This time he was reading her thoughts. She put her coffee down and leaned back, crossing her arms. “Tell me your name.”
He hesitated. “I go by many names these days.”
“Give me your birth name, then.”
He looked away, but not before she’d caught the hint of anger in his eyes. “I was never given a name at birth. The names I have are ones I’ve collected over the years.”
“Give me a name, or I get up and walk away.”
His hesitation was briefer. “Call me Joe Black.”
“What are you, a funny man? Joe Black was the name Death gave himself, in that movie.”
He shrugged. “You asked for a name; I gave it to you. When you have no name of your own, you steal others that appeal. And that one appeals.”
“Okay, then, Mr. Black—”
“Joe,” he murmured.
“Mr. Black,” she continued, ignoring his almost bitter smile. “What do you know about Jake Cooper and Liam Haynes?”
He sipped at his coffee for a minute. “Both worked on the Penumbra project. And both worked on Generation 18.”
“What can you tell me about Generation 18?”
“Nothing that your partner doesn’t already know.”
He said the word partner like it was a curse. She raised her eyebrows slightly. “Why do you want him dead when you haven’t even met him?”
“That would take longer to explain than we have.”
She frowned. “And what makes you so certain Gabriel knows anything about Generation 18?”
“Because the logical step after the first three murders is to pick up and question the two remaining scientists. And Stern is nothing if not logical.”
“How do you know about the murders? And how do you know that there are two men remaining?”
“I’m a mystic, remember?”
“Yeah, right. Maybe you’d better accompany me downtown for some questioning.”
“Do not push me, Samantha.”
Though there was no threat in his voice, no threat in the way he sat, fear surged and Sam swallowed. This man could reach out and kill her without even moving. Could snuff out the flame of her existence with merely a thought. How she could be so certain about something like that, she couldn’t really say. But she was certain.
“If you wish to find some answers,” he continued, “look at the pin I gave you.”
The pin? The one he’d given her when he saved her life? She frowned, trying to remember where she’d put it. Somewhere in her desk drawers, she thought. “Do you mean answers to the murders, or answers about myself?”
“Perhaps it would be a start for both paths.” He drained his coffee in one gulp and rose.
“We shall meet again, soon,” he said. “In the meantime, be careful. Your abilities will not protect you from the kites if you get too close.”
“The kites? What do you know about them?”
A smile ghosted across his face. “I made them,” he said, then raised his arms to the sky. His body shimmered, then began to blur, briefly resembling putty being molded by unseen hands. Then he leapt skyward on black wings.
A crow. The harbinger of bad news. The messenger of death. An oddly fitting choice for the stranger.
Could he be believed when he said he’d made the kites? She’d sensed no lie in his words, and yet it hadn’t seemed the entire truth, either.
And that made a whole lot of sense, didn’t it?
Snorting softly, she finished her coffee, then picked up the bill and paid it. She glanced at her watch. Another hour had passed. Gabriel was going to kill her.
It took half an hour to get back to headquarters. By that time, her head was pounding again. She went straight to her dark little hole.
“Computer on.” She threw her coat over the back of the chair and sat down.
“Afternoon, sweetness. How’s your day been?”
“Just peachy. You got those test results back yet?”
Izzy swung her boa, her expression a little startled. “My, we are a bit abrupt right now, aren’t we?”
Sam rocked her chair back against the wall and rubbed her eyes. Now her damn com-unit was telling her off. These things were definitely becoming too human. “Sorry, Izzy. I’ve got a bitch of a headache.”
“Perhaps you should see a doctor.”
There was something almost coy in Izzy’s voice. She opened her eyes and stared at the pink fuzz-ball. “And can you recommend one?”
“I can recommend five, actually. Funnily enough, they’ve all bought Heat in the last month.”
“Izzy, you’re a doll. Did you cross-reference the results with our records?”
“Certainly did, sweetie. There’s one match. Our doctor is a changer, but that’s it, I’m afraid. Definitely no sister.”
She tapped her fingers against the desk. The murderer was definitely a shifter; that much they knew. But that didn’t explain how she was getting in and out without being seen. There was something else, something they were missing. “Make an appointment for me to see her.”
“You might want to reconsider that. The doctor in question is a vet.”
“Then I’ll find a dog to take along. What about the Jadrone search? Is that finished yet?”
“I’ve been working my butt off here, darlin’. Of course it’s finished.”
“Was Emma Pierce listed?”
“No. But Harry Maxwell was.”
“What?” Sam let her chair thump back. If Harry had a legal prescription, why did he need an illegal supplier? Had his need for the drug grown stronger than his legal prescription would allow?
“That’s right, sweetness. Also listed were Raylea Burns, Anna Jakes and Dr. Brandon.”
Along with Harry Maxwell, all victims of their serial killer. Sam rubbed her forehead. “Are these recent prescriptions?”
“Yes, though all four had been taking the drug since their mid-teens, from the look of it.”
“Do a check on the prescribing doctor. And get me his address.”
“Consider it done, sweetie.”
“Thanks.” Sam watched the purple boa rotate for several seconds. “Izzy, are any of the four on file as being shifters?”
The boa twirled a little faster while Izzy searched the records. “Not a one.”
Then why the hell were they being prescribed Jadrone? Especially at such a young age? “Get me the autopsy results for Jakes, Burns and Brandon.”
“Onscreen.”
The three reports tiled onto the screen and Sam quickly read through them. No evidence of Jadrone had been found in the toxicology or blood reports. So why were they being prescribed the drug if they weren’t actually using it?
“Izzy, who performed the autopsies?”
“Warren Michaels.”
“Get him on vid for me.”
Izzy tapped her foot for several seconds, then disappeared, replaced by a dark-haired man in his mid-forties.
“Agent Ryan,” Warren Michaels said. “What can I do for you?”
“You handled the serial killer autopsies, didn’t you?”
“Yep. Why?”
“I just found out that all of them were being prescribed Jadrone. Would you have any idea why?”
Michaels frowned and scratched his shadowed chin. “If they were taking it, I found no evidence of it.”
“So I read. And yet all of them had been prescribed the drug since puberty, from what I can gather.”
“I can’t see why. They weren’t shifters.” He hesitated and frowned. “There was an unknown substance in their toxicology results, one we haven’t been able to pin down. And I did notice severe bone degradation in both Maxwell and Jakes.”
“Is it usual to be unable to identify substances?”
“No, not unless it’s something new to the market. We’re still searching, and may yet match it.”
Then she’d keep her fingers crossed for a result. “What sort of degradation was there? And how might it be connected to Jadrone?”
“Shifting puts severe stress on the body’s organs, particularly bone and muscle. As the shifter gets older, the bone and muscles become less pliant, more brittle. Arthritis and other associated diseases become a real problem. In a shifter, this doesn’t normally happen until they are well into the mid–one-fifties, one-sixties. Even in humans, it doesn’t normally happen until your late sixties.” He paused. “Jadrone was administered to shifters to keep the pain at bay and slow degradation.”
“Is there a history of this sort of degeneration in either Jakes’s or Maxwell’s family?”
“That we don’t know.”
She frowned. “Why?”
Michaels snorted. “They were adopted, the same as Burns and Brandon. Don’t you read follow-up reports?”
The edge of derision in his voice stung. “Obviously not.” Nor had Gabriel mentioned that fact. “Let’s presume there’s no history of this in their background. What else might be the cause?”
Michaels shrugged. “Random chance? It happens. Kids as young as five get arthritis, you know.”
Yeah, but their killer wasn’t attacking kids as young as five. There was some sort of pattern here, but one they couldn’t quite see yet. “What about the other two?”
“Minor degradation. A little more than what you’d expect for their age, but nothing extreme.”
“Did you do a cellular analysis on the four?”
“No need to. They were human.”
“Then do it. And tell me what you find.”
Michaels raised his eyebrows. “By whose authority are you ordering this?”
“Assistant Director Stern’s.” She looked up as the man in question stepped into her office. He raised an eyebrow and walked the two steps over to the desk.
“Sorry, Agent Ryan,” Michaels was saying, “I can’t order that sort of investigation without permission from the man himself.”
Gabriel placed a hand on the back of her chair, his face close to hers as he stared at the com-screen. “Then you have it, Michaels. Please proceed.”
Michaels nodded and signed off, and Gabriel sat back on the edge of her desk. “What did I just authorize?”
“A cellular analysis on our four victims.”
He crossed his arms and regarded her for a minute. The intensity of his gaze made her want to squirm like some errant ten-year-old facing a headmaster. And that, more than anything, annoyed the hell out of her. What was it about this man that got to her so easily?
“Really? Why?”
She tilted her chair back, her knee brushing against his and sending warmth surging across her flesh. But he didn’t move, so nor did she. “All four were being prescribed Jadrone, and yet they were not on record as being shifters.”
“Jadrone has no effect on humans.”
“Exactly. And yet Maxwell was a junkie who got high on it regularly, and he and the others had been prescribed it since their teens. I think we need to find out why.”
He frowned. “I agree. But there was no mention of Jadrone being found in their systems.”
“Which makes me wonder why—especially with Maxwell. He was a junkie for years, and had severe bone degradation. It’s unclear whether the Jadrone is at fault or something else.”
“Are you doing a trace on the prescribing doctor?”
“Izzy’s handling it now. Why didn’t you mention that all four victims were adopted?”
“Why were you going through the files? You’re supposed to be handling the kite murders.”
“And the kite murders might well be connected to these murders.” She studied him for a moment, then added, “You can’t have it both ways, chum. Either you allow me to do my job properly, letting me follow all leads, or you confine me to this little box and the inane paperwork you keep dredging up, and get someone else to do the investigating.”
“You’ll do what I tell you to do. And right now, that’s investigating the kite murders—nothing more, nothing less.”
His face was remote, his eyes cold. She felt like strangling him. God, the man was aggravating! As he no doubt intended.
“Why are you here, Assistant Director? Planning to leave me another nice note, were you?”
His arms flexed, as if he were clenching his fists. “You left the safe house more than an hour ago. Where the hell were you?”
“Having coffee with a friend.”
“You don’t have any friends.”
“Obviously not.” An edge of bitterness crept into her voice. She took a deep breath and crossed her legs. Warmth still tingled where their knees had touched and she scratched at it irritably.
“That’s not…” Gabriel looked away from her gaze. “Next time, report in first.”
“Yes, sir.” This time she resisted the urge to salute.
His anger still washed over her, and she shuddered and leaned back, trying to get some fresh air.
Concern flitted briefly through his hazel eyes. “You okay?”
“Yes. Fine.” She rubbed her forehead briefly. She really had to go see a doctor. Not only about the headache, but the weird sensations that kept washing over her.
Izzy chose that moment to reappear. “You have a five-fifteen appointment with the animal quack, sweetness.”
“Thanks, Izzy.”
Gabriel gave her com-unit a somewhat disgusted look. But then, he wasn’t into cartoons. Or com-units with character. “You’re visiting a vet? Why?”
“My dog’s sick.” She’d be damned if she’d tell him the truth. He’d probably go interview the vet himself and leave her here in this shoe box doing another inane task.
“You don’t have a dog.”
“I will tonight.”
He studied her thoughtfully. “The cross-check came up with her name, didn’t it?”
“Yeah.” She rubbed her forehead again and waited for the axe to fall.
He was silent for a few seconds. Then he sighed and rested his palms on the desk. “When are you going to see a doctor about that headache of yours?”
Consideration when she’d expected an axe was definitely cause to be wary. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you’ve had that headache for the last few days. I think it’s time you got it checked out.”
“I will.” She barely kept her irritation in check. Lord, it was bad enough that he was ordering her around at work. Now he was trying to run her private life, as well?
“When?”
“Soon.”
Gabriel shook his head and looked at the com-unit. “Izzy, make an appointment for Sam with Dr. O’Hearn at the Collins Street clinic.”
“Sorry, sweetie, but you’re not the boss in this shoe box.”
Surprise and annoyance flitted across Gabriel’s features and Sam smothered her laugh. She would have hugged the cyber character if she could have. “Who’s Dr. O’Hearn? SIU employed?” If he was, she was staying well away. An SIU doctor meant Gabriel could access her records, and he knew more than enough about her already.
He shook his head. “No, but she collaborates with both the Federation and the SIU. She’s a specialist in nonhuman medicine.”
Sam snorted softly. “So you could get access to my medical files?”
“Not with Dr. O’Hearn, I can’t. She’s a total stickler when it comes to patient confidentiality.”
“Then why are you sending me to her?”
“Because she’s not only the best, she’s also the only one who might truly be able to help you.”
Because they didn’t know what was she was, other than the fact that she was not entirely human. She glanced at the boa-twirling fuzz-ball. “Do it, Izzy.”
“Right away, darlin’.”
“Tell Dr. O’Hearn I recommended you. She’ll forward the bill to the Federation.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not a part of the Federation.”
He crossed his arms. “You could be, if you wanted to.”
“What’s this, a recruitment attempt?” And why now, a good month after she??
?d found out about the Federation?
He shrugged. “No. Just something for you to think about.”
“Why? I don’t know a thing about the Federation, apart from what you’ve told me.”
“I’ve already told you the important stuff.”
“You gave me a brief background. That’s hardly the same as knowing their current goals.”
He shrugged. “If you’re interested, let me know.”
She considered him for a moment. His face, as ever, was neutral. It was hard to judge whether he was actually serious or not. “I thought you were trying to get me out of your life.”
His smile seemed almost bitter. “I don’t want you out of my life—quite the opposite, in fact. I just don’t want you as a partner. It’s nothing personal.”
Yes, it was—at least to her. And if he did want her in his life, then what role would she be playing if not a partner? A friend? It certainly couldn’t be as a lover—not if his determined lack of reaction to her physically was anything to go by. Or was he merely reacting that way because she was his partner? Did he perhaps believe in not combining work and play? Or had he, she thought, remembering his first partner had been a woman, tried it once, and sworn never to do it again after losing her? That was most certainly the answer, though why she was so certain she couldn’t say. It was just a conviction she felt deep inside.
She just wished he’d trust her enough to confide in her. Maybe then she could make him see how stupid he was being. But until he said something, she couldn’t.
Izzy twirled onto the com-screen. “There’s a call from a General Frank Lloyd on vid-screen. You want to take it?”
Sam glanced at Gabriel. He slid off the desk and stood near her chair—close enough to see the screen but out of direct line of sight.
“Patch it through, Izzy.”
General Frank Lloyd came onscreen. “Agent Ryan, I presume?” His voice, like his appearance, was powerful.
She nodded. “What can I do for you, General?”
“I need to know why you have requested information on these thirteen people before we can go any further.”
“We have a number of murder victims that may be linked with Hopeworth. They’re certainly linked with an Emma Pierce, who worked at Hopeworth for a number of years. In fact, Emma Pierce may be the mother of at least two of the victims.”