"Joe," he murmured.
"Mr. Black," she continued, ignoring his almost bitter smile. "What do you know about Jake Cooper and Alan Haynes?"
He sipped at his coffee for a minute. "Both worked on the Penumbra project. Both worked on the Generation Eighteen project."
"What can you tell me about Generation Eighteen?"
"Nothing your partner doesn't already know."
He said the word partner like it was a curse. She raised her eyebrows slightly. "Why do you want him dead when you haven't even met him?"
"That would take longer to explain than we have."
Not that he intended to explain. She rubbed her arms. "What makes you so certain Gabriel knows anything about Generation Eighteen?"
"Because the logical step after the first three murders is to pick up the two remaining men. Stern is nothing if not logical."
"How do you know about the three murders? The SIU has a media blitz on it. And how do you know that there are two men remaining?"
"I'm a mystic, remember?"
"Yeah, right. Maybe you'd better accompany me downtown for some questioning."
"That I cannot do."
"I think maybe you will."
"Do not push me, Samantha."
Though there was no threat in his voice, no threat in the way he sat, fear surged. She swallowed. This man could reach out and kill her without even moving. Could snuff out the flame of her existence with merely a thought. How she could be so certain about something like that, she couldn't really say. But she was certain.
"If you wish to find some answers," he continued, "look at the pin I gave you."
The pin? The one he'd given her when he saved her life? She frowned, trying to remember where she'd put it. "Do you mean answers to the murders, or answers about myself?"
"Perhaps it would be a start for both paths." He drained his coffee in one gulp and rose.
"We shall meet again, soon," he said. "In the mean time, be careful. Your abilities will not protect you from the kites if you get too close."
"The kites? What do you know about them?"
A smile ghosted across his face. "I made them," he said, then raised his arms to the sky. His body shimmered, then began to blur, briefly resembling putty being molded by unseen hands. Then he leapt skywards on black wings.
A crow. The harbinger of bad news. The messenger of death. An oddly fitting choice for the stranger.
Could he be believed when he said he'd made the kites? She'd sensed no lie in his words, and yet, it hadn't seemed the entire truth, either.
And that made a whole lot of sense, didn't it?
Snorting softly, she finished her coffee, then picked up the bill and paid for it. She glanced at her watch. Another hour had passed. Gabriel was going to kill her.
It took half an hour to get back to headquarters. By that time, her head was pounding again. She headed down to her dark little hole.
"Computer on." She threw her coat over the back of the chair and sat down.
"Afternoon, sweetness. How's your day been?"
"Just peachy. You got those test results back yet?"