She rifled through the papers and files sitting on his desk, but Jack's file wasn't among them. Surely they couldn't have finished the autopsy already? Frowning, she swung around and headed for the morgue. She didn't have time to do a proper search for the file. Finley would soon notice she was missing. Before the alarm was raised, she had to get in, and have a look at Jack. She had a feeling Assistant Director Gabriel Stern would be canny enough to guess exactly where she'd gone.
The sickly strong scent of antiseptic punched her senses the moment she entered the room. Behind it, elusive and yet just as powerful, was the smell of death. She shuddered and quietly closed the door. The morgue was long and silent. Shadows crowded the far corners, despite the dim glow of the lights. Her gaze went to the where the dead lay waiting, and after a moment's hesitation, she walked across the room. The freezer units were categorized alphabetically. Jack's was about halfway along the wall. She grabbed the handle, and then she stopped and took several deep breaths to calm her suddenly churning stomach.
She could do this. Had to do this, if she wanted to start finding answers.
Gripping the handle tightly, she pulled the drawer open. Jack's body, cold and white, slid out to greet her. Her gaze went to what was left of his head, and her stomach rolled in revulsion. She let go of the drawer and backed away, desperately trying to control the urge to be sick. It wasn't as if she'd never seen a dead body before, for Christ's sake.
But this was the first time she'd seen anyone she'd cared about down here.
And absolutely the very first time that person was down here because she'd shot them.
For a reason, she reminded herself severely. She'd had no other choice, of that she was certain, even if she was certain of nothing else. And if she wanted to know why Jack had forced that choice, then she had better control her damn stomach and get back to examining the body.
Before AD Stern and his cronies came in here and dragged her away.
Taking another deep breath, she walked up to the drawer. And saw that death had frozen a look of disbelief on what remained of Jack's face.
Oh God ... no.
She staggered away and threw up in the nearest trash can.
"You okay?" The question rose out of the semidarkness, the voice familiar and filled with concern.
She groaned. Just what she needed. Gabriel finding her before she'd had a chance to overcome her nerves and look at Jack.
"I'm fine," she muttered, digging into her pocket to grab a handkerchief and wipe her mouth.
"There's a water fountain in the outer office. Would you like a drink?"
That had her looking up. He'd leave the room, leave her with the body? That went against every rule in the book, but then, Gabriel Stern didn't seem to care much about the rules. Not when ignoring them suited him better. "Yes. Thank you."
He nodded and turned around. She watched him walk back through the door, and then she pushed away from the desk and walked back over to Jack.
Trying to ignore the look on his face, trying to ignore her rebellious stomach, she studied the rest of his body. Jack na**d was nothing new to her. Men and woman shared the same change rooms up in State, and once she'd recovered from the initial shock, even embarrassment, she'd become as indifferent as everyone else to it all.
Yet she could never remember Jack being this white. He'd always prided himself on his tan — he'd never cared about how out of fashion it was deemed these days. Surely death hadn't stolen all his color.
Gabriel came back through the door and crossed over to her. He handed her a cup and studied the na**d form in front of them.
"What are you looking for?" he asked.
"I don't know." Sipping the water, she let her gaze slide down Jack's body. His left hand rested on the flat of his stomach. His wedding ring was missing, which in itself was not unusual, given the morgue staff would have secured any possessions before they placed him in the drawer. What was unusual was the fact that his finger showed no telltale mark of him ever having worn a ring.
Her gaze moved down, and she frowned. Where the hell was the knife scar? He'd received the wound in their first year as partners and had worn it as a badge of valor ever since, refusing to have skin grafts. It made no sense for it to be gone now.
But before she could open her mouth to mention it, the lights in the outer office went off. And they wouldn't have done that unless someone had ordered it. Why would someone from State, or even the SIU, have done such a thing when it was obvious someone was in the morgue?
Gabriel touched her arm in warning and pointed to the examination tables on the far side of the room. She nodded, slid Jack's drawer back home, and followed him across. The morgue lights went out as she hunkered down beside Gabriel. Someone moved in the outer office, sliding drawers open and closed. Searching for what?
Minutes dragged by. She shifted, wondering why Gabriel didn't do something. Whoever was in that office had to be up to no good if they'd turned the lights off, so why not call in the police? Hell, they were squatting in a building filled with them.
She shifted her weight again, and then stopped as the morgue door eased open. Heat prickled across her skin, and once again her senses seemed to explode outwards. The two men entering the room where vampires ... and yet not.
The sensation slithered away. She shuddered, not understanding what was happening, not even understanding the information the weird attack had given her.
Gabriel's hand touched her knee. Warmth and strength seemed to flow from it, fighting the chill suddenly encasing her body. She glanced up and saw the concern in his eyes. Fear suddenly slammed into her heart. She could see his eyes, see him, as clearly as if it were light, not pitch black. What the hell is happening to me? She had a sudden feeling that Finley's tests, and Gabriel himself, might be able to provide an answer, but now was not the time to ask.
Biting her lip, she turned her gaze back to the two men entering the room. Dressed in black, they almost merged into the darkness. One of them carried something over his right shoulder — a sack of some kind. Both of them stopped just inside the doorway, their gazes scanning the darkened room. If they were vampires, how could they not see her and Gabriel? Or hear the beats of their hearts? How could these men not know they were here?