The Immortals

Taylor took that in. “Hmm. She wasn’t in her bedroom, either?”

“No, a den. Looks like she was doing her homework. She’s on the floor behind the desk. Her mom said she likes to work in the window seat. The dog is lying next to her. He won’t leave her side.”

His voice was thick with sorrow. Taylor empathized. They were all going to be taking turns with the department shrink after this was over. Now they were up to eight. Eight teenagers in a single day. The only way it could get worse was if it had happened at school, with more children witnessing the deaths of their classmates.

A narrow hallway, voices from the kitchen. She caught a glimpse of color-a red blouse, the mother sobbing at the kitchen table-then they were at the entrance to the den. The room was paneled in walnut, small and cozy, with bookshelves lining the walls and a big bay window. Taylor and Sam stepped behind the desk.

A chocolate lab growled at them, the whites of his eyes showing. He dropped his head on his paws and whined, the hackles raised on the back of his neck.

“Down, boy. It’s okay.” She turned to Marcus. “What’s his name?”

“Ranger.”

“Okay, Ranger. ItTs okay.” She inched closer. The dog seemed to sense the inevitable. He bared his teeth and snapped at her, then slowly, as if his bones ached, got to his feet. His back legs hitched as he moved. Hip dysplasia, Taylor noted absently. Poor thing was old.

“You’ve done your job, Ranger. She’ll be safe with us.” As Taylor spoke, she gently eased her hand around the dog’s neck and got ahold of his collar. She could feel him shaking. “He’s exhausted. Okay, sweet boy. Time to go.”

The dog sighed, then allowed himself to be led away. Taylor scratched him behind the ears as she handed him off to Marcus, then turned back to the body.

The girl was petite, blond hair in a disheveled ponytail, strands sneaking out and falling in tendrils around her face. Her lips were blue. She was naked from the waist up, her budding breasts smeared with blood, the top button of her jeans undone. The pentade carved in the long curves on her flat stomach was oozing blood. Her small body started to shake.

“Wait a minute,” Sam said. “Son of a bitch. She’s convulsing.” Taylor saw a small bubble of blood form on the girl’s lip. She stared in dull horror for a moment, then both women leaped to the girl’s side. Taylor pushed her fingers into the girl’s neck, felt a tiny, thready pulsing.

“Get the EMTs! She’s alive.”

The ambulance screamed away into the night, EMTs pumping hard on the girl’s chest, her mother crying, holding her free hand. Taylor stood in the doorway to Brittany Carson’s house. Ranger was cuddled against her legs.

Sam was behind her. She ripped off her gloves, snapped, “It’s been within the last hour. And it’s definitely drugs- her pupils were fixed and pinpoint. Whatever they’ve taken, it’s some kind of narcotic.”

Taylor turned back to her best friend. “Do you think that’s why the dog wouldn’t leave her side? Because he knew she was alive?”

Sam tucked a swoop of bang behind her right ear, then rubbed her hand across her eyes. She suddenly looked older, more harassed. She sighed, then said, “I don’t know. Maybe. If s probably a moot point. She’s lost a lot of blood, and she was cyan otic. All the other bodies were carved up postmortem. Their hearts weren’t pumping blood. Hers was a steady, slow loss. Depending on what she took.. .regardless, it’s definitely more recent than the others.”

Taylor watched her sharply. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just really tired. Can’t seem to catch up on my sleep these days.” Sam stepped away, started loading her gear back into her scene kit.

“Sam?”

“What?”

“You know the last time you looked tired like this?”

“No, when?”

Taylor smiled, crossed her arms. “I don’t know, think back. May be… twenty, twenty-one months ago?”

Sam stopped, still and frozen in time. Her eyes met Taylor’s. “No.”

“I think that’s the wrong answer, Mommy.”

Sam sank into a chair, groaning. “No, no, no! I can’t be. Not yet, not now. I refuse. The twins just had their first birthday. Oh, shit. Simon is going to murder me.”

Taylor laughed at her best friend. “I think he might be thrilled. How far along do you think you are?”

“Hold on, I’m trying to count.” She grew silent for a moment, then said, “I can’t.. .oh, yeah.” She exhaled a laugh and blushed, then looked at Taylor. “I can’t be more than six weeks. Simon had that forensics conference in Denver, and I went with him. We got a suite and a sitter and had ourselves a little night out. I’ve been so freakin’ busy I didn’t even realize I missed my period.”

Taylor kneeled by the chair, swept her into a hug. “Honey, this is the most wonderful news. I’m thrilled for you.”

Sam hugged her back briefly. “Don’t tell anyone, for God’s sake. I need to warn Simon, and get to the OB. Shit, shit, shit.” But she was smiling, and the dark circles under her eyes looked a little less threatening.

Taylor gestured toward the den door. “When you warn him, let him know I may need his services. I seriously doubt you’re going to be able to handle tox and trace for all these crime scenes, and the TBI is backed up for months. We could probably ask Baldwin to send some of the samples to his lab at Quantico, but I’d rather do this quickly and quietly. I’ll arrange for some extra funding to get Simon’s lab to help you out.’* Sam’s husband, Dr. Simon Loughley, ran a firm called Private Match, one of the leading forensic specialty labs in the country. DNA matches for paternity were their bread and butter, which allowed Simon to take on outside work that fascinated him. He was always there in a pinch when Metro needed an immediate turnaround; the Te

She couldn’t wait for their new crime lab to open. The funding was in place, a site selected. Everything was moving forward. No more relying on the kindness of others to get their pressing forensic evidence processed.

The dog whined at the door, jerking Taylor from her reverie.

“Okay. On that happy note, we need to get back to work.” She looked at the blood that had soaked into the carpet where Brittany Carson had lain bleeding to death. ‘Wish we’d gotten here sooner. She might’ve had a better chance.”

“How were you supposed to know? Are you telepathic now?”

“No, but-“

Sam shook her head. “No buts about it. You’re not a mind reader. You’ve got a killer who’s obviously thought this through very, very carefully. I’m praying this is the last call we get tonight.”

A horrible thought dawned in Taylor’s mind. “Do you think he could have been watching, waiting for us to arrive, before he came down here and finished up with Brittany?”

“Watching? Sure. You know how these kooks love to watch. He could have been at one of the houses at the far end of the neighborhood while we were in one of the other residences.”

“Jesus, The media is going to have my head.”

Sam was back to being all professional. She and Sam hadn’t hung out in a few weeks, and Taylor missed her. “Taylor, you’ve done the best you can. Let’s get back, I still have two bodies to declare.”

“Okay. Let me tell Marcus, I’ll need to come back here later.”

She found him in the kitchen, staring hard out the back window into nothingness. His shoulders were slumped in defeat. She knew exactly what was going through his mind. Blame, guilt. Taylor decided to give him the same pep talk Sam had just given her.