Penumbra

  “Seems your people missed this,” he commented, without glancing at Marsdan.

  “The open window was noted, but we are duty bound to assume human intervention first. Our searches are for more conventional clues and entry points.” He hesitated, expression annoyed. “We called you as soon as the other options were eliminated.”

  Gabriel squatted and looked behind the bowl. “I would have thought the fact that she was torn apart precluded human involvement.”

  “She was ripped apart?” Illie said, surprise evident in his voice.

  “Yeah.”

  “There are not many folks in the paranormal community who have the strength to do that,” Illie said. “I mean, bear changers would, but a bear changer couldn’t get through that window.”

  “Nor could any of the big cat changers, though they certainly could tear someone apart. But there would also be tooth marks, and I presume our good captain would have mentioned it if something like that was evident.”

  “He would,” Marsdan confirmed. “It wasn’t teeth, but the separation also wasn’t clean enough to suggest a blade.”

  Gabriel shifted to get a better view of the S-bend area and saw something odd—a feather. A black feather. He frowned. Sam had mentioned that the man in her dreams was a crow shifter—coincidence? He tended to think not.

  “Though of course,” Marsdan said, “the coroner still has to make her report.”

  “I found something.” Gabriel leaned a shoulder against the wall and said, “Crimecorder, record image and location of feather for evidence.”

  The black sphere responded immediately, zipping into the room to hover inches from his head. “Image recorded,” a metallic voice stated.

  “Resume original position.”

  Gabriel put on a glove, then reached in and grabbed the dark feather. “It would appear our murderer is a crow.”

  “A crow shifter wouldn’t have the strength to tear someone apart.”

  “This one obviously did—unless Douglass herself is a changer.”

  “She’s not listed as one.” Illie frowned as he handed Gabriel an evidence bag. “A crow is a fairly large bird. Would it even be able to get through a gap like that?”

  “Obviously, since that feather is inside rather than out. Crows don’t exactly make great pets, so why else would the feather be here? Besides, there’s blood on some of the quills. Could be an indication that he or she injured themselves coming in.”

  “Or going out.”

  Gabriel nodded. “Are any of Douglass’s known associates shapechangers?”

  “Not that I’ve discovered.” Illie hesitated as Marsdan’s phone buzzed. He gave them an apologetic look and stepped away. Illie continued. “I requested a computer search through Pegasus’s employee files. So far, there are several shifters listed, but none are crows.” He paused, eyeing Gabriel critically. “You’re not expecting a result, are you?”

  Gabriel rose. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because this attack came a little too soon after the attack on us. I think someone is either covering his tracks or sending a warning. Maybe even both.”

  Illie raised his eyebrows. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

  Gabriel told him about the message on the wall. “Penumbra is an old military project whose records were all destroyed in a fire. Given Pegasus’s military links, it’s possible that Douglass knew something about the project.” Especially given her request that he and his partner investigate a break-in and her obvious disappointment—or concern—that the partner he’d turned up with was male. They’d wanted Sam there. Wanted her to do those tests. Douglass might have known why, but her death certainly ensured they’d never be able to ask her.

  It was just too damn convenient.

  And yet, if the military had killed her to prevent her from talking, why would they leave a message about Penumbra? That just didn’t make sense.

  But if not the military, then who?

  Sethanon? But what reason would he have to kill Douglass and stop the military from revisiting an old project?

  Though if he did know of Sam’s history, maybe he was still trying to protect her. But why would a man who possessed a ruthless and bloody determination to start a war want to protect someone like Sam? If he planned to use her abilities for his side, why wouldn’t he have snatched her long before she’d come to the notice of the SIU or the military?

  What was the damn connection between the two of them?

  No one knew, not even Sam. Though given what she’d admitted this afternoon—that she was in telepathic contact with a man she recently met—maybe she wasn’t being as truthful as he’d presumed.

  And that made it more important than ever that he keep an eye on her. If Sethanon was looking out for her, then maybe his brother was right after all. Maybe she would lead them to the one criminal they’d never been able to see, let alone catch.

  “So you think the military was behind the murder?” Illie asked, his voice holding a hint of skepticism.

  “No, actually, I don’t.” Gabriel glanced past Illie as Marsdan walked toward them. “Yes?”

  “Seeing as you SIU boys are taking over this one, I thought you might like to handle this. We’ve two military men outside who want to come in and view the scene.”

  “Talk about timing,” Illie muttered.

  “Let them up, Captain. I’ll talk to them.”

  “And the first question that has to be asked,” Illie commented, as they followed Marsdan back into the living room, “is how they found out about the murder so quickly. Hell, the press aren’t even here yet.”

  “Maybe they were coming to see Douglass anyway. Why don’t you see if you can find an appointment book?”

  Illie’s wry grin flashed. “In other words, ‘Get lost while I interview the military men.’ ”

  Amusement ran through Gabriel. “Basically, yes.”

  “All you had to do was ask, Boss.” And he walked away.

  Gabriel shoved his hands into his pockets and waited for the two men. He had every intention of taking them into the bedroom to view the murder scene and watch their reaction, but first he wanted to assess them.

  Within a few minutes, the apartment’s front door was opened and a police officer escorted the two men in. The first was about six feet tall and broad shouldered, with a shock of silver hair that was accentuated by the dark brown of his suit. His face was flat, hard, and the red of a barely healed wound marred its left side. The second man was shorter by several inches, yet had a more powerful presence. Gabriel recognized him instantly, even though he’d seen him only once, on Sam’s com-screen. General Frank Lloyd from the Hopeworth Military Base. Was he here by coincidence? Gabriel suspected the answer was no.

  The CSM spun around to record the two men walking in. “ID, please.”

  “General Frank Lloyd, from Hopeworth Military Base.”

  “General Michael Blaine, also from Hopeworth.”

  Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Even with Pegasus’s close military ties, surely it’s overkill to send two generals to investigate.”

  “No more than the SIU sending an assistant director,” Lloyd said and held out his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met officially.”

  “No, General, we haven’t.” Gabriel shook the man’s hand. Power rose when their flesh touched, an electricity that felt oddly disturbing. “And since you specifically asked for me and my partner to investigate the Pegasus break-in, it should come as no surprise that we’re now investigating the murder of the person who ran that facility.”

  “I guess not.” Lloyd paused. “While General Blaine here also works at Hopeworth, it’s not in the same capacity. His area of expertise meant he was in contact with Douglass more than I was.”

  Gabriel’s gaze switched to the silver-haired man. “How much contact?”

  Blaine’s expression was polite, almost disinterested, and yet there was something in the man’s gray eyes that had Gabriel’s hackles r
ising. He was facing an enemy, even if they’d only just met.

  “Not socially, if that’s what you’re implying. We were merely business acquaintances.”

  “Have you talked to her in the past few days?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did she appear distracted? Concerned by anything?”

  “Not that I was aware of.”

  “Not even by the break-in?”

  Blaine smiled. “Aside from that, no.”

  Gabriel switched his gaze back to Lloyd. Of the two, he seemed the more approachable—which in itself had alarms ringing simply because the general had been of very little help in the past. Except, of course, when it suited him.

  “Why are you here, General? This murder hasn’t even hit the headlines yet, so how did you hear about it?”

  “All of those scientists and team heads involved with military projects at Pegasus have emergency call buttons installed in their homes. As the director of the company, Douglass also had one. It was pressed at two forty.”

  Ten minutes after she’d arrived home. Thirty-five minutes before the neighbor heard the screams and called the police. Given what Marsdan had said about the state of the bed, did that mean Douglass pressed the buzzer and then seduced her attacker? Or were the seducer and the attacker two entirely different people?

  “If Douglass pressed the emergency call button at two forty, why are you only responding now?”

  “Hopeworth is a long way from St. Kilda.”

  “Not by helicopter.” And there were military offices in the city itself. Why couldn’t they have dispatched military police from one of them to investigate?

  “Helicopters are not allowed to land around here, and, given the sensitivity of Pegasus’s links with Hopeworth, we prefer to send out our own personnel.” Lloyd studied him for a moment, blue eyes assessing. “Why do you suspect us of wrongdoing?”

  “I’m an SIU agent and predisposed to be suspicious of everything and everyone. Especially those who have a vested interest in keeping their secrets.”

  Lloyd’s smile was cold. “The military did not silence Kathryn Douglass, I can assure you.”

  Oddly enough, Gabriel believed him. “Where is the call button?”

  “In the bedroom, beside the right bedside table.”

  “The police found her dead in her bedroom at three twenty-one.”

  “Meaning the murderer savored his time with her?” Blaine asked.

  Gabriel glanced at him. There was an odd hint of amusement in the general’s voice that rankled. “Given Douglass’s body was torn apart, I doubt the murderer savored her death too much.”

  Blaine raised an eyebrow. “There are some in this world who get off on such things.”

  And the general was one of them. Why he was so sure, Gabriel couldn’t say. Perhaps it was just the hint of hunger in the general’s otherwise flat gaze.

  “The police believe Douglass and her murderer had intercourse before she was murdered. They’re testing for DNA.”

  “So it could be nothing more than rough lovemaking gone extremely wrong?” Blaine asked.

  “I seriously doubt it.”

  Blaine’s smile was unexpectedly ferocious. “Oh, so do I.”

  Which was an odd thing to say when he hadn’t yet viewed the room in which she’d been murdered.

  “May we see the scene?” Lloyd asked.

  “This way.” Gabriel led them into the bedroom and stepped to one side so he could see their reactions. Neither man gave much away, but the tiny hint of amusement touching Blaine’s mouth was disturbing, to say the least.

  “What do you make of the message, General Lloyd? How is Kathryn Douglass connected to Penumbra?”

  “She’s not.” Lloyd’s voice was flat. “As you are well aware, Penumbra is not an active project, but one that was shut down years ago.”

  “Forcibly shut down by fire,” Gabriel amended.

  Lloyd’s gaze flickered toward him. “Yes.”

  “But if the project was destroyed and Kathryn Douglass had no involvement, why would the murderer leave this particular message?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t know, or won’t tell?”

  Lloyd’s smile was flat. “I cannot withhold something I do not know.”

  Again, Gabriel believed him. “Were there any other survivors from the project that you haven’t mentioned already?” He didn’t have much hope of getting a direct answer, but the question had to be asked.

  “Only the peripheral project support,” Blaine said. “People like nurses, teachers, trainers, et cetera.”

  “And they have all been assigned elsewhere?”

  “Many have retired or died,” Blaine said, and there was something very cold in his eyes as he said it. “That project occurred a long time ago, and it has not been reopened or repeated since.”

  “And yet, evidence of it keeps appearing.”

  “Not through military means, I assure you,” Lloyd said. He glanced at Blaine. “Though we should do a check of the surviving personnel. See if any had recent contact with Douglass.”

  “They haven’t. I would have been informed,” Blaine said.

  Gabriel frowned. Again, there was something very strange in the way Blaine said that. “But if there has been contact?”

  “We shall investigate and let you know the results.” Lloyd held out his hand. “Thank you for your assistance, AD Stern.”

  Gabriel shook his hand and again felt that tingle of power. But if the general was trying to read him, then it wasn’t through telepathic means. He would have felt any attempt to read his thoughts.

  Blaine didn’t offer his hand, but just gave him a curt nod before following Lloyd from the room.

  Gabriel watched them leave, unable to shake the feeling that Blaine knew him. Knew him and hated him.

  Which meant that, somewhere in the past, their paths had crossed, even if he couldn’t remember it. He needed information on the man, and he needed it fast.

  He glanced around as Illie came into the room. “Do a full search on General Blaine. I need to see whatever you can find.”

  In the meantime, he’d contact his family and see if anyone had any memory of the man. Then he’d head to Federation headquarters and see if there were any files on him. Once all that had been done, he’d contact Sam. She needed to know that once again the Penumbra project had raised its head.

  —

  Sam repressed a yawn and wished, for the umpteenth time, that Wetherton would just shut up and go home. Night watch always took several days—or rather, nights—to get used to, and she was tired as hell.

  Right now, it was two in the morning and they were in a nightclub situated right in the heart of the King Street club scene. The place was packed with wildly gyrating teenagers and adults, and the music was so damn loud her body vibrated with it. The air was filled with an array of perfumes, the source of which was both male and female. When combined with the odor of sweating bodies, the result was stomach-churning.

  The one thing the place didn’t have was someone watching her. She’d spotted the man Gabriel had following her several times and had finally phoned Stephan about it. The big man had disappeared very quickly after that. As much as his presence had offered her some comfort, she’d meant what she said to Gabriel. She wanted this done, and if that meant Hopeworth snatching her, then so be it. She needed answers, because if there was one thing she was certain about, it was that she had to find her past before she could gain a future. Besides, she’d be damned if she’d allow someone to risk his life to protect hers. Especially when that someone was the husband of a woman she liked.

  She stood in a corner opposite Wetherton’s table and idly rubbed her arm. For some reason it had started aching a few hours ago, and although the pain was now easing, it still niggled. It was the sort of pain that came with a decent skin laceration, although she hadn’t cut herself in any way, shape or form. It was just another piece of weird in a gathering pile of them. She look
ed around the room again. She was currently squashed between a pole and the wall, trying not to breathe too deeply. While uncomfortable, the position allowed her to watch both Wetherton and anyone who approached his table. Not that anyone had for the last four hours. She sipped on a juice and wished it were coffee. She had a feeling she was going to hit a wall soon, and at least the caffeine would have helped fend that moment off a little longer. But the bar didn’t serve the hot stuff. And as much as she wouldn’t have minded a mixer with the juice, her exhaustion and the fact that she hadn’t eaten much today meant it would more than likely go straight to her head.

  Not a good thing when she was supposed to be protecting the minister.

  Although that was most definitely not the only reason she was here. She glanced at the other man at the table. Wetherton’s meet was a tall, thin man who didn’t appear to be another politician. His brown suit was rumpled, his face haggard and unshaven, and there was nothing polished or practiced about the way he spoke. On first sighting him, she’d thought he was a reporter. But after watching him for the last four hours, she’d revised that to criminal. There was something very guarded about the way his gaze continually roamed the room.

  There was also something oddly familiar about him, though she’d swear she’d never met or seen him before. It wasn’t even so much his looks as his feel.

  If that made any sense.

  She’d managed to grab a couple of shots of him with her wristcom and had sent them to Izzy, asking for a full search to be done. She figured the name he’d given her—Chip Braggart—was just a little too weird to be true. And she couldn’t remember seeing him listed among Wetherton’s known associates. Even as tired as she was, it was doubtful she’d forget a name like that.