cubicles with their desks in the same setup, the chairs where they had always been, the wastepaper baskets down on the floor.
But all the computers were gone.
“My pictures are in a drawer here,” she said as she went over to her assigned area. “Is it okay to take them?”
“Sure.”
She put her backpack down. Unzipped it. Took the photographs out. She found it impossible to look too closely at the images of her with Gerry. The fact that they were all from their uni days had never struck her as significant—until now.
No pictures of them together after they’d moved to Ithaca.
“So how’d you like to tell me about Sunday here.” Manfred hopped up on one of the bare desks. “And be creative, why don’t you. I like a challenge.”
Sarah frowned and looked over her shoulder at the man. It was hard to read his expression, but professional implacability was no doubt part of his training. And yet …
He didn’t know about the raid, did he. Somehow, the vampires had in fact managed to disappear all evidence of the infiltration and extraction—including Sarah’s role in it.
“All I did was check on some work and the order of a new microscope. That’s it.” As Manfred looked away, there was a hint of frustration on his face. “You said Kraiten shut the company down? What do you mean, exactly?”
“He dissolved it. Legally, RSK BioMed no longer exists.”
“What about all the patents? The research? The people who worked here?”
“Let’s refocus. After you finished your work, how did you get home if you left your car in the lot?”
“Look, you already know I didn’t kill Kraiten, right. He was one of the most paranoid people on the planet. Do not tell me you don’t have security feed of how he died.”
“As a matter of fact, we do. But what I’m wondering about right now is why you think you’re a suspect.”
She thought long and hard about what to say. “I’m going to be honest with you.”
“Great way to start. I commend you.”
She took a deep breath. “I think Robert Kraiten murdered my fiancé two years ago. And I think he killed Gerry’s boss, too, but I don’t know why exactly on either account. Gerry was very private about his work. He didn’t talk to me about what he was doing, ever. I have no idea what the Infectious Disease division was working on or why Gerry would be a threat to Kraiten or this business. But I know that Gerry had managed his diabetes well, and I don’t believe for a second that he died of natural causes.”
Manfred’s eyes narrowed. “Why were you really here Sunday night?”
“I told you. I was just checking up on a couple of my protocols. I’ve been working on tumor markers in renal cell carcinoma. Sometimes I can’t turn my brain off for a whole two days.”
“When did you leave?”
“Around eleven. My car didn’t start in the cold.”
“So who’d you catch a ride with?”
Sarah paused. “Kraiten. I rode home with Kraiten.”
After night fell over Caldwell, John Matthew did cartwheels down the grand staircase of the Brotherhood mansion. Like, literally. Hand hand, down—feet in the air. Land, shitkicker shitkicker. Hands in the air. Land, hand hand. Feet in the air. On the red carpeted steps.
He was doing very well, calibrating the stairs perfectly, balancing like a boss—except then he slipped up and bowling-ball’d it, banging and crashing all the way to the bottom. Whereupon he sprawled on the mosaic floor like a crash-test dummy.
Laughing his ass off.
Silently, but still.
Tohr’s face entered his field of vision from above, blocking the lofty painted ceiling of fighters on warhorses. “You okay there, big guy?”
John shoved two thumbs up so high that the Brother had to jerk out of range or get his nose plugged.
Then again, John had made love to his shellan for about seven hours straight—Xhex was still in bed, sleeping the marathon session off—and he’d followed that with a tray brought up from the kitchen by Fritz himself.
Four cheeseburgers. Double set of homemade fries. A gallon of organic milk.
And three frozen Hershey chocolate bars. The one-pounder size.
John leaped up, landing solidly on his shitkickers. Pulling his dagger holsters back into place, he saluted Tohr and then stomped his foot.
Tohr smiled. Pulled him in for a quick, hard hug. Pushed him back. “Okay, okay. I heard from Doc Jane that you’re cleared to fight, so yes, you can go out into the field.” As John pumped a fist, the Brother frowned. “Actually, why don’t