There is no such thing as impossible, there is only a place where that possibility is not yet available.
~ Dr. M. Vensula, head of the National Center for Time Fluctuation Studies I4- 2070
Monday July 1, 2069
Alabama District 3
Commonwealth of North America
The phone rang, another interruption during an already-busy day. Sam picked it up. “Agent—”
“If someone doesn’t have a clone marker, are they clone or human?” Mac asked without wasting any breath.
“Is this an existential question?”
“No. What is the legal designation?”
“Human. Without a clone marker, there is no way to prove someone is a clone. The marker stabilizes an adult clone, and all clones predating the marker law will have their genes on the Verville list,” Sam said, reciting the legal definition from memory.
“Neither Jane or Melody Doe has Verville traces of any kind. The full report just arrived. I thought the original test of Jane missed something, but Birmingham retested, and there is nothing that matches the Verville list. Legally, both Jane and Melody Doe are human.”
“What . . .” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes went wide. “Holy Mary.”
“We have a serial killer. Officially. One we can take to Marrins.”
“No. No, we still have only two deaths.”
“Three.”
“Another Jane Doe?”
“John Doe. When the body was found just before I moved here, they weren’t able to identify him in the system. John was listed as an illegal immigrant and buried three plots down from Melody Doe. He’s a perfect match for Matthew Vensula, a biology student who finished his internship at N-V Nova Labs before going missing. He was last seen at the lab talking with Dr. Emir. He has the same fracture pattern and was found in the same field. Same dump site. Same weapon.”
“Same doctor.” Sam slammed her fist on the desk. “I’m really starting to hate that man. Emir is linked to all these Matthew, Melody, and Mordicai.”
“Dr. Emir is listed as the last person to see both Melody Chimes and Mordicai Robbins alive, in case you were wondering.”
“Naturally. Maybe he really hates people whose names start with M.” A shiver of apprehension ran up her spine. “Just so we’re clear, I never want to be left alone with Dr. Emir.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it unless we use the M theory, then I’m the one at risk.”
Sam looked at the district tax records on her screen. “Problem: he has no motive. People don’t haul off and murder their interns and security guards for no reason.”
“Maybe they saw something they shouldn’t have.”
“Like what?”
“Like the clone of a bureau agent? I don’t know, but get me to that lab, and maybe I can find out.”
“You know I can’t tie Jane to the case without bringing up questions I won’t answer. For that matter, I can’t bring up Melody Doe. The official word from the Chimes’s lawyers is that Melody is touring France with her new boyfriend. That leaves us one body.”
“If Marrins brings it up, you can say Jane and Melody Doe were possibly cloned in an identity-theft scam. The Melody clone worked: Melody Chimes was killed and replaced by her clone, who fled the scene of a crime when the lab was attacked because she was scared she would be caught. You were the next victim, possibly because of your ties to the bureau but more likely because you come from the same wealthy background as Melody. Your clone overcooked, and they sold it to a fetish shop before dumping it.”
“That’s going to be a hard sell.”
“Tell Marrins we might catch a clone ring in the act of cloning a bureau agent. Not that it matters, without the clone marker and Verville traces, all three of the Does are legally human, but you know how Marrins thinks.”
She sighed in resignation. “Fine, the logic is still spotty but I’ll take it to Marrins and get a warrant. When I get to the lab, what am I looking for?”
“Blood? A signed confession? Emir to have a nervous breakdown when you show him the warrant? I don’t know, what do you want?”
“Mac,” Sam said in a dry tone, “I meant, what should I look for as a possible weapon?”
“Um . . .”
“Don’t say ‘um.’ ”
“No sharp edges. Nothing that flakes. I almost want to say something soft.”
“Soft?”
“Have you ever seen a body hit by a sonic blast?”
“I’ve never had the opportunity.”
“Sound waves can shatter a body. It reminds me of that, but the blast isn’t hitting the organs and liquefying them, it’s striking the bones. The fractures radiate out from the point of impact like ripples. Whatever it is, don’t look for a conventional weapon. It will look benign.”
Sam rubbed her temples. “That’s going to be fun to look for, but I’ll try to find something.”
“It would help if I could come.”
“No it wouldn’t—you’re not field trained. Some days, I don’t even think you’re housebroken.”
“It would satisfy my curiosity.”
“Mmm, that I believe.” She started pulling files up on her computer. “Do you think you could tie Robbins to this at all?”
“Probably not. I can look over the autopsy again, but he was killed by a bullet to the throat. He choked to death on his own blood.”
“Lovely.” She rubbed her own throat in sympathy.
“Premeditated, execution style. Marrins was right about that, I looked it up, and it’s a common method of dispatching gang members who turn traitor in some areas of the country. Serial killers don’t get creative with their killing styles. They find something they’re comfortable with, and they use it again and again.”
“I’d still like to talk to Melody Chimes, or whoever is using her name, and get her account. Marrins won’t give me the recording, though.”
“Is it in the database?”
She blinked, gaze falling down on the morgue windows in the building below. “MacKenzie, that’s a loaded question. Marrins is the only one in this office with authorization to access those files. As the lead agent on this case, I can’t authorize you to break the law or go against a direct order from our senior agent.”
“I wasn’t asking you to authorize any such thing.”
She thought she saw a flash of white lab coat in Mac’s window as he swiveled in his chair. “Let’s not give Marrins an excuse to fire us both. Okay?”
“Do you need the recording?”
She only hesitated for a moment. “Yes.”
“See you at dinner.”
It took her an hour to write up the report for Marrins. The senior agent was resting at his desk when she knocked. “What can I do you for, Rose?”
“Sir, hypothetically, if I had three individuals all killed by the same weapon and dumped in the same area, would we classify it as the work of a serial killer?”
“Not if they’re clones.”
“No clone markers, sir.”
Marrins raised bushy white eyebrows. “Sounds like a good working hypothesis. What’d you find?”
“When we dug up that mass grave—”
“Waste of time.” Marrins sneered.
“I know, sir, but you did order me to identify everyone before we reburied them.”
“That grave’s made us the busiest district in the state for the past month,” he grumbled. “Even with Hurricane Jessica. I’ve never filed so much paperwork in my life!”
Ignoring him, she pressed on. “Three of them died under unresolved circumstances. All of them unidentified victims. All killed with the same weapon. All dumped in the same field. All close to the same age.”
Marrins pulled the file closer with a frown. She’d left just the autopsies and the Doe names, he didn’t need the faces or links. “Go on.”
“We have a positive ID on the John Doe: he was a biology student who worked as an intern at N-V Nova Labs. He’s been missing for almost three years.”
“Emir,” Marrins breathed.
“Yes, sir. He was the last person to see Mr. Vensula alive.”
Marrins drummed his fingers on the desktop. “Emir. He’s been yanking my chain way too hard this past while. I think it would be good to put the fear of the bureau back into him.”
“Agreed, sir. Will you request the warrant, so I can search the labs?”
Marrins grinned like a shark. “I will indeed.”
“I’d like to take the coroner with me, sir,” Sam said. It was a gamble, but she needed Marrins on her side.
“Our bureau one?”
“No, sir, Coroner Harley. He handled the original John Doe case, and he has more experience than anyone else at our disposal. I’d like to request the city loan him to my case for the duration of the investigation. If he can come with me to the lab, he might be able to tell me what caused the fracturing that killed our Does.”
“Assuming they were all killed there.”
“I’ll admit it’s a stretch, sir. We can definitely tie one body to the lab. I’m running a computer search now to see if we can tie the other two to the lab as well. If I can get positive ID matches to the bodies from former lab employees . . .” She spread her hands. “It would be a nearly perfect case.”
Marrins nodded. “You’ll have the warrant, but you’re taking our morgue freak.”
Guess you don’t think he’s a murderer anymore, do you?
“Sir?”
“This is not the city’s case, Agent Rose. I don’t want Harley near this.”
“Yes, sir.” She hid her smile until she was safely back in her office.
A late-evening breeze rustled the oak leaves and stirred night-blooming jasmine in the yard. The lazy ceiling fan creaked but did little else to alleviate the muggy heat of the evening. As the air-conditioning kicked in, moving the drapes, the temperature moved from sauna hot to sultry warm. It was a night made for tangos, swimming naked, or kissing someone under the stars.
She didn’t miss anyone in particular, Sam told herself as she put away the last of the clean dishes. It was the idea that she craved. Right now, she wanted someone to hold her, to sweep her around the room, to kiss her senseless. Her brain was in overdrive worrying about what would happen in the morning. Would Emir run? Confess? Pull some crazy proof she was a clone out of his data file?
I just want something to happen, something wonderful for once, before the world is crazy again.
Hoss looked up a second before the back door swung open. Sam was already reaching for the butcher knife.
“Hi! Oh.” MacKenzie held both hands up. “Sorry. Were you expecting trouble?”
She stepped away from the knife. “I’m on edge.”
“I see that.” He petted Hoss’s giant head. “Did you get the warrant?”
“We’ll have it by morning. Marrins assigned you to the case.”
His eyebrows went up. “How did you swing that?”
“I asked for Harley. The senior agent delights in giving me what I don’t want.”
“Strange man.” He pulled an efile from his back pocket. “I brought you a present.” Sam held out her hand, and he held the efile up a little higher. Mac leaned close and whispered, “What do I get in return?”
“Dinner.”
“Ooo, you wicked temptress you.” Mac winked and laughed. Sam snorted and snatched the efile as he walked to the oven. “What am I eating?”
“Does it matter? You’ll eat anything that holds still two times out of three.”
“That doesn’t mean it will taste good.”
“Cajun chicken sandwiches.” She slid the efile into her phone to play. “What did you bring me?”
“Audio of Melody Chimes pulled from her university record, her Wannervan Security record, and from the phone call from Paris to New York where her parents met with their lawyers and bureau agent Citavia.” He made himself a plate and sat at the table opposite Sam. “Go ahead and listen.”
She hit PLAY.
“Hi, I’m Melody Chimes,” said a cheerful voice that was young but already turning smoky. There were good genes there and just a hint of Dulcet Chimes-Martin’s upper-class accent. “I’m jixed as a pickle to be a student at Auburn. War Eagle!”
Sam bit her lip. “I want her to be in Paris.”
The recording switched files. “My name is Melody Chimes, civilian registration number 78A-56-9A2B. My height is sixty-eight inches, my weight is 123 pounds. I am African-descent American, brown hair, brown eyes.” On the audio, Melody Chimes sighed, and said away from the recorder, “Brown is so dull.”
Mac didn’t make eye contact.
Again, the recording switched. “Mum! How are you? I’m soooooo sorry I haven’t called,” a syrupy thick voice gushed. There was no hint of smoke. The accent was thick, but false. “I love Par-ee! I just had to come with a friend. You understand.”
Sam put her sandwich down as a man’s voice asked where she was, if she was alone and safe.
“I’m with friends,” the possible Melody said. “Quite happy. Perfectly happy. Everything is wonderful. I’ll call you soon. Loves!”
She shut the recorder off. “That wasn’t Melody Chimes.”
“The recording is scratchy, bad for a trans-Atlantic call. Just listening once I caught what you did. I ran it through a voice-data match and”—he shook his head—“there’s just no way.”
“Her family believed this was Melody?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Their baby girl is missing. They’d rather believe that’s Melody, than admit she’s dead. People are like that when they grieve. They’ll grasp at straws. Carry headless bodies miles on end because they think something can be done. With a bureau agent sitting there, it must have seemed possible.”
“Why would Marrins lie?”
“Why does Marrins do anything?”
Crossing her arms, Sam sat back in her chair. “I don’t like this.”
“Mmm.” Mac finished his sandwich. “You have a gun?”
“The bureau issued a splat gun we have for emergencies. Why?”
“You need to start keeping it on you. Call it a hunch, but I think things are going to get worse before they get better.”