Generation 18 (Spook Squad 2)

“It’s illegal to send animals through the post. They should hang the person who did that.”

“They’ll probably get a pat on the head and a warning not to do it again.”

“Yeah, the courts don’t seem to care these days.” The vet injected the growling cat, somehow avoiding the razor-sharp claws it flung her way.

“That’s it. If you both head back to reception, I’ll write up the bill and send it out.”

Sam nodded and put the squirming feline back into the box. It was easy to see why this particular cat hadn’t had any recent shots. Kahn was definitely a killer. She just had to hope the box would hold up until she got him back to his owner.

She headed back to reception and paid the fee. All the while, the back of her neck itched. Someone was watching her. Someone with death on her mind.

After seat-belting the cat carrier into the backseat, Sam climbed into the front and tapped the wristcom. The SIU’s digital receptionist answered on the second ring.

“Christine, could you patch me through to workstation 1934?”

Izzy appeared onscreen. “This is a new experience, sweetie.”

“I’d hate for you to be bored, Iz. Listen, do a search on Dr. Francis. I want a complete history—and if she lives in an apartment, include surveillance tapes from her home if you can get hold of them.”

“Will do. And you have a six-thirty appointment with Dr. O’Hearn.”

O’Hearn certainly didn’t waste time. Sam glanced at her watch. She’d have just enough time to return the cat and get there. “Thanks, Izzy.”

“Have a nice evening.”

Sam started the car and headed out of the parking lot. And all the while, the eyes watched, burning into the back of her skull.

GABRIEL LEANED BACK IN HIS chair and glanced at his watch. Seven-thirty. He wondered how Sam was doing with O’Hearn. He’d phoned the doc earlier, calling in a favor and getting Sam squeezed in. He just hoped O’Hearn could discover the reason for Sam’s continuous bout of headaches.

“Search completed,” the com-unit intoned.

Gabriel rubbed his eyes and then studied the com-screen. “Results?”

“All four victims were adopted from the same State care center. All four victims were placed in care on the same day.”

Coincidence? Not likely. “Did you find the birth certificates for Harry Maxwell and Carmen Brandon?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s listed as the mother?”

“Emma Pierce.”

So Emma was the link. “Is there a complete list of all children handed into State care that day?”

“Searching. One moment, please.”

Gabriel tapped the desk and watched the blank screen. And couldn’t help thinking a pink fuzz-ball twirling a purple boa would definitely be more interesting.

“Seventeen children were entered into the care of the Greenwood center that day.”

He shook his head. Seventeen children and no one had thought that odd? “Get me the complete list of names, their adoption records, birth certificates and current location.”

“List and adoption records onscreen. Searching for birth certificates and location.”

The list was in alphabetical order, with the adoption details beside each name. Gabriel scanned through the list. One name, halfway down, jumped out at him. The air left his lungs, as suddenly as if someone had punched him in the gut. Miranda Jones, now Miranda Stern. His sister.

He reached for the wristcom and quickly dialed Stephan’s secure number.