What’s frightening about pacifism?Reece was about to say.
Except that people were dead. And Grayson and Jamey thought an empath had done it. And that was one of the most frightening things Reece had ever heard.
He bit down on his tongue and didn’t answer.
The elevator doors opened and Grayson held them for both Reece and Whitman. Another set of glass doors guarded R&D. Beyond the doors was a bullpen of people seated at white tables topped with black computers, faces fixed on glowing monitor screens.
Reece hung back, shoving his hands as deep in his hoodie pockets as he could.
Whitman was the one to scan her thumb in the security box, but Grayson still somehow managed to open the door for her, like he had lightning reflexes powered entirely by Southern manners. Reece trailed behind them through the lab. Eyes followed as they walked, but apparently a perk of tagging along behind the Dead Man was that the stares were on Grayson’s face and shoulders and no one seemed particularly interested in looking at Reece.
He glanced at the walls and wished he hadn’t. They were decorated with an assortment of framed Stone Solutions advertisements.Our Minds, Our Business, said one.Autonomy, Not Empathy, said another. And the biggest one at the hall’s end, a brightly colored sign that simply read,What Else Don’t We Know About Empaths?
He hunched his shoulders. “I don’t like it here.”
“That’s about as surprising as the sun rising,” said Grayson. “Although I suppose in this city, that would be a surprise.”
“Oh great, you’re a zombie and a comedian,” Reece muttered.
They came to a stop at a door with a large nameplate readingVanessa Whitman, Director. Whitman put a hand on the handle, but she didn’t open the door, instead smiling politely but fakely up at Grayson. “I’m sure I don’t know what you need with Jason’s office.”
Grayson leaned casually on the wall. “Dr. Owens was found dead this morning.” He tapped her nameplate on the door. “Me wanting to see his office isn’t surprising. You already moving in is. Some might be inclined to call that interference.”
Her unnatural smile stayed unnaturally still. “You know I would never interfere with any investigation of yours, Agent Grayson.”
Lie.
Well, that was interesting.
She finally pushed open the door and headed in. Grayson gestured for Reece to go in next, because of course he did. Reece squared his shoulders and tried to pretend he walked into lions’ dens every day.
As he entered the enormous corner space, he was suddenly more sympathetic about Whitman’s fast move. The view of Mount Rainier through the floor-to-ceiling windows was stunning.
The transition from Owen’s office to Whitman’s appeared half-finished. Two oversized mahogany bookshelves stood empty, boxes of books on the ground in front of them, and there was no art hanging, just a few framed paintings of beautiful Washington scenery propped against one wall. Reece didn’t have any kind of eye for art, but he’d guess those were Whitman’s.
Grayson shut the office door behind the three of them, and Reece was once again enclosed with their unsettling lack of emotions. He hadn’t felt stifled like this in his tiny Smart car cabin when it was just him and Grayson.
He tried to ignore the claustrophobia and pointed to the imposing mahogany desk dominating the room. “At least Owens’ desk is still in here.”
Whitman jerked her head toward him. Her voice was tighter when she spoke. “How did you—”
“That wasn’t empathy, it was stereotyping.” When both Grayson and Whitman stared, Reece shrugged. “It’s a manly desk and you smell like flowers.”
Grayson raised his eyebrows, but moved to the desk and began to open drawers. Whitman steepled her fingers, pink nails contrasting with her white lab coat. “Fine, why not. I’m giving the office awoman’s touch, as the saying goes.”
Grayson opened one of the lower drawers. A moment later, he held up a flat piece of wood. “Did you already add that touch to the false bottoms in the desk drawers?”
Whitman took a sharp breath.
Reece, who’d been crossing over to the bookshelves, glanced over his shoulder in time to catch the drop cloth lift for just an instant and her expression actually flutter with what looked like fear. It was gone an instant later as she tried to cover it with a small laugh. “Maybe Jason was paranoid.”
“Maybe,” Grayson said. “Though considering he’s no longer with us, maybe he had a reason to be.”
Reece furrowed his brow as he headed for the bookshelves. Grayson kept choosing softer ways to describe what happened to Jason Owens. He had to be doing it for Reece’s benefit, but why? Professional courtesy? What didprofessional courtesyeven mean if your alias wasthe Dead Man?
Behind Reece, Grayson asked, in a very casual tone, “Did you go out with Mr. Stone and the senator last night?”
Wait—what?
