Chapter 3
Darren kicked the door shut, dropped his backpack on the rug, and flopped backwards onto the bed, arms out. He bounced once, his glasses flew off onto the pillow, and he groaned at the eased pressure off his heels. Work shoes absolutely sucked.
He was training as a crime scene examiner with the police. His first week had just finished, and they’d already progressed from desk safety (seriously?) to graphic descriptions of what happened to the human body when exposed to certain toxins. But it was interesting stuff, even if it was a lot of wandering around fake crime scenes. He’d figured in a few years, they’d all want degrees off their applicants, not just A-levels, so get in now before they started asking, and it had worked. Okay, so he’d had to move a fair way to do it, and ren
