11

I would pay a lot to know what Andrea Devereaux, special agent, Behavioral Sciences Investigative, was thinking as she watched me flip through the pages of the dog-eared file. I tried my best to be nonchalant, as if I expected and understood everything that was between its manila covers, while secretly memorizing every line. I checked and re-checked names and dates, trying to fix the timeline in my own mind, lining up my whereabouts for each. I would have liked a few hours alone with the file, but instead I settled for a few minutes.

I closed it up and offered it to her. “It all fits. Definitely a wendigo pack.”

“And they’re all dead?” I couldn’t tell if she was eyeing me with suspicion or if it was residual fear of the things that go bump, growl, and bite in the night.

I had been right on one thing: I hadn’t heard about the other three killings, because despite the same M.O., the victims weren’t Valente employees, ergo, no company interest. I had been wrong, however, about the direction and timing of the Joplin and Saint Louis killings. I was theorizing without facts; now I had facts, no matter how much I disliked them. I lied to her. “Three, bagged and tagged.”

“How is it a lie? We killed three.”

“It’s a lie in that it makes no mention of a fourth.”

I watched her to see if she would buy it. She seemed to. Maybe she didn’t, but it was well past two in the morning and all of her novel experience circuits had been overloaded in the last few hours, so she nodded. “Good. Not a lot I can use, but it’s good to know, I suppose.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself. It’s nice to know how far down the rabbit hole goes, even if what lives at the end of it scares the bejeezus out of me.” I tried to sound friendly, while secretly wishing she’d decide it was time to leave and never come back.

She yawned. “I should probably call it a night.” She paused. “Look, Colin, if you ever need anything…y’know, stuff like this.” Her silence was longer this time, her voice nearly inaudible when she finished, “Or help getting away from Valente, just let me know.”

I nodded sagaciously, but said nothing. She favored me with one last smile, which drove home the reminder of just how much she looked like long-lost Sarai, then turned and reached for the door knob. I hoped she stayed the hell away from me, but not because I disliked her. I was starting to take a shine to her and the world always need more people like Sarai. But I was absolutely certain being around me was a really good way to die.

Before going to bed, I walked downstairs to use the payphone in the parking lot. I left a detailed message with Duchess of what I needed, then trudged back upstairs. My hand never left the grip of my chaos blade, but if there were any assassins waiting in the wings, no one tried anything. I crashed into a deep sleep, where my thoughts roamed through ancient forests full of trolls struggling for their next breath.