“Trace evidence. Hairs, fibers, paint chips, anything that looks out of place. Watch for strange marks, too. Scratches or scrapes. If we can determine how the robbers operated, we’ll know more of what to look for.”
“Careful what you touch,” Shelton warned. “The police haven’t been here yet. We don’t want to implicate ourselves.”
“Good thinking.” I scanned the open cabinets, spotted a package of latex gloves. Stepping carefully, I walked over and snagged the box. “Everyone grab a pair.”
Properly gloved, we each moved to our assigned sector.
Needle in a haystack.
I shoved the thought aside. All forensics was a needle hunt.
My thoughts flew to Aunt Tempe. How impressed she’d be if we helped crack the case. That weekend, my hero worship was full-blown.
Being honest with myself, wowing Tempe was the reason I wanted to investigate.
Then pay attention. A wandering mind misses clues.
I combed my zone systematically, front to back.
I’d chosen the far-left quadrant, which ran along the wall. Bringing my face close, I inspected the countertop, nose inches from the gleaming steel. Then I moved to the first of two workstations in my area. Shattered glass covered its surface. A scuffed area marked the former position of an electron microscope. The second station had once held a computer terminal. Now only stripped wires remained.
Minutes ticked by. Five. Ten. Twenty.
I didn’t need Shelton’s grumbles to know we were running out of time.
“Nothing,” Ben called from the other side of the room.
“Same,” Shelton echoed.
Hi was back where he’d started, a frown crimping his features. “I got squadoosh. Anyone know a good psychic?”
I felt discouraged. Smothered it. “We do it again.”
The boys watched me, saying nothing.
“We’ve only done one pass!” I gestured to the chaos covering the floor. “You’re sure you didn’t miss anything, in all that?”
Shelton tugged his ear. “The cops are on the way, Tor.”
“And your dad,” Ben added. “I’m surprised no one’s here yet.”
“Then we shouldn’t waste time chatting.” I made shooing gestures with my hands. “Get to work.”
A few looks, but the boys did as I asked. I knew they would. In moments we were all on hands and knees, combing the floor for anything useful.
I was starting to despair, when I spotted something.
There. By the base of the wall.
A tiny brown sliver.
I dropped to my belly and shimmied under the counter.
“Tory?” Hi had completed his second sweep. “Find a cookie?”
“I think . . . there’s something . . .” Moving cautiously, I plucked the tiny splinter between my thumb and index finger, then gingerly scootched backward and stood.
“Whadayagot?” Shelton was shirt-wiping his glasses. “Because my section is Zero Town, population nothing. Unless you like broken beakers.”
I peered intently at my find. “It’s wood. A chip.”
“The case breaker!” Ben said sarcastically. “Call the feds!”
My head shook in annoyance. “It doesn’t match anything, though. At least, nothing that I’ve seen over here.” My eyes scoured the rest of Lab Three for anything that might explain the tiny wedge.
The boys looked, too. Spotted nothing likely.
“The only wooden items are the cabinets,” I said.
“And several were crowbarred. Look.” Ben lifted a cabinet door that had been ripped from its hinges.
“But the cabinet wood is totally different.” I held the sliver close to one. “These doors are made of processed boards. Some kind of composite material, held together by adhesive.”
“They’re also lighter in color,” Hi added. “And layered, to be more pliable. That chip came from something else.”
Hi turned to Ben. “Check the lab for anything else made of wood. And make sure the other cabinets are identical to this one.”
Ben’s hands found his pockets. “I don’t think so.”
“Got it.” Hi swiveled back to me. “I’ll check the lab for anything else made of wood and make sure the other cabinets are identical to this one.”
“Good plan,” Ben said.
“I’ll help,” Shelton said. “We should be hustling.”
The two boys hurried to make another sweep.
I rotated the splinter in the palm of my hand. Triangular shape. Two sides rougher than the third, which was darker, smooth, and worn.
Holding the fragment up to the light, I noticed the grain was barely detectable.
And something else.
“There’s goop on this.” I tilted my hand back and forth, watching the light play over the chip’s surface. “A coating. Or residue. Sticky.”
Impulsively, I held it under my nose. “It smells like . . . nuts.”
“Nuts?” Ben scoffed. “Sure you’re not just hungry?”
“Zip it.” I sniffed again. “Maybe . . . more like grass. Or tree sap. I know I’m not making sense.”
Hi and Shelton rejoined us.
“No other wood,” Hi confirmed. “That specimen appears to be a foreign particle.”
“Which doesn’t necessarily mean it’s related to the break-in,” Shelton countered. “It could’ve hitched a ride in here on someone’s shoe. For all we know, it’s been there for weeks.”
“It’s a place to start.” I dropped the chip into a plastic glove, tied off the opening, and slipped the makeshift specimen bag into my pocket.
Hi rubbed his hands together. “What next? Should we start some interrogations?”
“Let me think.” Unnecessarily waving for quiet.
The boys waited. They trusted my instincts, and my ability to discern patterns. Skills that had served us well before.
Except now you’ve got nothing.
Just a slice of wood that doesn’t match the local wood.
An idea took root.
I moved to the closest shattered cabinet. “This was hacked open, right?”
“More like pried.” Ben pointed to deep gouges where the door met its frame. “See how the wood split, right at the edge? Someone jammed an object into the gap, then wedged it open.”
The idea congealed into a theory.
“A tool.” My mind was fitting pieces even as I spoke. “The robber must’ve used an implement to crack them. Some sort of lever.”
Three blank looks.
I tapped my pocket. “This splinter isn’t from the doors. It’s from the tool.”
Ben’s brows formed a V. “The instrument had to be metal, Tory. These doors fractured under some pretty serious force. I don’t think something wooden could’ve done the job without leaving at lot more splinters. My guess is they used a crowbar. Pure steel.”
“Okay.” Thinking furiously. “Damn.”
Shelton spoke up. “What if the wedging part was metal but the handle was made of wood?”
“Like an ax?” Hi rubbed his chin. “You think Jason Voorhees might be our man?”
“I’m just saying. Lots of tools have wooden grips.”
“Wait.” I squinted at nothing. “Hold up a sec.”
Hi’s mouth opened, but Ben snagged his arm. “Let her think.”
I barely noticed. Blocked them out. Tried to pin down what was bothering me.
Loggerhead. LIRI security. A shattered lab. All that missing equipment.
Something doesn’t track.
I considered the evidence, one point at a time.
“This crime. It’s odd.” I began to pace. “No alarms, no video, no record of any kind.”
“Happened during the software upgrade,” Shelton reminded. “They got l
ucky.”
“Not a chance.” Back and forth. “The thieves knew.”
The issue nagging at me came into sharper focus. “This heist was too neat and too dirty. Outside of this room, there are no kicked-in doors, smashed locks, or downed gates. Nothing to indicate a break-in occurred at all.”
I swept an arm around the room. “Until you get in here. Inside this lab.”
I froze, the answer on the tip of my tongue.
Muffled steps sounded in the hall.
“Move!” Ben hissed.
In a panic we bolted from Lab Three, Hi closing the door behind us. We booked down the corridor to the back of the building, around the corner, and up another dark hallway, putting the maze of cubicles between the noise and us.
We stopped. Listened hard.
Someone coughed. More footfalls.
I heard Kit’s voice, followed by a gruff tenor I didn’t recognize.
“Police?” Hi mouthed.
I shrugged.
I peeked over a cubicle wall. The elevators were directly across from where we were crouched. One set of doors was closing, the new arrivals already moving toward Lab Three.
Waving the others to follow, I continued to the west end of the building, turned another corner, and bolted for a stairwell dead ahead.
Thirty adrenaline-pumped seconds later, we were back on the ground floor.
“That was fun.” Hi was red-faced and puffing. “Hope no one left anything behind.”
“This way,” I whispered, stripping off the latex gloves and stuffing them in my back pocket. The others quickly followed suit.
Our next move had occurred to me in mid-flight.
“Where?” Shelton hissed, but I was already marching to the security desk.
As I’d suspected, Hudson was nowhere in sight. He’d undoubtedly gone upstairs with Kit and the others.
Another guard was sitting in the kiosk.
“Carl!” I called brightly. “How are you today?”
Carl Szuberla looked up from his magazine, expression guarded.
He’d probably been chewed out at least once today already. Hudson seemed the type to blame his subordinates if something went wrong.
“Hello, Miss Brennan.” Built like a lumpy bowling ball, Carl’s immense girth was jammed into a sky-blue uniform barely able to contain it. “Director Howard just went upstairs.”
His expression abruptly clouded. It must’ve occurred to him we’d come from inside the building, not out.
Though reliable, Carl was not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
He was perfect.
“Right. Kit sent me down with a question.” Assertively. “He wants to know whether the gates were opened at any point last night.”
Carl’s piggish face bunched into a knot. “Why didn’t he ask the chief? Hudson worked the graveyard shift, not me.”
“Kit wants the log checked. No stone unturned. That kind of thing.”
Sighing, Carl rose and waddled into the communications room. A few moments later he returned. “Neither gate was opened last night.”
“But wasn’t the electronic system down?” Shelton asked. “How can you be sure?”
“Both gates are zip-tied during any system maintenance.” Carl tapped his logbook. “Chief Hudson noted that both ties were in place this morning.”
“Excellent.” I headed for the exit. “Thanks so much.”
“Wait.” Carl gestured toward the elevator. “Aren’t you going to inform Dr. Howard?”
“I’ll text him. Thanks again!”
We hurried through the doors, down the steps, and into the courtyard.
LIRI is arranged in two lines of six buildings each, facing one another across a large central green. Flower-lined paths crisscross the courtyard, with stone benches set at intervals for those seeking fresh air.
I beelined to a grouping in the center of the quad.
“Ready to explain?” Hi dropped onto one of the benches. “Because I just exceeded a walking pace, and that’s not my thing.”
I did a quick 360 to see if anyone was within earshot, then motioned for the others to huddle close. With varying degrees of enthusiasm, they obeyed.
“I’ve got it.”
“Got what?” Ben asked. “Dementia?”
“The answer.” Hitching my thumbs into my armpits. “I’ve solved the case.”
“Inconceivable,” Shelton said. “Because I’m more lost than ever.”
I bounced on my tiptoes. Popped an eyebrow a few times for effect.
“You’re annoying me,” Hi stated. “Stop it, please.”
“Why was Lab Three the only room smashed?” I asked. “How come the rest of Building One didn’t suffer the same treatment?”
“Access,” Hi said. “The thief, or thieves, had a way into the building, but not the laboratory.”
“Very good. And how is that possible?”
No response. I was enjoying this.
“Because—” I drew out the word, “—the raid was an inside job.”
“Pssh.” Hi slumped back on the bench. “I’ve thought that from the beginning. The police will, too. How else would the crooks know exactly when the security system was down?”
“Okay, hotshot,” I challenged. “Then who did it?”
“I don’t know.” Hi crossed his arms. “You don’t either.”
“Who has access to the buildings, but not the labs?” I asked. “Yet would also know when the security system was down for maintenance?”
“A LIRI regular.” Shelton’s face lit up. “But someone not on the scientific staff! Otherwise, the robbers would’ve known the proper codes, or had keys, and wouldn’t have needed to tear up the room!”
Ben nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Okay.” Hi began gnawing his thumbnail. “So we’ve narrowed the profile to a LIRI employee without lab access. But that’s still, what, fifty people?”
“Roughly.” Then I smiled ear to ear. “But we can trim the field even more.”
Dramatic pause.
They glared. I ate it up.
“The gates, silly boys.” I tapped my temple. “They never opened, even after the equipment was swiped. Which means—” smacking my palm, “—whoever took the gear couldn’t get it out of the compound.”
Both arms, raised in triumph.
Met by puzzled looks.
“The equipment must still be on the grounds!” I spun, finger outstretched. “In one of these buildings. Find the loot, we find the crook.”
“Crap balls!” Hi breathed. “That’s freaking genius.”
“You did it!” Shelton took a hop-step toward Building One. “Let’s tell Kit!”
“Or . . .” I flashed a wicked smile.
What would Tempe do?
“We find it ourselves.”
Shelton’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “But how? There are a dozen buildings.”
I pulled the glove from my pocket and held it aloft. “We’ve got a few tricks up our sleeves, don’t we?”
“Oh.” All three at once.
They understood.
I reached for my sunglasses.
Squeezed my eyes shut.
SNAP.
I hate it, every time.
The shift is terrible, like being shoved into a washing machine filled with molten lava. Then electrocuted. Then beaten by a sock filled with doorknobs.
Quit whining, Shelton. Light the torch.
Slipping off my glasses, I closed my eyes and mumbled a prayer.
I focused on darkness. Tight spaces. Drowning. Hairy, crawling spiders.
Anything that gives me the creeps.
I still have to scare myself. Fear is my only trigger. I don’t know why, but if I’m not spooked, the power just won’t come. But I’
m getting pretty good at it, and that day I had no problem. Guess I was nervous already.
Contact.
SNAP.
The power jolted through me.
As the flare unfolded, fire exploded in my chest. Icy needles danced on my skin. Bolts of electricity shot through my veins.
Gasping, I gripped my knees. Sweat coated my body.
I tried to catch my breath as every sense blasted into hyperdrive.
The world sharpened to laser clarity.
My eyes cut like diamonds, could make out the tiniest crack in the sidewalk.
A hidden symphony flooded my ears, abruptly divisible into hundreds of individual components. Burrowing insects. Flapping wings. Leaves, sighing far overhead. I heard them all.
Subtle aromas crammed my nose—honeysuckle, from a garden fifty yards away. A dozen varieties of grass. Tory’s mango shampoo. Even Hi’s armpit sweat. Blech. I tried to keep my stomach from emptying.
I could detect the slightest vibration against my arm hairs.
Could taste different sands and salts on the breeze.
I flared. Tapped my canine DNA.
I never enjoy how the wolf came out to play. But the pain is worth it.
The results are ridonkulous.
“Everybody ready?” Tory slipped on sunglasses to hide her glowing, golden eyes.
We all had them, now that we’d switched on—wolf irises shining with inner fire. The only outward sign that our powers were active. The reason Virals carried shades 24/7.
Tory’s whisper was plenty loud for me. Flaring, I could hear her heartbeat.
Here’s the thing—somehow, the supervirus affected each of us differently. We can’t explain it. Maybe the little bugger enhanced strengths we already had. Maybe it exploited individual weaknesses.
Who knows? We don’t have the answers.
But we do have the skills.
For me, I could hear like an owl. Better, probably. More acutely than the other Virals, though they had crazy sharp ears, too. But mine left theirs in the auditory dust.
Hi backhanded his nose, then wiped his shorts.
“Good to go,” he wheezed, cheeks crimson, dark lenses in place.
He spun a quick circle, scanning to make sure we hadn’t been seen. Hiram had the best eyes, hands down. Flaring, he could count a bird’s feathers at a hundred yards.