Memory Zero (Spook Squad 1)

Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them back. Damn it all, the man she’d shot wasn’t Jack. It was a clone who didn’t deserve her guilt or her tears.

Maybe Jack himself didn’t deserve them either.

The bedroom was a mess. Blankets were strewn onto the floor, and clothes lay everywhere, the clean and ironed mingling with the dirty in drifting piles. But the dust that lay thick on the furniture through the rest of the house was absent here. A coffee cup sat on the dressing table, its contents half-consumed and just beginning to congeal. Someone had been in here recently, and if the clothes were any indication, had packed in a hurry.

She stepped across several clothing mounds and made her way into the master bathroom. No trace of Suzy’s makeup—a telling sign, if ever there was one. From what Jack had said, she had a veritable mountain of stuff she used night and day. It had obviously gone with Suzy—wherever that might be.

She turned and crossed to the bedside table, opening the top drawer. Undergarments greeted her—Jack’s, by the look of it. She poked through the drawer, just to ensure there was nothing else, then grabbed it and pulled it out, tipping the undergarments onto the floor as she flipped it over. Nothing taped on the bottom. She studied the base for a moment, and then noticed a slight scrape along one side, and a broken edge in one corner.

She tapped the bottom and heard the slight echo, as if the drawer were hollow. And the actual depth of the drawer certainly didn’t match the depth of the sides. Maybe a false bottom? She stuck her little finger into the hole and gently tugged. The top layer came away, revealing a two-inch hiding place. Three digital disks gleamed softly in the half-light, along with an envelope. She shoved the lot into her pocket.

Out in the hall, a floorboard creaked—a sound so soft that, if it weren’t for the strange hush in the house, she might not have heard it. Even then, she might have passed it off as nothing more than the normal creaking of an old house, but there was a sudden prickle of heat across her skin, and a wash of awareness through her mind.

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A vampire and a shapeshifter had entered the house.

She reached back for her gun, then realized she no longer had it. Her gaze went to the bed. Jack had often said that a gun was the natural extension of his arm. Even in the bedroom, he would have had one within reach.

She knelt down and felt underneath the bed. Her fingers slid across the metal slats, then touched something slick and cold. Smiling grimly, she peeled the weapon away from its hiding spot.

Only it wasn’t just any old gun. It was the latest in laser development—a Y-shaped weapon that molded itself to your palm and could torch a hole the size of a football field in the side of a building.

She frowned as she peeled the tape off the weapon. Where had Jack found the money to buy something like this? You certainly couldn’t get these legally, and they were worth a fortune on the streets.

As she checked to see if the weapon was loaded, another floorboard creaked. Mouth suddenly dry, she grasped the weapon and walked carefully to the door. The silence was so deep she could hear breathing—not hers, someone else’s.

Whoever she heard was close. Maybe even right outside the bedroom door.

She set the gun on its lowest setting and clicked the safety off. The sound, though whisper soft, seemed to ricochet through the hush. In the hall, someone chuckled softly.

A chill ran down her spine. No one in his right mind would laugh like that. Not unless he was very, very sure of the outcome. With the gun clinging to her palm like a limpet, the barrel barely visible between her clenched fingers, she took a deep breath and stepped from the bedroom.

GABRIEL STRODE DOWN THE PRISTINE halls of the SIU, trying to ignore the surprised looks that greeted him. He felt like shit—and as Karl had already pointed out, he looked like it, too. But did they all have to look so amused once their initial shock had worn off?

His office door slid open long before he neared it, revealing Finley, who had several reams of paper clutched close to his chest.

“They told me you wanted to see me, sir.”

He smiled grimly. What he’d actually said was that he’d like to wring the doctor’s scrawny little neck for letting Ryan escape. And he had promptly been reminded that the woman was his responsibility, not Finley’s. A truth he couldn’t argue against without explaining why he hadn’t been here to mind her.

“I told you to watch her, Finley.”

The young doctor pushed his glasses up his nose and stepped back, allowing Gabriel room to pass.

“I assigned two guards. I just didn’t expect her to escape through the false ceiling.”

No one did, least of all him. But he was beginning to think they should expect the unexpected when dealing with Samantha Ryan. He crossed to the small wash area and flicked on the tap. “How many tests did you manage to run?”

“Several.” Finley peeled the printouts away from his chest and shuffled through the top layer. “We haven’t been able to pin down that extra chromosome yet. Tests so far indicate it’s something we haven’t come across before.”

Gabriel studied his reflection for a moment. Dried blood had matted his hair into weird shapes, and a deep cut near his right cheek was beginning to swell his eye shut. Stephan was going to be furious—especially after his request that Gabriel take a partner with him on missions.

Although Stephan, of all people, should understand his reasons for refusing to do so. Someone with two dead partners behind him should not be given a third.

He ducked his head under the cold water, rinsing the blood away, then grabbed a towel and returned his attention to Finley. “I thought we’d just finished cataloging all known species, human or not.”

“That’s the thing—known species. You can be pretty sure there are a heck of a lot of species out there that we haven’t seen, let alone cataloged.”