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But if someone had wanted this place truly destroyed, he hadn’t done a very thorough job. The damage was hefty, but the apartment itself was still in reasonable shape, and the furniture was replaceable. So why bother? It almost looked as if whoever had done this was trying to cover something up rather than actually destroy anything.
A balding man in his mid-forties stepped forward, suspicion evident in his small brown eyes. “Can I help you?”
Gabriel flashed his badge yet again. The suspicion in the captain’s eyes increased.
“Have you located Samantha Ryan?” Gabriel asked.
“Since when has the SIU gotten involved in a case as mundane as a bombing?”
“Since when have the beat police?” Gabriel deliberately put a derogatory edge on the term, wanting to evoke some sort of honest response from the man.
Anger darkened the captain’s face. “Since it was one of my damn officers who was hit. Got a problem with that?”
The man’s sudden fierceness surprised him. Such loyalty to the ranks was a rarity these days. “Actually, no.” He watched a young officer bend to examine a small hole in the floor, then switched his gaze back to the captain and repeated his question. “You found Ryan yet?”
“No. Security reports show she was home, but we’ve found no evidence of it yet.”
If she’d been here, they would have found bits of her by now. “Mind if I look around?”
As an SIU officer, he outranked the captain and had the right to go where he wanted. But he’d discovered very early on that politeness cost nothing and gained much.
“I want to know if you find anything.”
Gabriel nodded. Whether he would actually say something or not was another matter entirely. Stepping past the captain, he moved across to the small hole the young officer had been examining. Squatting, he ran a finger round the edges. The white marker next to it told him forensics had already checked the hole, so he didn’t have to worry about fouling evidence. The rim was glass-edge smooth. The hole wasn’t a result of the bomb blast, but more likely a la
ser. He frowned. Lasers were a rarity on the streets. Even the black marketeers had trouble getting hold of them.
The SIU had them. The defense forces had them. So, too, did a few more covert government departments. As far as he knew, Sethanon didn’t have them.
He rose and moved into the next room. This room, a bedroom, had been shielded from the main blast by the kitchen cooking units. It had more smoke and water damage than anything else. Sodden masses of boxes and clothes lay everywhere. Even the bed was laden down with junk. Samantha Ryan might live in the apartment, but she sure as hell didn’t sleep in this room. There wasn’t space enough for a gnat to move.
He was about to turn around when the window caught his attention. Why was it broken when the bomb had destroyed nothing else in this room, not even the infinitely more fragile lightbulb? He weaved his way through the waterlogged boxes. Broken glass had scattered over the layers of junk near the window. If the explosive force of the bomb had caused the break, it would have blown out, not in.
He placed his hands on the sill, and, carefully avoiding the sharp shards still embedded in the window frame, leaned out the window. No stairs, and no obvious way of getting to this window from the ground. He glanced up. Another two stories, then the roof.
He headed back to the main room. “Captain, have you assigned anyone to the roof yet?”
Marsdan looked up, sudden interest evident in his hawklike features. “No. Why?”
“Might be worth a look. I think someone broke in through the bedroom window before the blast.”
Two officers were immediately assigned. He started to follow, but a long slash across the wall under the living room window caught his eye. He walked across to examine it. Another laser wound—and one that looked to have been caused by firing at a moving target.
He rose and looked out the window. If she’d jumped out this window, then surely she would still have been lying down on the rain-washed pavement when the police arrived. No human could survive a fall like that, and she certainly wouldn’t have been well enough to get up and run.
Then again, Finley’s test results had indicated Samantha Ryan was definitely something more than human.
He watched the rain gust across the pavement below. The fact that the bomb had destroyed only one section of the apartment suggested it was meant to either cover the attack on Ryan or destroy something specific. Maybe even both. No matter what that something was, no matter whether the bomb succeeded in destroying its intended target, she would have had a backup. It would be in this apartment somewhere, and she would be back for it.
All he had to do was sit here and wait.
SAM RUBBED HER ARMS IN the vague hope that the friction might stop her shivering. She was soaked to the skin and so cold she was beginning to lose sensation in her feet, which was probably a good thing, considering the depths of the laser burns. She hadn’t worked up the courage to look too closely at the wounds, but a cursory glance had revealed a shocking amount of scorched skin and something that might even have been exposed bone.
She blew out a breath and leaned out of the shadows again. Across the street, her apartment building had slipped back into dark silence. The flashing blue and red lights had finally left. Also gone were the teenagers masquerading as State Police officers, and the solitary gray Ford with its government plates.
She still didn’t understand why the SIU had been called down here. Granted, she was under investigation, but the bombing of her apartment was IIU territory—not State and definitely not SIU.
Maybe she should have arrested those two prostitutes last night. Maybe then her life would have remained sane.
