'd risk getting it thrown out in court since there wasn't any remaining sample for the defense to test. At this point he didn't even have any idea of what else to test for. Carefully packing the remaining sample back in the petri dish, he turned to return it to the evidence cooler.

His foot hit something slick and he grabbed at the lab bench, knocking over a bottle of sodium chloride someone had left out. He felt like a character of an Acme cartoon as he fell, scrabbling to hold onto the petri dish while trying to stay upright. There was a bump against his calf - the bottle rolling off the bench - and the game was up. He could hear the sound of shattering, and a splash of liquid against the floor, as the bottle broke on impact. The petri dish finally slipped from his grasp and hit the ground. Breaking. Contaminating their last sample.

Adam dropped his head, sore and aching from hitting the floor, back against the wet tile in defeat. He could hear people coming, someone yelling for Hawkes.

It was over. He'd ruined it. Now they had nothing.