As she started toward the rear of the room, she glanced at him, but somehow he hung onto his cool, not even acknowledging her as the rest of the would-be next generation of forensic scientists found their seats. Jay was certain that these students assumed his job was like CSI, glamorous and slick, in cities as cool as Las Vegas, New York, and Miami, with sexy, smart police officers and clever, if quirky, crime scene techs working against sly crooks. They probably imagined investigators who were always able to determine the perpetrator and send him away for good. Jay figured his job here was not so much to disavow the television image as to give them all a cold dose of reality.

“Some of you are probably wondering who I am,” he began, rounding the desk and balancing his hips upon its edge as the final stragglers slid into their seats. The classroom had seen better days and the worn flooring, scarred desks, and undulating fluorescent lighting suggested the last time it had been revamped was in the Eisenhower administration. “I’m Jay McKnight and I work for the New Orleans Police Department. I’ve got a double degree, one in criminology and another in clinical laboratory science, then a master’s in forensic sciences, the last from the University of Alabama. I also work for the New Orleans crime lab, which, as you probably guessed, since Katrina, has been a struggle. We lost our lab and more than five-million dollars worth of equipment in the storm. Evidence was destroyed and will never be regained. We’ve had to work out of space provided by other parishes’ sheriff’s offices or through private agencies, which has slowed things down incredibly. We’ve lost technicians, too, who got tired of living out of FEMA trailers and working in FEMA trailers and collecting evidence at FEMA trailers.”

He had their attention. Their eyes, serious now, were trained on him, and no one was talking or so much as chewing gum.

“But things are getting better. Slowly. We don’t have the offices and labs portrayed on television shows like CSI, but we do have our own facility now at the University of New Orleans at the lakefront campus.”

He glanced at Kristi. She, like the others, was regarding him soberly. If she felt any emotion other than studious regard, she sure managed to hide it.

Good.

“I know most of you thought the class would be taught by Dr. Monroe, but due to an illness in her family, she had to take some time off and so you’re stuck with me.