Personal Demon (Otherworld 8)

r /> "I can do it. I just thought--"

"No, you're right. It should come from me." I really didn't want my mother to hear about the death of my half-brothers on the news.

"Oh, and I spoke to Savannah," Paige said. "She and Adam want to come down and help out."

"I'd rather--"

"They stay put and mind the shop. That's what I told them."

"Thank you."

I picked up the office phone to call my mother--I didn't dare check my cell and see how many voice messages I'd accumulated during my ten-minute recess. Before I dialed more than the area code, I heard "Sir?" and glanced up to see a middle-aged man in the doorway, clutching a file.

"Yes?"

"Warren from the lab, sir. We've never met."

"Warren?"

"Yes, sir. Warren Mills."

Normally I would have asked more, learning something about him, but today, committing his name to memory was the best I could manage.

"You sent down blood and DNA from an apartment. Not the one from last night. This was from..." He glanced at his notes. "Jaz and Sonny?"

"Yes, right."

"I think you need to see this."

HOPE

SCENT MEMORY

We went first to Jaz and Sonny's apartment. Karl didn't explain, but I knew he had to be second-guessing his memory of the scent he'd picked up from Guy and wanted to return here, where we'd seen him two nights ago.

The apartment was as we'd left it.

Karl inhaled. "Someone else has been here."

"I think Paige mentioned Lucas had techs come by and collect samples--DNA, fingerprints..."

He nodded and walked to the sofa where the jacket still lay.

"You said this was Sonny's?"

I nodded.

He sniffed it, and I realized that was why he was here--reacquainting himself with these scents.

"Let me grab you something of Jaz's."

He protested that he could tell Jaz's scent by elimination, but I hurried into the bedroom, eager to be doing something after a morning of following others around.

There were two twin beds in the room, and a laundry basket standing in for a hamper. At least 80 percent of the dirty clothes had made it in.

Lying on top was the shirt Jaz had worn after the sweet sixteen heist. As I lifted it, I saw him again, his eyes dancing with tequila, the fumes on his breath as his lips came toward mine, his hands pressed against my sides, eyes closing, inky lashes curling on his cheeks--

"Is that his?" Karl asked from the door.