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GABRIEL SHOWED HIS ID TO the black-clad police officer keeping watch, then ducked under the yellow crime-scene tapes. The rotating red and blue lights of the nearby police vehicles washed across the night, splashing the otherwise somber, glass-walled building with color.
Like so many other buildings constructed in the area recently, this one had no real character. Its only purpose was to provide a decent view for those wealthy enough to afford an apartment so close to the city and the beach. He glanced up—ten floors in all. Surely, this time, they’d find a witness.
His brother walked down the steps as Gabriel approached. Stephan was a multi-shifter, capable of taking the form of any human male he touched, but the shape he mostly wore these days was that of Jonathan Byrne, the head of the SIU. Gabriel raised his eyebrows in surprise. It was unusual for the SIU director to become involved in routine investigations such as this. Something had to be up.
Byrne stopped in front of him, his blue eyes narrowed. “Where’s Ryan?”
Gabriel shrugged, even though he knew his nonchalance would only irritate his brother more. Right now, he didn’t really care. “Handling the kite murder.”
Stephan shot an aggravated look at the two police officers standing nearby and Gabriel smiled grimly, knowing their presence prevented Stephan from saying too much. It was well known that Byrne had little to do with his six assistant directors. Being too familiar now might just blow Stephan’s cover.
“Damn it, Stern, you’re supposed to be partners.”
“I don’t want or need a partner.” And his brother, more than anyone, should have understood why.
“Andrea died a long time ago,” Stephan sai
d softly, an edge of compassion in his voice.
“Mike didn’t.” Gabriel tried to control the almost instinctive rush of anger, but the desire to hit someone, anyone, was so fierce his fists clenched. “Death comes in threes, Byrne. I’m due one more.”
And come hell or high water, that was not going to be Sam.
Stephan studied him for a long moment, then shook his head and headed back to the building. Gabriel fell into step beside him. The matter of his partner might have been dropped, but it was definitely not forgotten. Yet this was one battle of wills his brother was not going to win.
“Why are you here?” he asked, as they entered the building.
“As a personal request from Frank Maxwell.”
Maxwell was the federal minister for education, and one of the few friends the real Byrne had actually had. As such, he’d posed a very real threat to Stephan as he tried to secure his new identity. Luckily, the two men had seen little of each other in the last year, so any differences Maxwell might see in Byrne now would surely be put down to time and the pressures of a new job. “Why?”
“It’s his son who’s been murdered.”
Gabriel glanced at his brother in surprise. “A male? Are you sure it’s the same killer and not a copycat?”
Stephan’s smile was grim. “You’ll see when we get there.”
Which could only mean that the clinical brutality of the previous attacks was also evident here. Gabriel eyed the police officer guarding the express elevator and frowned. The same officer had been guarding the doorway after Jack had bombed Sam’s apartment. Odd that he was here now, too.
“Is Marsdan on the scene?” Gabriel asked softly.
Stephan met his gaze and shook his head minutely. The young officer stepped aside as they approached the elevator. Gabriel glanced at his name tag: Sanders.
“Tenth floor, sir?”
Gabriel nodded, noting that Sanders’s eyes were a deep, unfathomable green that somehow seemed older than his years. It was almost as if the soul behind the eyes had seen more than one lifetime.
The officer pressed the button, then stepped clear as the elevator doors slid shut. Stephan raised an eyebrow at Gabriel. “Why ask about Marsdan? He’s a beat cop, not Homicide.”
Gabriel shrugged. “That officer was working with Marsdan when Sam’s apartment was bombed.”
“He might have been transferred.”
“Maybe.” Or maybe he was just getting suspicious in his old age. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check why that officer was here, when he had the time. “How old was Maxwell’s son?”
“Twenty-five, same as the others.”
The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. The hallway beyond was pale blue, offset by gold carpeting. Four doors led off the hall, and a police officer stood guard at the far end. Gabriel glanced up at the ceiling. CSMs were stationed at regular intervals, tracking them silently.
