Death Knell

by Hailey Edwards

  “They’re my friends.”

  “You heard them.” Cole searched my face. “We’re family.”

  Uncertain if he meant the words for me or Wu, I clung to them all the same. Dad was all I had left in this world now that I had alienated the Rixtons. Maggie was coterie, and I considered her family. Portia and the guys were a melting pot, and I was happy to dissolve into their ranks if they would have me.

  Wu exited the room then returned with a box he passed to me. “You’ll be needing these.”

  “New boots.” I rubbed a thumb across the label. “I’ll try not to lose this pair the first time I wear them.”

  Crooking his lips, he backed out onto the pier. “I’ll leave you to dress.”

  Uniform tucked under his arm, Cole shut the door behind him. “I’ll dress in the corner.” He turned his back to me. “Let me know when I can turn around.”

  The room was large, it had to be to accommodate a man built like Cole, but he didn’t give me a chance to get far before his shorts hit the floor.

  A strangled noise clawed up my throat, and it didn’t cut off until he glanced over his shoulder at me. And smiled.

  “You—” Heat swept up my neck and stung in my cheeks. “You.”

  If ogling his bare ass was wrong, then noticing the muscular indents in the curve of each cheek was worse, but that didn’t stop me from staring.

  “Take a picture.” Making no move to cover himself, he chuckled. “It’ll last longer.”

  “I’ll do that.” Given permission, I fumbled around the bed until I palmed my phone and used burst mode to make sure I got at least one picture that wasn’t blurred. “Thanks.”

  The red painting his cheeks when I called his bluff was precious, but as much as I wanted to cross to him and press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, I wasn’t dumb enough to get that close to so much naked Cole. Until he initiated, I was keeping my hands to myself.

  With the exhibition over, Cole started dressing in an economical fashion that still had me salivating as I watched from the corner of my eye. And if I noticed him watching me right back while I stripped off my PJs and donned my suit, I behaved. Mostly. Okay, so maybe I never wore thongs to work, but it’s not like I’d ever had a reason to scintillate in polyester, either. And if he bit off a pained groan when I accidentally dropped my bra and had to bend down to pick it up, well, I’m sure blue was a lovely color on him. It would complement his eyes.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  As promised, Cole drove us to the hospital. I rode beside him and found the landscape too fascinating to meet his eyes. Thinking about the picture on my phone, I half expected either it or my panties to melt. I had the worst flush in the history of flushes, and Wu noticed. Of course he did.

  “Are you feeling all right?” he drawled from the backseat. “Your face is splotchy.”

  “I’m good.” I flipped down my visor. “It’s probably all that direct sunlight burning my cheeks.”

  “Mmm” was all he said, and I was grateful.

  Desperate for a distraction, I texted Kapoor to check his pulse. He pinged me back seconds later, assured me he wasn’t dead, and asked when to expect my latest report to hit his desk. No wonder Wu had hesitated to contact him. Paperwork sucked. Consider me schooled. In the future, I would assume no news meant good news too.

  Playing the role of chauffeur to the hilt, Cole guided the SUV beneath the portico. Wu hopped out, but I hung back long enough for Cole’s fingers to brush my cheek, tracing the path blazing across my face.

  “I’m keeping the photo,” I informed him primly. “It’s mine, and you can’t have it back.”

  “It’s yours,” he agreed, sounding far too agreeable.

  His feline grin made me wonder what I had started with those pictures.

  I jumped when Wu rapped his knuckles on the glass then blushed even harder at being caught having inappropriate thoughts while on the job.

  “On my way,” I assured him, forcing myself not to look at Cole one last time.

  “Clearly.” Wu pulled out his phone, checked its display. “That’s why I had to come and fetch you.”

  The text lit a fire under him, and he started walking before my feet hit the pavement.

  “So . . . ” I had to jog to match his long legs. “What’s the plan?”

  “I have ID.” He pulled his jacket to one side to flash his FBI badge. “We go to Lambert’s room, we interview him, we establish our right to be there should it be required, and then we hit the lab on our way out.”

  “Simple and straightforward.” I popped my knuckles. “I like it.”

  The lobby was bustling, and each elevator arrived packed to capacity then left that way. News anchors held court in opposite corners of the lobby, updating the public on the mysterious outbreak.

  Having them ignore me was surreal. It made me wonder if I shouldn’t have moved or switched uniforms a long time ago, but no. I had loved living in Canton, both in my own apartment and sharing the farmhouse with Dad. Factor in Uncle Harold and Aunt Nancy, the Rixtons, and Maggie, and it had been paradise. Thanks to War, it was paradise lost, and I was happy to have put the city limits behind me.

  Though, once Dad recovered, he might decide to return home. That would be hard, on both of us, but so was moving on.

  Wu and I shuffled out of the elevator when it reached our floor, after stopping on each one in between, and he cut a path straight to Lambert’s room. This time slipping in wasn’t an option. The hospital had positioned two security guards in the hall to monitor his door. They spotted us, took in our suits and Wu’s purposeful stride, then exchanged a look.

  “We need to speak with Mr. Lambert,” Wu informed them, smooth as glass.

  “We’ll need to see some ID,” said the one on the right.

  “Of course.” Wu exposed the badge on his hip. “I’m Special Agent Adam Wu with the FBI.”

  And the funny thing was, in a roundabout way, it was the truth. The taskforce was a division of the NSB, and the NSB was a branch of the FBI. That had to be the reason Wu could present his credentials so boldly. The alternative, that he was such an accomplished liar, shook me. Though it’s not like he hadn’t had centuries—or something like it—to perfect the art.

  “This is my partner.” He jerked his chin toward me. “Special Agent Luce Boudreau.”

  “What’s your interest?” the one on the left asked. “Or is that classified?”

  Wu leaned in closer and pitched his voice low. “The body Mr. Lambert discovered belongs to a suspected drug mule. We’re investigating cartel ties and want to clear Mr. Lambert of any wrongdoing.”

  “Foaming at the mouth,” Righty said. “Like from an OD.”

  “Yeah.” Lefty grimaced. “Some of that shit is just whatever chemicals some dumbass found under their kitchen sink and mixed together.”

  Righty nodded then frowned. “That doesn’t explain why it affected the personnel, though.”

  “We suspect the compound has hallucinogenic properties,” Wu confided. “It’s possible a friend or coworker attempted to mask Mr. Lambert’s withdrawal symptoms by sneaking him more product. If it was an inhalant, an aerosol perhaps, that would explain its widespread effects.”

  “And if it was cooked up in someone’s bathtub,” Lefty said, “that would explain why it killed so many people.”

  “We have a meeting in a half hour,” I reminded Wu in a solemn voice. “We better make this fast.”

  The guards, convinced we were the good guys, held the door for us. Their muted conversation continued after it swung closed. From all appearances, they could have talked louder without bothering the room’s occupant.

  Jay Lambert was out cold. We just had to hope it was natural sleep and not medically induced.

  “That story is going to be all over the hospital by the time those guys clock out.” I huddled at the door by Wu. “You really shouldn’t have implicated the poor kid. He’s already young, tattooed and pierced. Folks will peg him for a hooligan
as it is.”

  Wu looked amused. “Would you feel better if I released an official statement clearing him of all wrongdoing?”

  “Can you do that?” I reached in his jacket and tapped the badge. It was metal. Solid. “Is that real?”

  “I didn’t get it out of a gumball machine, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “If someone calls in our credentials,” I wondered, “will they validate us?”

  He chuckled at my seriousness. “Is this one of those if a tree falls in the forest questions?”

  “Uh, no.” I jabbed him in the ribs with my pointer. “This is one of those covering my ass questions since I didn’t exactly get an orientation.”

  “You’re thinking of your father.” Wu saw right through me. “He’s free to dial them up. Rixton is too. Anyone who calls looking for you at the FBI will be routed to your phone.”

  “What if they come to a physical location?” Dad thought I would be working out of nearby Jackson. I could envision him wanting a tour of the office. “What happens then?”

  “We create a paper trail for a transfer you forgot to mention then establish a protocol if anyone comes searching for you in the future.” Wu cocked an eyebrow. “ I thought we had an urgent meeting to attend?”

  Rolling my eyes, I crossed the room to check on the patient. The kid was gaunter than the last time I stood over him, the bruises under his eyes more pronounced. He might have survived whatever virus hit his system, but it had cost him. “Mr. Lambert?”

  “Five more minutes,” he mumbled before rolling onto his side. “Tired.”

  “I’m Special Agent Luce Boudreau with the FBI.” Say that five times fast. “My partner and I would like to ask you a few questions if that’s okay.”

  “S’okay.”

  I started him off light and easy. “How did you and your friends come to be down by the river?”

  “Picnic. Tryin’ to impress a girl.”

  That tracked with the police report. “That’s why you dove in the water?”

  “I thought that woman was drowning,” he protested. “It was the right thing to do.”

  “Yes, it was.” Time to dig deeper. “When did you first realize there was something wrong?”

  “I touched her in the water. Her skin was clammy, but I thought . . . ” He rolled onto his back and used the control to raise the head of his bed. He must still be too weak to sit up without aid. “I think I could tell before I reached her. There was this smell . . . but she was moving. When I got closer, I thought—but she wasn’t swimming. Trying to swim. She was twitching in the water. I didn’t get it until I dragged her onto the shore.”

  Pay dirt. “What didn’t you get?”

  “This sounds crazy, I know it does, but I think . . . I think she was already dead before I found her.”

  Talk about dirt, this kid was digging his own grave with Wu in the room. I sensed, rather than saw, him shift on my periphery and angled myself between him and the kid. “How long after you found her did you get sick?”

  “Yes!” His eyes brightened. “I kept telling my doctors, but they wouldn’t believe me. I never get sick. Ask my mother. I never had seizures. Nothing like that.” He touched the tattoo of an eagle in flight on his arm, and I noticed the sleeve he was working on was flight-themed. Ironic given death might come for him on swift wings if this went sideways. “I don’t do drugs. I don’t drink. My old man did both, and I do neither. Ink is my only addiction, and it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

  “I believe you.”

  “You do?” His eyes sparked again. “For real?”

  The hope in his voice made my chest ache. “For real, I do.”

  “Good.” He exhaled and gripped the rails on either side of his bed. “They won’t tell me what happened to those people who got sick from being in my room.”

  The kid was fishing, but maybe letting him catch something would build trust. “A few of them are in ICU, just down the hall. More of them are in quarantine until the doctors figure out if they’ve been infected.” Though he deserved to know, I hated being the one to tell him. “The rest died.”

  “That’s what the news guy said, but I hoped he was wrong.” He smoothed his thumb over a square lump on the rail nearest me. The image had long since been rubbed away, but it must have been a button at some point. “They took the remote, but they forgot about this. I watch TV sometimes during shift change when it’s quiet.”

  Odds were good the nurses were letting him get away with it, but I couldn’t blame them. He must be bored out of his mind, and he was too weak to do much else. Though maybe they ought to be policing exactly what he was watching. “How do you feel now?”

  “Better. Still weak. Still . . . tingly.” A hint of warmth splashed his cheeks. “Will you think I sound like a baby if I admit I just want to go home? They won’t let Mom in here, and I could use a hug right about now.”

  Another woman might have acted as a surrogate or offered at least. Maybe he was hinting he wanted exactly that, but humans were still hard for me to touch, and I didn’t want his hands on me.

  “Do you have a card?” I patted my pockets for show. “I seem to have left mine at home.”

  “Of course.” Wu removed a sleek black case from his pocket, flicked it open and withdrew a crisp rectangle with the contact info printed in bold ink. I skimmed the details in passing and almost dropped the card. “I always carry spares.”

  The card Wu handed me was the feminine version of his. I almost didn’t want to give it up, but I couldn’t gawk at the FBI seal or all my fancy titles without giving away the fact this was my first time holding my new identity. “Call me if you remember anything you might think is important.” With reluctance, I passed the card to Lambert. “Reach out if you overhear anything that worries you, or if they attempt to move you from this location.”

  “I can do that.” He rubbed his thumb over the seal, and I experienced a moment of concern that the metallic sheen might flake if he got his nail involved. “Can you get a message to my mom for me?”

  “Keep it brief.” Wu passed over the pad and pen from the nightstand. “We don’t want to interfere with hospital protocol more than necessary.” He was looking at me when he said, “Protocols are in place for a reason.”

  There was a message there, not buried too deep, either. A subtle warning, if you will. That I shouldn’t get attached to Lambert. The taskforce’s new janitor, whoever had replaced Kapoor, would be through at some point to clean up the mess. Right now, Lambert was in danger of being swept under the rug.

  “Okay, finished.” Lambert ripped off the topmost page, folded it and passed it to me. “There you go.”

  He didn’t spare Wu a second glance, hadn’t so much as spoken to him. As often as I wondered how my new partner passed for human, I was starting to think they saw him just fine. The nice suit and fancy shoes distracted, sure. It gave him a polished air I suspected he cultivated either because classy was his default, or his dry sense of humor was at work again.

  After seeing my uniform, I had poked fun at him, calling us the men in black. I was starting to wonder if the joke was on me, and Wu had been playing it on humans for a long, long time.

  “We’ll see to it that your mother gets this.” I tucked it in the pocket of my jacket and gave it a pat. “Put that card where you won’t lose it.”

  He saluted me with the paper between his fingers. “Yes, ma’am.”

  We left without Wu managing to get a word in edgewise, and I didn’t breathe easy until we stood in the hall. The guards all but clicked their heels together and saluted Wu, which amused him. I could tell by the slight crinkles gathering at the corners of his eyes. Only someone who knew him would catch the subtle amusement, and it was only mildly terrifying to count myself in that small number.

  “The lab has been temporarily relocated to the top floor,” Wu said, sticking close. “The facility is undergoing an extensive renovation, and they’re operating with a skeleton crew.”

&n
bsp; “That plays in our favor.” About time we caught a break. “The location won’t be secure.”

  “Since their in-house facilities are diminished, they’re sending most blood samples out for testing.” He checked the time on his phone. “It’s too early for the courier. We should have time to get in, get Lambert’s vial, and get back out.”

  “How are we going to store it?” The suits were nice, don’t get me wrong, but they didn’t come with refrigerated pockets. “What’s the shelf life of blood at room temperature? Thirty minutes?”

  The hotel had a mini fridge and complimentary ice. Either would do for transport until Wu got the sample to the White Horse lab. And I had no doubt that’s where he intended to go. He wouldn’t be able to resist rubbing Cole’s nose in the fact he held a contract with them, a longstanding one, that no one had connected to him until he asked me to drop samples there for testing.

  I couldn’t even be mad about it, really. I was a resource. I expected to be used. I also expected to return the favor. However, I was less enthusiastic about the taskforce using me as a conduit to access my coterie.

  “We must keep it chilled.” Wu brought a black fabric pouch out of his pocket, about the length and width of a cigar. “The vials have anticoagulants to prevent clotting, but the blood will still hemolyze. This will be our only chance to collect a sample without rousing suspicion. One tube might be lost or mislabeled. Two, on a high-profile case, will earn the nurse transporting them guards until the transfer is made.”

  With the risk of infection so high, he was right to emphasize how important it was we get this right on the first try.

  The elevator ride up to the lab thinned the herd until only the two of us were left. We stepped out into a construction zone. Plastic sheeting sealed off hallways to the left, but the right side appeared to be finished. A temporary sign that read “Laboratory” complete with a red arrow showed us the way.

  The hospital had set their workstation as far from the chaos of construction as possible. The floors were new and gleaming, the walls covered in fresh paint. The smells burned my eyes. Even Wu squinted from the fumes.