Page 65 of The Turning of the Tables

Nobody responded.

They letme go later that night, with explicit instructions to Noah to not let me sleep until noon the next day. We were going to marathon a bunch of movies and order a late dinner—and Noah immediately got working onbrewing a pot of coffee, because he said he was going to need it.

He ordered me pad thai, even though Thai food wasn’t his favorite. He also got me spring rolls, fried tofu, and fried shrimp.

“Noah,” I protested. “I’m not starving.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But you… might need it.”

Despite the fact that I hadn’t said a word, Noah clearly wasn’t stupid. I’ve never thought he was, but… I had apparently underestimated just how many pieces Noah was able to put together.

I sighed. “We don’t know anything,” I told him.

“How many times have you been traced now? Three?”

“Two this year,” I replied. I didn’t mention that we had a third victim who’d been found outside the contagion window, but who had definitely been dumped inside it.

“Two thismonth,” Noah corrected.

“Also that,” I confirmed.

“And is this case related to those two?” he demanded, practically shoving a plate with Thai appetizers and sauces at me.

I took a shrimp and dipped it in sauce, moving slowly to avoid jarring my ribs. “I don’t know, Nono. I promise.” I didn’tknow. I suspected. Strongly.

I wondered if they’d call to tell me if we were clear. If they’d tell me what happened to Tierney or Aimes or Maza or anyone else, or just let me find out when they showed up at the next scene—or not.

I swallowed my shrimp, not in the least hungry.

But Noah was right.

I might need it.

We were donewith dinner and halfway through the second movie in ourMission Impossiblemarathon when my phone rang, the number popping up as Captain Villanova, the head of Maza’s precinct. Given that it was a little after midnight, I knew it couldn’t be good news.

Noah, eyes wide, nostrils flared, paused the movie.

“This is Mays,” I answered, struggling to keep the tremor from my voice.

“Mr. Mays,” came a serious baritone. “This is Captain Villanova, Precinct One of the RPD.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

He cleared his throat, and I knew it wasn’t good. Noah must have read my face—because of course he could, he’s mytwin—because he made a small noise. Or maybe he could hear Villanova. He’s got shifter hearing, after all. Maybe it was both.

“Mr. Mays, I’m calling to inform you that the victim in today’s homicide has tested positive for Arcanavirus.”

I’d opened my mouth to thank him, but then he kept going.

“And that Dr. Tierney has also tested positive.”

Oh. Fuck.I forced myself to swallow. Twice. “Thank you for letting me know, sir,” I managed, knowing my voice shook. “Sir?” I asked, before he could hang up.

“Yes, Mays?”

“Detective Maza and Ms. Aimes, sir? Officer Schitikova? The others?” I didn’t know if he could tell me. Or if he would.

“They have all been or will be informed of their exposure,” Villanova said, his voice flat and even.