Generation 18 (Spook Squad 2)
He didn’t answer. She looked at him and a smile touched the corners of his lips. “You don’t know what you want.”
Yes, she did. A home. A mom and dad. Friends. A normal life. Everything she didn’t have now.
“Dreams that can never be achieved. Not with what we are.”
“And just what are we, Josh?”
She woke with a start, her heart racing even as the question seemed to reverberate through the darkness. For several seconds she didn’t move, but simply stared up at the ceiling. Just who the hell was this Joshua she kept dreaming of? Someone close, of that she was certain. Maybe a brother or a friend. Someone from the time she couldn’t remember, the years between her birth and her arrival at the state-run home.
But if these were true memories, and not some form of subconscious yearning, why were they coming back now? What had happened in the last few months to crack the wall that had hidden her past?
As usual, she had no answers to her questions. Sighing, she threw the bedcovers to one side and climbed out. It was nearly eight-thirty. Time she got moving. Given Gabriel’s terseness last night, he’d probably put her on report if she was late for work.
She grabbed a coffee, then got ready, barely catching the nine-thirty tram into the central business district.
Her dim little hole at the SIU certainly hadn’t improved any in the brief time she’d been away. She threw her bag across the back of the chair and sat down.
“Computer on.”
Izzy’s image flicked to life. “Good morning, sweetness. Have a good trip in?”
“Absolutely wonderful.” There was nothing nicer than being wedged between a guy reeking of garlic and a woman who tried to pick her up. “How’d the searches go?”
Izzy sighed dramatically. “Do you know how many people have purchased Heat in the last month? Two thousand four hundred and eighty.”
Sam raised her eyebrows. Given the hype surrounding the perfume, she’d expected the figure to be much higher—although, having tested the stuff herself, she could understand. There was nothing particularly outstanding about the fragrance—at least to her untrained nose, anyway. “Any chance of cross-referencing those people? I need to find a doctor.”
The purple boa swung into action. “You do like delving into haystacks looking for needles, don’t you, sweetie?”
“Favorite pastime. Just do it.”
“As long as time is something y
ou have plenty of.”
Right now, it was the only thing she had plenty of. “Got another search for you, as well.”
“Well, hallelujah!”
“I want you to search SIU records for multi-shifters with twin sisters. And do a separate search for multi-shifting quacks while you’re at it.”
“By quacks, I presume you mean the medical profession?”
“You presume correctly.”
“Human or animal?”
She raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t thought of that—there was nothing to say a vet couldn’t have the knowledge to cut up a human efficiently. “Both. And cross-reference the results against the Heat results; see if we come up with any similar names.”
“Your wish is my command.”
She snorted softly. Izzy’s tone was anything but compliant. “You found any history on the four men in the photo?”
“I certainly have.”
“Show photo and results onscreen.”
Izzy disappeared, replaced by the photo Sam had found in Peter Lyle’s apartment. It came as no real surprise that the four men had been in the military and worked alongside Peter Lyle at Hopeworth. Hal White, the oldest of the four, had died a month before Lyle’s murder. The other three—Roy Benson, Jake Cooper and Liam Haynes—were listed as retired. Their pensions were generous, even by military standards.