Generation 18 (Spook Squad 2)

Sam rose and walked over to the shelving unit. The CSM followed her, a small limpet that recorded her every move, protecting her from future accusations of mistakes. Or possibly damning her, if she did screw up. Mentally shrugging, she dug a set of gloves out of her pocket and put them on. Then she turned off the radio and ordered the CSM to pan across the photos lining the shelf.

Each photo contained the same four men, either fishing, drinking, or standing around a barbecue. All of them looked to be at least fifty or sixty. She glanced again at the body. The victim was bald, save for a few scraggly wisps of white near either ear. He wasn’t in any of these photos, then. Maybe he’d been the one taking them?

She picked up one framed photograph, then turned at the sound of footsteps. Gabriel entered, his gaze sweeping the room until he found her.

“I could put you on report for your behavior tonight,” he said, stopping just inside the doorway.

Though his face was impassive, his hazel eyes were stormy with anger and, surprisingly, a touch of fear. She debated ordering the CSM to stop recording, then shrugged and let it continue. Procedures stated that any and all activity at a crime scene had to be recorded. If that included being told off, then so be it.

“Do it. Maybe then you’ll get your wish and be rid of me.” She hesitated. What was the point of arguing about it here? There were far more important matters at stake—like why the kite attacked this man. “Do you know who our victim is?”

For an instant, it looked as if he might continue with his reprimand. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked across to the body. “Male, in his mid-sixties, obviously.” He glanced around the apartment. “And fairly well off. Those paintings are by Kyle Parker.”

She glanced across to the stylized landscapes. To her admittedly untrained eye, a three-year-old could have done a better job. And yet Parker’s paintings sold for millions.

“If he could afford those, he should have installed better security.”

“Security doesn’t usually stop the kites.”

“No, only decapitation or the sun can do that.” She frowned down at the body. According to the SIU labs, the kites were some sort of offshoot of the vampire family tree. The SIU researchers were desperate to get their hands on a live specimen for testing, but as yet no one had figured out a way to capture one. “This wasn’t a random attack. The kite came straight to this apartment.”

“Maybe the victim was the only one moving around.”

Sam shook her head. “There was movement in several apartments, but the creature ignored them all and came straight here.”

Gabriel frowned. “There’s been no evidence that the kites can be programmed to kill certain individuals.”

?

??But there’s been no evidence that they can’t, either.”

“True.” He studied her for a moment, his hazel eyes intense. “How did you drive the creature away? Stun rifles don’t work on kites.”

“No, but they definitely don’t like it when you fire it at their head. It seems to affect their ability to echolocate.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but any comment he was about to make was cut off as a wristcom—a two-inch-wide communications and minicomputer unit worn around the wrist—beeped. His, not hers.

He hit the unit’s interface with more force than necessary. “Stern here,” he said, with more than a hint of impatience in his voice.

Given the tightening of his already annoyed expression, the news obviously wasn’t good.

“What?” she said, the minute he’d hung up.

“It looks like our serial killer has struck again. Byrne wants me to investigate.”

Me, not we, she noted—and wondered if, in fact, Stephan had said that, or if Gabriel was locking her out again. “Where this time?”

“Elwood.”

She raised her eyebrows. If it was the same killer, then he was certainly showing no preference for area. So far, he’d killed in Toorak, Broadmeadows and now Elwood. And it was more than just miles that separated the three suburbs; each one occupied a different rung on the social ladder.

“What about the blood bank stakeout?”

“Briggs and Thornhill have taken over.”

Lucky them. But she’d seen the two working together before, and she had no doubt that Briggs would be considerate enough to offer her partner some hot coffee long before his butt froze to the step. “So let’s go investigate.”

Gabriel’s gaze narrowed, as if he’d sensed the hint of sarcasm underlying her words. “You disobeyed orders and came after the kite. Now you’re stuck with this case, I’m afraid.”