Seventeen minutes after she'd been murdered.
Chapter Five
The killer was a multishifter, Sam thought, staring at the woman on the screen. The counterfeit doctor wore a knee-length white coat and carried a plastic bag in her right hand. She kept her head down, loose brown hair all but covering her face, and headed quickly for the stairs.
"Rewind tape one minute then freeze," she said, and glanced up as Gabriel walked into the room. "I think I've found your killer."
He handed her two painkillers and a glass of water, then leaned over the back of her chair and studied the image frozen on the com-screen.
"A shapeshifter."
"A multishifter," she corrected. "Not that it comes as much of a surprise. You said in your report you suspected a shifter was involved."
He squatted down beside her chair, face almost level with hers. "We suspected, but this is the first evidence we've found to confirm it."
She frowned. "You found nothing on any of the other tapes?"
"No." His breath washed warmth across her face. "No evidence of anyone going in. The only form of exit appears to be the small hole cut into the bathroom windows."
"But that makes no sense." If the killer was a multishifter, how the hell was she getting away from the crime scene, if not through any doors? A small hole cut in a window pointed towards a shapechanger, not a shifter.
He scrubbed a hand across the dark line of stubble on his chin. "Did anyone enter the office close to the time of the murder?"
"Postman, but he came out at twelve twenty-two. I've begun an ID search."
"Good. Have you checked the tapes for the seventh floor?"
"Not yet."
He looked at the screen. "Display tape seven. Fast forward to twelve forty-eight p.m."
The screen briefly went blank. Gabriel went against current trends, having no cartoon character as the face of his com-units. No time for fun, she thought, even for something as minor as this.
The seventh floor tape began to role. The counterfeit doctor came into sight, quickly disappearing into the ladies restroom. She was out four minutes later, hair wet, but tied back off her face, and still wearing the white coat. The elevator answered her call almost immediately. The doctor joined several other people already standing in the lift and was whisked away.
"Why keep the coat?" She met his gaze. "Why not dump it with the sweater?"
"Maybe she had nothing else to wear."
"But why not? This woman is meticulous. She gets in and out of crime scenes without being spotted — at least not until now. She knows there's security cam's watching and she knows how to get around them. Her timing with the doctor was perfect. So why wouldn't she pack a change of clothes?"
A smile touched his lips. "There's a limit to what you can hide when you shift form, you know."
She raised her eyebrows. "There is?"
He nodded. "Clothes don't change. Nor do watches, or shoes or bloodstained sweaters. The body image is all that shifts."
"But what about shapechangers? You grow feathers and talons, for Christ's sake. I've never seen you wearing size ten boots in your hawk form."
His smile widened, touching the corners of his eyes. "Nor will you. The rules vary for changers. No one knows why. It's just a fact that whatever we carry on our person becomes integrated within the animal persona."
"What if you were holding a bag of some sort?"
"Then that would be gripped in my talons when I changed."
"Weird." She frowned at the screen for a moment. "That still doesn't answer my original question."
"You suggested in the doctor's office that the killer was angry. Maybe she didn't bring a change of clothes simply because she thought she was in control — until confronted by the doctor wearing a white coat."