So why had she trusted Kazdan? If there was ever a man not to trust, it was that lying, murdering hound.
“Am I still under investigation for Jack’s death?” she asked eventually.
He nodded. “You shot and killed your partner. Did you expect them not to investigate?”
“No, but—” She stopped, and sighed. A frustrated sound if he’d ever heard one.
“There’s nothing much anyone can do until those test results come back and confirm or deny your story.”
“You can confirm my story!”
He ignored the anger in her voice. “Only part of it. The fact is, I was long gone by the time you killed your partner.”
“You can still confirm the fact that they were trying to kill me.”
“But not the fact that Jack was.”
She made a noise in the back of her throat that sounded like an exasperated growl. He looked at her, but she was now looking out the window and refused to meet his gaze, though the sudden tension in her shoulders made it obvious that she was well aware of his scrutiny.
The rest of the journey passed in silence. He parked in the SIU’s underground lot and climbed out. She avoided his attempt to guide her across to the elevators, walking by his side but just out of arm’s reach. He swiped his pass through the security slot and punched the button for subfloor twenty-eight. Once they reached the main lab area, he led her to the unoccupied reception area and paged Finley.
“Why all these tests?” She leaned back against the whitewashed walls and gave him what could only be described as a hostile look.
For all of two seconds, he thought about lying. But if he wanted her to trust him, he had better start giving her some reason to do so. So he shrugged and said, “Because you did something the other night you shouldn’t have been able to.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Something other than having the audacity to save myself when my partner was trying to kill me?”
His smile was grim. “You sensed the kite-monster. You shouldn’t have been able to do that.”
“Why? You obviously could.”
Yeah, but he was not only a shapechanger, but somewhat sensitive to other nonhumans. From the little they knew about the kites, humans couldn’t see or sense their presence until it was far too late. And she was supposed to be human.
“The kites are a new find. Few people know of them, and fewer still have been able to see them early enough to survive an attack. You did, and we need to know why.”
The anger in her blue-gray eyes had died a little, but not the frustration and wariness. “So the psych tests were just a reason to get me down here to do these other tests?”
“Basically, yes.”
“At least someone’s being honest,” she muttered, then gave him a smile that held little real warmth. “Thanks.”
He nodded and glanced up as Finley came down the hall.
“You’re early,” Finley commented, pushing his thick glasses back up his nose.
He wondered why the young doctor just didn’t have laser correction or get implants for his eyes. Hell, given Finley’s skills in the medical field, he could probably even do the procedure himself.
“How small do they make microchips these days?”
Finley’s expression was one of surprise. So was Sam’s.
“The largest they make them is pinhead size. Those are rather outdated, of course.”
“Can they be inserted into a human body? Used to track movements?”
Finley glanced at Sam. “Yeah. Want me to look for one?”
Gabriel nodded. They’d been found too quickly at the Rosewater. They hadn’t been followed there from Sam’s apartment, nor had he told anyone that they were going to be there. Only Karl had known, and even he didn’t know who Sam was.
Which left them with Sam herself.
“I’ll let you know what I find,” Finley stated, and waved her ahead of him.
Gabriel nodded and turned, heading for his office. He had to call Karl, and then he had plans to make. There was a traitor in the Federation’s midst, a traitor intent on taking the life of his brother. It wasn’t going to happen. Not if he could do anything to stop it.
He had no idea who was behind this particular attempt, but he would find the culprit.
And then he would kill him.
SAM LEANED BACK IN THE well-padded armchair and watched Finley walk out the door. In some ways, the doctor reminded her of a dragonfly—he was always darting about from one machine to another, as if he couldn’t remain still for more than a few minutes. And he was about as skinny as one of those insects, too.
She glanced at the monitor on the far wall. It was nearly nine. Four hours she’d been here, being poked and prodded and shoved inside huge, impersonal machines. And she’d had just about enough. None of this would find any answers. Not the answers she wanted, anyway.
Her gaze dropped to the ID tag sitting on the nearby table. She frowned, reached forward and picked it up. Finley had given it to her earlier, warning that she’d need it if she wanted to go to the restroom. She’d thought he was joking, until she’d actually tried to go. Anyone would think the toilet seats were gold.
She turned the card over and caught sight of some writing in the left corner. Security clearance level three. Her heart began to beat a little faster. It was probably the minimum clearance you needed to move around the SIU halls, but upstairs, in the areas governed by State, level three would get her into the morgue.
Her gaze went to the door through which Finley had disappeared, and she smiled grimly. She needed answers, and this tag would help her get some.
She clipped it on, rose, and walked across to the door. Finley glanced up from the com-screen as she entered the outer room and gave her a distracted smile. Her own smile was easy. Jack had once told her she was a natural actress. She hoped like hell he was right.
“Restroom again,” she said. They’d been feeding her enough fluid over the past few hours that she knew he’d accept the explanation.
He nodded and returned his attention to the monitor. She moved into the hall and stopped. It was still deserted, and the silence was almost intense. Finley had told her that only a skeletal staff worked here during the day. The SIU, with its task of investigating all matters relating to the paranormal, tended to be nocturnal, which meant there would be few people around to question or stop her. All she had to do was hope no one in the know was watching the monitors.
She turned left and headed up the corridor. The elevators came quickly into view, the doors opening as she neared. She stepped inside and swiped her card, as she’d seen Gabriel do earlier. Then she pressed the button for sub-level three. For a moment, there was no reaction, and her breath caught. What if she’d been wrong about the pass? God, the last thing she wanted was more damn trouble landing on her shoulders.
Which undoubtedly was what she’d get by doing this. But, damn it, trouble brought about by searching for answers was worth it. It was the doing nothing that was driving her crazy.
Then the doors decided to shut, and the elevator moved up. She sighed in relief and watched the numbers zip by. At sub-level three, the elevator stopped and the doors opened. She peered out. The corridor was silent and quite dark. Obviously, no one had reported in to work yet, which had to be good news for her. Unless, of course, security noticed her presence and decided to do something about it.
She studied the ceiling, looking for monitors. One … two near the elevator, and at least one halfway down the hall. But if she kept to the walls, out of the light sensor range, maybe she’d escape notice long enough to get to the morgue and take a look at Jack’s corpse. If they hadn’t already processed him—though it would have to be something of a record if they had. Technology might have made everyone’s job simpler, but things still seemed to take the same amount of time, if not longer.
She walked along the corridor, keeping as close to the thick shadows crowding the wall as possible. Above her, the security cameras hummed as they
tracked her movement, but no lights came on and, more important, no alarm had sounded. She found the entrance to the morgue and swiped her card. The door clicked open. In the morgue’s outer rooms, bright light flared, making her eyes water.
Cursing softly, she quickly stepped inside and shut the door. “Lights dim,” she hissed. Instantly, the glare became a muted glow. She glanced around. Though she’d come down here only when absolutely necessary, that was still often enough to know the general layout of the place. Mark Righter, the medical examiner, had a desk in the far corner. More than likely he’d be handling Jack’s examination himself.
She rifled through the papers and files sitting on his desk, but Jack’s file wasn’t among them. Surely they couldn’t have finished the autopsy already? Frowning, she swung around and headed for the morgue. She didn’t have time to do a proper search for the file. Finley would notice she was missing soon. Before the alarm was raised, she had to get in and have a look at Jack—because she had a feeling Assistant Director Gabriel Stern would be canny enough to guess exactly where she’d gone.
The sickly strong scent of antiseptic punched her senses the moment she entered the room. Behind it, elusive and yet just as powerful, was the smell of death. She shuddered and quietly closed the door. The morgue was long and silent. Shadows crowded the far corners, despite the dim glow of the lights. Her gaze went to where the dead lay waiting, and after a moment’s hesitation, she walked across the room. The freezer units were categorized alphabetically. Jack’s was about halfway along the wall. She grabbed the handle, then stopped and took several deep breaths to calm her suddenly churning stomach.
She could do this. She had to do this, if she wanted to start finding answers.
Gripping the handle tightly, she pulled the drawer open. Jack’s body, cold and white, slid out to greet her. Her gaze went to what was left of his head, and her stomach rolled in revulsion. She let go of the drawer and backed away, desperately trying to control the urge to be sick. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen a dead body before, for Christ’s sake.
But this was the first time she’d seen anyone she’d cared about down here.
And absolutely the very first time that person was down here because she’d shot him.
For a reason, she reminded herself severely. She’d had no other choice, of that she was certain—even if she was certain of nothing else. And if she wanted to know why Jack had forced that choice, then she had better control her stomach and get back to examining the body.
Before AD Stern and his cronies came and dragged her away.
Taking another deep breath, she walked up to the drawer. And saw that death had frozen a look of disbelief on what remained of Jack’s face.
Oh God … no.
She staggered away and threw up in the nearest trash can.
“You okay?” The question rose out of the semidarkness, the voice familiar and filled with concern.
She groaned. Just what she needed. Gabriel had found her before she’d had a chance to overcome her nerves and look at Jack.
“I’m fine,” she muttered, digging into her pocket to grab a handkerchief and wipe her mouth.
“There’s a water fountain in the outer office. Would you like a drink?”
That had her looking up. He’d leave the room, leave her with the body? That went against every rule in the book … but then, Gabriel Stern didn’t seem to care much about the rules. Not when ignoring them suited him better. “Yes. Thank you.”
He nodded and turned around. She watched him walk back through the door, and then she pushed away from the desk and walked back over to Jack.
Trying to ignore the look on his face, trying to ignore her rebellious stomach, she studied the rest of his body. A naked Jack was nothing new to her. Men and women shared the same change rooms up in State, and once she’d recovered from the initial shock, she’d become as indifferent to it as everyone else.
Yet she could never remember Jack being this white. He’d always prided himself on his tan—and he’d never cared about how out of fashion it was deemed these days. Surely death hadn’t stolen all his color.
Gabriel came back through the door and crossed over to her. He handed her a cup and studied the naked form in front of them.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Sipping the water, she let her gaze slide down Jack’s body. His left hand rested on the flat of his stomach. His wedding ring was missing, which in itself was not unusual, given that the morgue staff would have secured any possessions before they placed him in the drawer. What was unusual was the fact that his finger showed no telltale mark of ever having worn a ring.
Her gaze moved down, and she frowned. Where the hell was the knife scar? He’d received the wound in their first year as partners and had worn it as a badge of valor ever since, refusing to have skin grafts. It made no sense for it to be gone now.
But before she could open her mouth to mention it, the lights in the outer office went off. And that wouldn’t have happened unless someone had ordered it. But why would someone from State, or even the SIU, have done such a thing when it was obvious someone was in the morgue?
Gabriel touched her arm in warning and pointed to the examination tables on the far side of the room. She nodded, slid Jack’s drawer back home and followed him. The morgue lights went out as she hunkered down beside Gabriel. Someone moved in the outer office, sliding drawers open and closed. Searching for what?
Minutes dragged by. She shifted, wondering why Gabriel didn’t do something. Whoever was in that office had to be up to no good if he’d turned the lights off, so why not call in the police? Hell, they were squatting in a building filled with them.
She shifted her weight again, then stopped as the morgue door eased open. Heat prickled across her skin, and once again her senses seemed to explode outward. The two men entering the room were vampires … and yet not.
The sensation slithered away. She shuddered, not understanding what was happening, not even understanding the information the weird attack had given her.
Gabriel’s hand touched her knee. Warmth and strength seemed to flow from it, fighting the chill suddenly encasing her body. She glanced up and saw the concern in his eyes. Fear suddenly slammed into her heart. She could see his eyes, see him, as clearly as if it were light, not pitch black. What the hell is happening to me? She had a sudden feeling that Finley’s tests, and Gabriel himself, might be able to provide an answer, but now was not the time to ask.
Biting her lip, she turned her gaze back to the two men entering the room. Dressed in black, they almost merged into the darkness. One of them carried something over his right shoulder—a sack of some kind. Both of them stopped just inside the doorway, their gazes scanning the darkened room. If they were vampires, how could they not see her and Gabriel? Or hear the beats of their hearts? How could these men not know they were here?
Because they obviously didn’t. They moved as one, walking silently across the room to Jack’s drawer. For some reason, she wasn’t entirely surprised. The weirdness had started with Jack. Somehow, he was the key to it all.
Gabriel squeezed her knee lightly and motioned to the left, holding up three fingers. She nodded. Placing her cup on the floor, she silently counted to three, rose and scooted around the edge of the room, coming on the two men from the left.
They were so intent on trying to bag Jack’s body that neither man became aware of their assailants until it was far too late.
“Police,” she said softly, grabbing the arm of one of the strangers and twisting it behind his back. “Don’t move.”
He was obviously hard of hearing, because he not only moved, but came out swinging. She ducked under his blow, and then hit him. Not exactly ethical, but hey, he was possibly a vampire, and she was already suspended.
He went down like a sack of potatoes. She frowned and glanced at her clenched fist. She hadn’t hit him that hard. She looked across to Gabriel. He had the second intruder
by the neck and was holding him slightly above the ground.
It took a lot of strength to do something like that—more strength than most humans possessed. But then, Gabriel Stern worked for the SIU. They weren’t big on employing normal humans.
“Remind me never to tackle you when you’re angry,” he said, his expression grim. But as he met her gaze, a slight hint of amusement touched his eyes.
This, coming from a man who appeared intent on choking his suspect to death? “Ah … hadn’t you better loosen your grip at little? Don’t want to kill him before he can answer a question or two.”
He glanced at the felon for a moment and shook him a little. The man made an odd sort of gagging sound and Gabriel smiled grimly. “He can breathe,” he said. “He’s just a little blue around the edges. Nothing to worry about with his type.”
“What do you mean by ‘his type’? Are they vampires?”
“No. Thralls.”
He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and made a call for backup. Given no chance to ask what a thrall was, she glanced down at the man near her feet and toed him lightly. Still out cold. She obviously packed quite a punch. He hadn’t even twitched.
“I guess I’ve landed myself in a shitload more trouble,” she said, once Gabriel had hung up.
He met her gaze, his eyes intense, thoughtful. Once again she was left with the distinct impression that Assistant Director Stern was a man with his own agenda.
“Maybe,” he said after a moment. His gaze went back to the felon. Not releasing his grip in any way, he asked, “You going to talk?”
The man gurgled.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He let the felon’s toes touch the floor. “I’m about to release my grip a little. Twitch and you’re dead, understand?”
Jack had nothing on Gabriel Stern when it came to menace, that was for sure. Though he’d kept his tone light, the threat hung like a noose in the air. She had no doubt that he meant it. Obviously, neither did the felon.