“I see,” said Heubel. “But still, someone bled in there and it wasn’t me.”

“You’re sure about that, sir?”

“Hundred percent positive. The first thing I did was to go inside and check my legs — maybe I got a mosquito bite and didn’t feel it. Not that it would bleed through my pants — I was wearing heavy jeans — my winter Diesels, they’re darn sturdy.” Patting his thigh. “I checked the front and the back of my legs, even used a mirror. Nothing.”

“That’s a lot of effort,” said Milo.

“I was a bit shaken up, Lieutenant. First the car gets taken right out of my driveway, then I find it, then there’s blood? I guess when you do the DNA and it doesn’t match to any crime victims, I’ll be able to put it to rest.”

“There’s no reason to do DNA, sir.”

“No?” said Heubel. “I heard the technology’s much better than back in the O.J. days. All these new tests, you can get results quickly.”

Milo glanced at Sean.

Sean said, “Quicker, but it still takes time, sir. And DNA’s a real expensive process.”

“Ah,” said Heubel. “This is low priority for you guys.”

“It’s not like we don’t appreciate your situation, sir—”

“The shock,” said Milo. “The feeling of violation.”

“You’ve got that right,” said Heubel. “But the main issue is what’s to say he’s not still out there plotting something?”

Milo gave him what he calls the Forensics Damage Control Lecture. An increasing necessity due to week after week of televised fairy tales.

The main points were: Forensic wizardry made for good entertainment but crime scene minutiae were relevant in less than 10 percent of crimes, the DNA logjam at the Department of Justice was so severe the department contracted with a lab in New Jersey for the overflow, and the backup was so bad only homicides and violent sexual assaults merited analysis.

“Even with a serious felony, Mr. Heubel, it can take months.”

“Wow. How in the world do you ever solve any crimes, Lieutenant?”

Milo smiled. “We bumble around and sometimes we get lucky.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to — ten percent, that’s all?”

“At best.”

“Okay, I hear you… It’s just that one lives in a specific neighborhood in the belief that one can be relatively insulated from — I suppose that’s also a fantasy.”

“This is a safe neighborhood, sir. One of the safest in our division.” Holding back the nasty little Westside secret: Violence in the high-priced zip codes is rare but burglaries, including grand theft auto, aren’t. Because as one captured burglar put it, “That’s where the cool stuff is.”

Nicholas Heubel said, “So I should just calm down and forget it ever happened.”