How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back (White Trash Zombie 4)

Naomi tugged the photo free and flipped it around to show me a man of about sixty with gold wire rim glasses and a scar across the bridge of his nose. “Saberton personnel photos. That’s Dr. Kerazny, the head of R&D. Why?”

For a moment I could only stare as the connection between the blue-curtained mugshot of Kyle and Saberton personnel clicked in, then I abruptly remembered I needed to be super cool. “No reason. Just wondering.”

She gave me a dubious look, but before she could question me we both jerked our heads toward the front door at the sound of a key in the lock.

Kyle moved like a whirlwind, closing drawers, and shoving Naomi and me toward the bedroom. “Out. Fire escape.” A hard bang on the door punctuated his words, and right before Kyle pushed me into the bedroom I got one good look behind me of a man in a dark shirt and fatigue pants as he burst the door chain. I knew him. Boat Launch Guy. He was the Saberton man at the boat launch when Philip—working undercover—dragged me from my car and held me down for their tech to draw my blood. A few days later I saw that same man at the filming of the zombie movie and slugged him with great pleasure.

Voices from the living room told me Boat Launch Guy wasn’t alone. Philip had the window open and practically threw me out and onto the fire escape. “Climb down!” he ordered—unnecessarily, since I had no problem figuring that much out on my own. Naomi was a few feet ahead of me, already clattering down the narrow metal stairs. My mind whirled as I tried to remember if I’d put everything back in place in the bedroom, then realized it didn’t matter since obviously someone had known we were there and sent the goon squad. Those guys hadn’t shown up to water the plants.

Philip climbed out as soon as I was near the bottom and started down the stairs, taking them several at a time. Naomi shoved the folder into her jacket as we reached the last landing, then did something to the ladder to make it drop to the ground. As soon as it clanged down she leaped nimbly onto it with a cool move where she put her feet and hands on the outer edges and slid down like a goddamn action movie star. For a brief instant I was tempted to try it, then decided I’d end up with two broken ankles, and therefore simply climbed down as quickly as

possible using the normal method. I looked up as I did and saw Kyle finally climbing out the window. I didn’t see any men in black fatigues, so I could only assume he’d dealt with them. He was still hurrying, though, so apparently it wasn’t a permanent “dealing with.”

I hit the ground a few seconds after Naomi. She looked up to make sure both men were on their way down, then took off at a run for the end of the street, me at her heels. I heard boots hit the ground behind me but didn’t waste time looking back. If it wasn’t Philip and Kyle I sure as hell didn’t want to slow myself down by looking.

At the corner Naomi dropped to a normally paced walk, then gripped my arm to pull me close and make sure I slowed down as well.

“Don’t look back,” she warned, somewhat breathless as we proceeded down the sidewalk. She pulled her phone out and did something, and when I heard the click of the camera I realized she’d taken a picture behind us. “Philip and Kyle are going the other direction,” she told me. “No sign of pursuit, but we need to do some traveling before we head back to the hotel.”

“To make sure we aren’t being followed?”

“Right.” She flashed me a slight smile. “You’re getting the hang of this espionage shit.”

I snorted. “Hey, illegal activity is kind of my thing, You know?”

She snorted right back at me, turned a corner and ducked down another street, then broke into a run again. I kept up with her, and this time was ready for the abrupt shift to a walk when we reached a larger avenue.

“They’re in a drawer,” I said as I settled into an amble beside her.

She did a quick scan of the traffic then motioned for us to cross the street. “What’s in a drawer?”

“Pictures of you,” I said. “Tons of them, all the way back to when y’all were babies.” I gave her a sidelong glance. “You never told me you and Andrew were twins.”

Naomi shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and quickened her pace slightly. “Who wants to be twins with an asshole?”

I stayed right beside her. “He wasn’t always an asshole, was he?” I asked. “I mean, there were some really cool pics of you two when you were younger. Hell, even when y’all were teens, you looked really close.”

“A lot can happen in ten years.” Expression tight, she glanced both ways before jaywalking toward the subway station. “Andrew made his choices, I made mine, and that’s that.”

And what about Kyle and his Saberton personnel photo? What kind of choices did he make? The memory surfaced of Chris dead with K Y scrawled in the dirt. Had we all been thoroughly played? I felt queasy at the thought. It didn’t help that I felt ready to burst with the need to talk to someone about it, but no way could it be with Naomi. She was too close to both Saberton and Kyle to see clearly. I needed to get Philip’s take on the whole thing.

I stuck right by Naomi’s side as we descended the subway stairs, and I even managed to swipe the MetroCard the right way on the first try. Only a couple of other people were on the platform waiting for the train, but we walked farther down to be sure we were alone and to give us a better chance of seeing anyone coming after us.

“Those were Saberton men at the apartment,” I said as soon as I knew we wouldn’t be overheard. “How the hell did they know we were there?”

Her forehead wrinkled with worry. “I don’t know. Maybe there’s surveillance I wasn’t aware of.” She grimaced and shook her head. “But I can’t see Andrew putting up with that in his own place.”

“Oh, shit, I almost forgot!” I said and smacked my forehead. “I think something’s going to happen to Jane.”

“Why? What did you find?”

I yanked my phone out and pulled up the picture of the invitation. “This.”

Her expression grew more serious as she peered at the tiny picture. “Damn. He sure as heck has some sort of interest in her. When is that?”

“Tomorrow, eight p.m.”

From down the tunnel we heard the roar of the approaching train. “Let’s get our asses back to the hotel nice and safe,” Naomi said. “Then we can figure out what to do.”