He supposed not. He let his gaze linger on her lips for several seconds, then said, "What was wrong with your grandmother's hands?"
"Arthritis. The visions make it worse."
"Then why doesn't she stop?"
She glanced at him, green eyes bright in the moonlight. "Can you stop the effects the moon has on you?"
"I can control it. Up to a point." Up until the night the moon bloomed full.
"Exactly."
"But she has a choice — "
"No, she doesn't. Neither of us do."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
She took a deep breath then puffed out her cheeks. "You'll see soon enough." She stopped the car. "We're here. There's a flashlight on the back seat."
He grabbed it then climbed out. The warehouse was at least six stories high and, like the warehouse in which they'd found the last kid, was fouled by vandals, time and the elements. His gut clenched. He didn't want to find what he'd find in there — be it Janie or the other missing kid.
Kat came around the car, her face pale as she studied the warehouse towering above them. He was half tempted to tell her to wait here, but he very much suspected she'd tell him exactly where he could shove such a suggestion. So he handed her the flashlight and said, "Keep behind me."
She didn't argue, which surprised him — especially after her stubbornness earlier. They pushed through a hole that had been cut into the chainlink fence and walked across concrete littered with weeds. The wind moaned through the window's broken glass, tin flapped. Somewhere a door creaked, creating a symphony of noise that very much belonged in some B-grade horror movie.
He pressed open the door and looked inside. Though the darkness was complete, he had no trouble seeing. The moon sharpened all his senses, and his sight was wolf-keen. There was no one here.
But the metallic smell of blood hung on the air, mingled with the aroma of rotting flesh. He had to go on, had to see, but there was no reason for Kat to do either. "Why don't you go call — "
"Don't even think it." Her voice was terse. "You want the cops called, then you go do it. Right now, I have to go up those stairs."
She pushed past him, the flashlight's bright beam dancing across the graffitistrewn walls as she crossed the empty expanse. He caught her at the stairs.
"Damn it, woman, there's something dead up there."
Her gaze met his, her eyes wide and haunted. "Believe me, I know."
She began to climb. He shook his head and stayed beside her. The smell was worse on the first floor landing — sharper, fresher, and ripened by the aroma of urine and excrement. He tried breathing through his mouth, but there was no avoiding the foulness of the place. She swung left and he followed. Moonlight filtered in through the broken windows, highlighting the bottles and syringes and shit lining the base of the walls. If this warehouse was some kind of refuge, where the hell were the dregs of humanity who lived in it?
When they entered the small room at the end of the hall, they found the kid. Not that anyone would have guessed the bits strewn over the floor had ever been a child. His stomach rose, and it took every ounce of willpower not to lose it right then and there.
There was bad, and then there was bad.
This was worse than either of those.
Kat made an odd sound in the back of her throat, and he quickly looked at her. She had a hand against her mouth and was shaking so hard her teeth chattered. She wasn't looking at the remains that lay scattered around them, but was staring off into space. Her eyes were wide-open and filled with such horror and pain it tore at something deep inside him. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but he was sure of one thing. She couldn't stay in this room.
He swept her up into his arms and raced back down the stairs. She didn't protest, didn't say anything at all, her eyes wide and glassy. Sweat sheened her skin, but her flesh was so cold he might have been holding ice.
Once outside, he set her down on a pile of bricks and thrust her head between her knees. "Breathe deep."
She obeyed. After a few minutes the trembling eased, but moisture began to splash the concrete underneath her. He thrust his hands in his pockets and waited. He didn't know what else to do.
She sniffed, then wiped a hand across her eyes as she sat up. "It wasn't — "
"No," he agreed softly. "It wasn't." But it was still a kid up there, a kid who didn't deserve to die the way he had. "I have to go back up." Had to check what he thought he'd seen.
She nodded. "I'll wait here. I don't need to feel anything else right now."