Also by Kathy Reichs and Brendan Reichs

VIRALS

SEIZURE

CODE

SHIFT

A VIRALS ADVENTURE

G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS

An Imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS

An imprint of Penguin Young Readers Group.

Published by The Penguin Group.

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Copyright © 2013 by Brennan NextGen LLC.

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Published simultaneously in Canada.

ISBN 978-1-101-63059-4

For Laurie,

who finally came to Charleston.

Contents

Also by Kathy Reichs and Brendan Reichs

Title Page

Dedication

Copyright

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

That Sunday started like any other on Morris Island.

Moms.

Yelling up the stairs.

“Shelton Devers!” Her voice arrowed through my door like it wasn’t even there. “Get out of bed, lazy bones! It’s almost eight thirty.”

“I’m up!” I lied, burrowing deeper into my blankets.

Need my beauty rest.

But I knew a personal visit came next. My mother does not tolerate slacking.

Groaning, I rolled from bed and stumbled to the bathroom, slapping my Avatar poster for luck along the way.

Toilet. Shower. Toothbrush. My brain slowly churned awake.

I was halfway through a second round of flossing—you’ve got to protect your gums—when One Direction blasted from my iMac’s speakers.

New message.

“That’s what makes you beautiful.” Mumbled, as I dropped into my desk chair.

Hey, I don’t care. Haters gonna hate, but them dudes can sing.

I located my glasses—black, box-framed, with inch-thick lenses—and slid them onto my nose. Necessary evil. I’ve tried contacts a thousand times, but can’t pop the little buggers into place. Something about touching my eyeball—I break into shivers just thinking about it.

The world snapped into focus.

An image of the Most Interesting Man in the World filled my screen.

Hiram. Wanting to chat.

“What’s he doing up?” I said aloud.

Mouse click. My new avatar—Donkey Kong preparing to Space Jump—appeared as I typed a response.

Donkey Kong: Takeout or delivery?

TMIMITW: Hilarious.

TMIMITW: Searched level four, but can’t find World Breaker mace. Near Coilfang? Need to increase my critical strike rating!!!

“Rookie,” I muttered, punching in a response.

Donkey Kong: Defeat Fathom-Lord Karathress in the Serpentshrine Cavern. He’ll drop it. Can you handle that? Or is this your first day?

Two cursor blinks, followed by:

TMIMITW: You’re a first day.

TMIMITW: Thanks.

“Any time, noob.” I logged off and hurried downstairs. Drag your feet in my house, you end up cooking your own breakfast.

Luckily, Mom and Dad were just sitting down.

“Don’t mind if I do.” I snagged three silver dollar pancakes. My favorite.

“Big plans today, honey?” my mother asked between bites. Born in Japan, she had a round face and soft, delicate features. That morning, her long black hair was tied in a thick braid. “The weather’s supposed to be gorgeous.”

“None yet.” Words I immediately regretted.

My mother abhorred idleness. A veterinary technician at the Loggerhead Island Research Institute, she viewed work and fun as synonymous, and was frequently surprised when others didn’t. She could strike quickly to fill a hole in my schedule.

And did.

“Well, there’s a speaker on primordial lipoproteins at Charleston University this afternoon.” She sipped orange juice straight from the bottle. Mom didn’t stand on ceremony. “Or you could help me collect sea kelp down at Folly Beach. I’m running toxicity tests, hoping to figure out what’s been causing the bird population—”

“Let the boy alone, Lorelei,” Dad interrupted. Mildly. Nelson Devers was no fool. “It’s the weekend. Shelton probably wants to spend time with his friends.”

“That’s right,” I agreed hastily. “Tory asked me to help train Cooper.”

Dad is ten years older than Mom, a former dockworker from the Bronx who’d joined the Navy and been stationed in Okinawa. They’d met at a Japanese community college where he’d been teaching computer science.

Nelson was the first black man Lorelei ever met. Crazy. When his enlistment was up, they’d married, then moved to Charleston for the weather. I’m the end result.

Dad also worked at LIRI and had just been named IT director. A position that made him Mom’s superior at work. Not that he’d ever point that out.

“Fine.” My mother aimed her fork at me. “But don’t spend your Sunday playing Call of Warfare with Hi and Ben. You need fresh air.”

“Call of Duty,” I corrected. “And I won’t. Promise.”

At that moment, the phone rang. My father scooped up the handset. “Hello?”

As he listened, a frown creased his forehead.

“Who is it?” Mom mouthed.

Dad covered the receiver with his hand. “It’s Kit Howard. There’s been a break-in on Loggerhead—huge headache for him.”

That caught my attention. LIRI was the only thing out there.

Dad listened a few more seconds before agreeing to something and hanging up. Then he rose and carried his plate to the kitchen.

“I have to meet with Kit for a minute.” Rinsing his utensils. “A whole mess of computer equipment was stolen, which makes it my headache, too.”

Buzz buzz.

My iPhone shimmied on the table.

Unlocking the home screen revealed a text from Kit’s daughter, Tory Brennan. One of my closest friends. And my chief tormentor.

Don’t get me wrong, Tory’s cool. Straight-up brilliant, too. But she’s impossibly headstrong, always getting me into trouble.

I stared at the message. Got that sinking feeling in my gut.

This is how it starts. Always always always.

Her “request” was short and sweet: Virals. Outside. Now.

I checked the recipient list, knowing what I’d find. Me. Hiram. Ben.

There are only four Virals in the world.

My pack. Three people with whom I share a special bond. Or a dark secret, depending on your take. Tory’s wolfdog is one of us, too, but that part’s just weird. I try not to think about it. Bad for my digestion.

“Something wrong?”

I glanced up to find my mother studying me.

“No.” Thinking fast. “It’s Tory. She wants to get started with Coop. Stay. Sit. All that stuff. I’d better get going.”

I bused my dishes, then hurried out the door on my father’s heels. Waste too much time and I’d be hauling sea kelp, no matter what Dad said.

Kit was standing on the grassy common that stretched from our town houses to the Atlantic. He’s a bit on the short side, with a close-cut mop of curly brown hair and hazel eyes. That day he wore khaki pants, a blue button-down shirt, and worn loafers. And a grim expression.

Kit had been named director just a few weeks earlier.

LIRI was his responsibility.

A word about the neighborhood.

My friends and I live on Morris Island, a four-mile run of sand hills perched at the entrance to Charleston Harbor. We’re light-years from downtown, with only a single strip of blacktop connecting us to Folly Island and the rest of the world.

No buildings. No people. Nothing but cattails, dunes, and rabbits.

As close to complete wilderness as you can get.

With one exception: our digs.

Built on the ruins of Fort Wagner, an old Civil War fort, our block consists of ten identical town houses owned by the Loggerhead Trust, which also owns LIRI and Loggerhead Island. The Morris units are leased exclusively to LIRI employees working out at the institute.

Ben, Hi, Tory, and I are the only teens living on Morris, making us perhaps the most isolated crew on earth. It’s part of what connects us. That and our super-high, slap-you-silly intelligence. True story.

Here’s the thing: We like books, learning, and—gasp—science, and aren’t afraid to admit it. If other kids think we’re uncool because of that, so what?

I don’t need more friends. I got my pack.

Okay, our main bond is the designer supervirus that scrambled our DNA.

A nasty little pathogen that rewrote our genetic code. Opened evolution’s doors.

Made us Viral, to the core.

The transformation welded us into a unit, but for me the connection started before that, when luck brought four kindred spirits together.

It all tied back to living out here, together, alone in the wild.

Morris Island, represent.

Kit was talking with a woman I didn’t recognize. Definitely not his dingbat girlfriend, Whitney. That ditz traveled in a cloud of perfume you could smell a football field away.

Spotting my dad, Kit waved him over. The adults began speaking in hushed tones.

I snuck past them to greet Tory, who was hustling down her steps with Coop.

“What’s the word, Brennan?”

She held up a hand. “Let’s wait for the others.”

Don’t like the sound of that.

Tory is tall and thin, with red hair that hangs midway down her back. Pretty. Maybe more than pretty when she smiles. Piercing green eyes. Pale skin. A healthy dose of freckles. Definitely maybe, though she’s like a sister to me.

Tory moved to Morris last year, after her mom was killed by a drunk driver. Must’ve been terrible. She doesn’t talk about it, and I don’t pry. I’m just glad she’s here.

The whole thing was like something out of a movie—before Tory came to live with Kit, they’d never even met! Her biological dad, but a complete stranger. She still calls him by first name.

Those two make a strange pair. Neither seems to know what to do with the other, though they get along pretty well.

Nuts, huh? But that’s life, I guess.

I squatted to scratch Coop’s gray-brown ears.

He turned deep blue eyes on me, then nuzzled my hand, relishing the attention.

The love child of a gray wolf and stray German shepherd, Coop had grown to nearly seventy pounds. Not a beast you wanna mess with.

Everything Viral started with the wolfdog.

Patient Zero.

We were infected by the superbug while rescuing Coop, who was being used as a medical test subject. Unfortunately for us, the germ was contagious to humans. The newborn invader unzipped our human chromosomes and jammed canine genes inside.

We’d gotten sick. Really sick. Headaches. Sweats. Chills. Even blackouts.

And worse. Animal urges. Canine impulses.

A total nightmare, but the madness eventually passed.

That’s when we discovered our powers. When we learned how to flare.

We developed abilities no one else on the planet possesses. Or can even fathom.

Physical strength. Sensory acuity. A host of other skills we’re still figuring out.

So I guess I shouldn’t complain. No virus? No flare power. No pack.

Our minds wouldn’t have connected. Would never have melded.

I suppressed a shiver. I didn’t understand the mental stuff, left that to Tory. But the four of us shared some weird telepathic bond. Coop, too. Maybe it sprang from the canine DNA. Maybe it’s something all wolves possess.

I didn’t know. Didn’t like to dwell on it. We couldn’t control it anyway.

Coop lived with Tory, but spent most of his days roaming Morris, terrorizing the local rodents. I’m just glad the mutt’s on our side.

I rose, jabbed a thumb over my shoulder. “Who’s the chick with Kit?”

“My aunt Tempe. She’s visiting for the weekend.”

“Oh my.” I spun for a better look.

I’d heard all about Dr. Temperance Brennan, World-Famous Forensic Anthropologist.

She’s Tory’s idol. The girl never stops talking about her.

Dr. Brennan seemed in good shape for an older lady. Late forties. Dark blond hair, hazel eyes. She wore jeans and a Northwestern tee as she huddled with Kit and Dad.

“Here comes Hi.” Tory was looking over my shoulder. “Finally.”

I could feel her impatience. Tory with an idea surges forward like a tidal wave.

And I get dragged by the undertow.

Hiram closed his front door, yawned, and lumbered down the steps. He isn’t the rushing type. Rosy-cheeked, portly, with a quick wit and razor-sharp tongue, Hi’s the most sarcastic kid I know. It can be hard getting him to take something seriously.

Hi scratched his wavy brown hair, then stretched. “A little early for booty calls, Tory.” He wore yellow pajama pants paired with a brown FOMO T-shirt.

“Funny.”

Tory crossed her arms. Glanced at her watch. She practically oozed impatience.

Hi reached down and patted Coop’s back. “Hey, killer. Eat any squirrels today?”

Finally, Ben Blue strolled up in his usual black tee and shorts.

At sixteen, Ben was the oldest member of our pack. He’s five foot ten and rock solid, with dark eyes and shoulder-length black hair, a by- product of Native American roots. Ben sported a deep tan, earned by countless hours spent aboard Sewee, his prized Boston Whaler runabout.

Ben lived in the end unit with his father, Tom Blue, who operated LIRI’s shuttle service between Morris, Loggerhead, and downtown Charleston. Ben’s mother, Myra, lived in a Mount Pleasant condo just across the bay.

Ben cocked his head toward the adults. “That about the break-in?”

Tory nodded. “Kit’s pretty worked up. Last night, somebody stole a bunch of equipment from Lab Three. Kit needs to figure out exactly what’s missing.”

As Tory spoke, my dad turned and headed back toward our unit. Kit and Tempe walked over to join us.

Tory ordered Coop to sit. Stay. She really was training him, with mixed results. That wolfdog could be as obstinate as his owner.

“Nothing to worry about,” Kit said brightly, though his expression suggested otherwise. “Just some funny business out at LIRI. Nelson is going to check our inventory and we’ll get it sorted.”

“What was taken?” Tory’s scowl mirrored Ben’s.

“More like what wasn’t.” Kit shook his head. “Lab Three was ransacked. Laptops, three blade servers, the moisture/solid analyzer, a centrifuge, the nanoparticle tracking system, a pair of microscopes, some other items.” He nearly sighed. “Pricey things, all of them. Whoever broke in knew what he was doing.”

“Or she,” Tempe corrected. “Or they.”

“What about the security tapes?” Tory was laser-focused. “Or the live video feed? Where was security?”

“Electronic surveillance was down last night.” Kit waved a hand in frustration. “Maintenance. At midnight, the whole system went offline for program upgrades. Like I said, this—” a glance at Tempe, “—person or persons knew the score. They broke into Lab Three, cleaned house, and then slipped out with the equipment undetected. What I’ve got to figure out is how.”

“The service elevator,” Tory said without hesitation. “With the cameras off, the guards would be blind to its movement. And what about the dock? They must’ve gotten the stuff out by boat.”

Kit half smiled. “My thoughts as well. But don’t you worry about this, kiddo. Hudson has his security crew investigating, and we’ll file a police report. Plus, LIRI has insurance for this very reason.”

“I know a few detectives at CPD,” Tempe said. “They’re good. And CSU will turn that lab upside down and inside out. If there’s a speck of evidence, they’ll find it. Take that to the bank.”

Tempe’s effect on Tory was comic.

She straightened like a soldier under inspection. “Of course, Aunt Tempe.”

But I knew that look. Recognized wheels turning behind Tory’s eyes.

Butterflies took wing in my stomach. It didn’t take a mind reader to see that Tory wanted to impress her aunt.

“I’m heading out there to assess the damage.” Kit cast a hopeful look at Tempe. “I wouldn’t mind if you came along. A forensics expert might come in handy this morning.”

“At your service.”

With that, the pair excused themselves and headed inside.

Tory watched them go.

She got that stubborn set to her jaw, as if a challenge had been made.

The butterflies became hummingbirds.

She’ll jump in. And drag us all along, like always.

Hi sensed it, too. “Should I go change clothes?” The fool sounded eager.

“Meet by the dock in five.” Tory was already moving. “We need to get to Loggerhead first.”

Ben smirked but shrugged his agreement. Hi gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

I sighed. There was no point arguing.

“Fine. But let’s at least try not to get into trouble?”

I’m not sure Tory heard me. She was halfway up her stairs, Coop at her side.

I pushed my glasses back up the bridge of my nose.

Gonna be one of those days.

I hustled inside and grabbed the keys to Sewee.

The old man was out in Hugo, shuttling people as usual. Not that he’d have bothered me. Tom Blue wasn’t that type of dad.

Keys in hand, I hurried back outside and down to the Morris Island dock. I was quickest, as usual, so I prepped my boat while the others took their sweet time.

Checking the outboard motor, I couldn’t help but laugh at Dr. Howard. Once again, he had no idea what Tory was planning. She’d slip right under his nose, as usual.

For a smart guy, Kit was clueless. He never saw what was coming next.

Not with Tory.

Not like me.

Tory’s aunt might be wise, though. She’s no dummy.

I shook my head. In the end, Tory would get her way. Always did. Her insisting the Virals investigate the break-in had been the least shocking thing in the world. She lived for mysteries like this. It’s what I liked most about her.

Not that there was much I didn’t like.

A sigh escaped my lips. I glanced around quickly, making sure no one heard.

Just get the boat ready, Ben.

Footsteps thumped on the wooden planks. I looked up to see the doofus twins. Hi now wore red plaid shorts, a sky-blue pocket tee, and slip-on, black-and-white checkerboard-print sneakers. Shelton sported a white polo and green basketball shorts. Neither of those guys could dress worth spit.

I hadn’t changed clothes. Didn’t feel the need.

I spotted movement on the hill—Tory, jogging down from the townhomes.

No wolfdog?

She’d stuck with her gray Outward Bound tee and tan shorts, but had pulled her hair back in a ponytail. Even dressed down, she was beautiful.

Not model gorgeous, or anything fake like that, but . . . striking. I can’t really explain it.

And what’s the point in trying? We’re just friends.

And even if you weren’t, she’s out of your league.

Irritated, I brushed the thought away. But knew it was true.

Tory was destined for Big Things. Renown. Honors. Any dope could see that.

Me? I just hoped to land a gig like Dad’s shuttle route. Work outdoors.

“We should design matching outfits.” Hi stepped aboard and bounded into the passenger chair. “Crime fighters usually wear sweet gear. And helmets.”

“We’re not crime fighters.” Shelton flopped onto the aft bench. “And I’m putting this whole trip under protest. Messing with a real-deal crime? At LIRI? We’re headed for disaster. You heard it here first.”

I caught Hiram’s eye, then pointed to the bench beside Shelton.

“Boo.” But he complied. We went through this almost every time.

The copilot seat was for Tory.

“You had better plans today?” Not a boating enthusiast, Hi was already snapping on a life jacket. “We’re investigating actual criminal activity. How cool is that?”

Shelton snorted. “We might get busted for obstructing justice. How’s that gonna play at your house?”

Hi tightened the final strap. “Lots of extra time at temple. I’ll survive.”

“Stow those lines.” I pointed to a pair of ropes securing the stern. “And hustle up, you know she’ll want a quick getaway.”

Though I kept it to myself, I actually agreed with Hi. The day was looking way more interesting than when I got up.

“Take it easy on the way out, Blue.” Hi grimaced while coiling a length of thick nylon. “I haven’t puked in days, so I’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Not on my deck,” I warned, well aware of Hi’s weak stomach. “Aim overboard.”

I unhooked the bowline, double-checked the buoys, then slipped into the captain’s chair. My favorite spot on earth.

Tory bounced aboard. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

“Since you asked so nicely.” But I fired the ignition.

“No Bow Wow?” Hi said.

Tory shook her head. “Unfortunately, Coop’s not well suited for this type of trip.”

“See!” Shelton slapped his forehead. “We are gonna buzz the crime scene!”

Tory simply winked.

Maneuvering Sewee from the dock, I spun her clockwise and hit the throttle. Spray kicked up on both sides as we knifed across the breakers.

I almost grinned with pleasure. But I’m not the smiley type.

“Once more, it begins.” Hi’s face was green. “We need a helicopter.”

“Take the shortcut,” Tory instructed. “Please,” she added, as if suddenly aware she’d been barking orders.

In truth, I didn’t mind. Despite being youngest, Tory was our unacknowledged leader. She had the knack. I was okay with her making most of the decisions.

Not that I’d ever let that on.

I nosed Sewee toward a warren of sandbars a hundred yards offshore. Only shallow-draft vessels like my runabout can negotiate them, and even then you need to know the proper route.

Not many did besides me. A point of pride.

After a few twists and turns, accompanied by Hi’s groans, we cleared the maze and hit open water. Morris receded behind us. Moments later a tiny landmass took shape on the horizon. Gradually, the green-brown blur sharpened into an island.

As we motored close, details emerged. A bone-white beach fronting high-canopied trees. Thick, tangled undergrowth. Gentle waves, spinning eddies in the wet sand. Not a building in sight.

I cut the engine and let Sewee drift. A habit of mine. You never know what you might see, if you’re quiet.

A hawk shrieked from the gloom of the island’s interior. Crickets hummed. Palmetto palms swished and rattled in the breeze.

And everywhere, the hooting of monkeys.

No matter how often I visited, Loggerhead Island always gave me a thrill.

A wild, untamed place, forgotten by time. Shrouded in mystery.

“We’re in a bit of a hurry.” Tory. Gently.

My expression soured, but I restarted the engine. We cruised down the shoreline, headed for Loggerhead’s southernmost point. Minutes later I pulled Sewee alongside the island’s single dock.

A glance spurred Hi and Shelton into position. As I eased close they tossed the ropes, then scrambled up to tie us off. I killed the motor.

“Permission to disembark, sir?” Tory had one foot on the quay. She knew I liked being captain, and was half apologizing for bossing me around.

“Granted.” I tapped my watch. “Shore leave, two hours.”

“Then we’d better dash.”

One final boat-check, then I followed the others down the pier. They waited where the paving stones gave way to a packed-earth trail, as close to a permanent road as you’ll find on the island.

Barely half a square mile, Loggerhead is even smaller than Morris. No permanent structures exist anywhere outside the LIRI compound.

We climbed a steep path and hiked into the woods.

The hooting gave way to howling.

“Monkey Town seems riled today.” Hi was scanning the canopy. “Banana crisis?”

The central forest is home to Loggerhead’s boisterous rhesus monkey colony. Dozens of free-ranging troops, squabbling in the trees or at feeder stations scattered about the woods.

No cages or corrals. The crafty little buggers go where they please. It’s not like they can escape—there’s nowhere to go.

The LIRI compound is fenced to keep them out, not in.

But yammering primates aren’t the only game in town. Cooper’s wolfpack family still patrols the woods. Every year, loggerhead sea turtles breed on the island’s protected beaches. Endangered seabirds nest in the tidal marshes. Deer, boar, duck, fox, raccoon, and dozens of other woodland critters inhabit the ponds, dunes, glades, and meadows.

Pure, undisturbed nature. Peace and quiet. Well, except for the monkeys.

I love the place. It’s one of a kind.

Cresting the final rise, we headed down a gentle slope toward LIRI’s front gate.

Which stood open. Weird.

I looked around. None of the dopey rent-a-cops were in sight.

“Where to now?” Hi asked as we reached the chain-link barrier.

“Lab Three,” Tory answered. “Scene of the crime.”

“Inside Building One,” Shelton pointed out needlessly. “Which means dealing with security.”

“Which means Hudson,” Hi finished. “Gonna be a problem.”

Terrific.

If anyone could ruin my day, it was that guy.

Ben was already scowling.

Never a good sign.

Tory turned and gave me her Serious Face.

“Hiram.” She forced eye contact. “We need to get by security without a fuss. So keep the jokes in check, um-kay?”

“Scusi?” I raised both palms in shocked affront. “Those dudes freaking love me. We’re talking about forming a boy band. Techno-pop stuff.”

Her eyes rolled. “We need access to Lab Three. That’s not gonna happen if they call Kit to confirm we’re allowed upstairs. Which is what they’ll do if you piss them off. So don’t. Capisce?”

“Totes.” I flashed my patented thumbs-up. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

Tory’s expression remained skeptical.

I doubled the thumbs-up. Smiled wide.

“God help us.”

With that, she strode toward Building One, the rest of us a step behind.

The LIRI complex is bombtastic. Totally baller. It consists of a dozen modern glass-and-steel structures surrounded by an eight-foot chain-link fence.

Only two ways in: the main gate we’d just invaded, and a smaller one around back. Security is tight: motion-sensing cameras, keypad entries, auto-locks, you name it.

Hidden in the woods, the place felt like a Bond villain’s secret hideout.

Translation: I heart LIRI.

The larger buildings consist mainly of offices, conference rooms, and research labs. The smaller ones are mostly sheds, workshops, and garages that store the institute’s heavy equipment and supplies.

Building One houses LIRI’s executive suite, administration hubs, the most primo offices, and the three largest labs.

And security headquarters, unfortunately.

My dad, Linus, worked in there, too. Kit had just promoted him to the exalted position of chief lab tech, which completely rocked. The Stolowitski clan’s rise to power cannot be stopped.

I knew Pops would be crapping his shorts about the stolen equipment. The theft was as much in his domain as Shelton’s dad's.

So let’s solve this bad boy. It’s Big Shot time.

Tory paused outside the building’s hermetically sealed entrance.

Her shoulders rose. Fell. Then she marched straight through the sliding glass doors.

Shelton and I followed. Ben brought up the rear, as usual.

Tory had the coolest head. In tight spots, we usually let her do the talking.

Sometimes, of course, I couldn’t help myself. I’m not made of stone, and these clowns were such easy targets.

Our luck was bad.

Security Chief David Hudson was manning the kiosk.

He stood as we approached, hands robotically smoothing a meticulously pressed uniform. Hudson was somewhere north of forty, with close-cropped gray hair.

His mouth formed a hard line, eyes suspicious.

Polished shoes gleaming, Hudson stepped from the kiosk to block our entrance. Hips squared, he stuck out one hand. “State your business.”

Ermahgerd. What a toolbox.

“Good morning, Chief Hudson.” Tory flashed her dimples at Robocop. “We’re headed to Lab One. My father asked me to check something for him.”

“I have no order to that effect.”

“Kit will be here in a few minutes. He’ll fill you in.”

“You’ll have to wait until Director Howard arrives.” His expression soured, like he’d just caught whiff of a horrific fart. “A crime has been committed on these premises. My premises. Perpetrators unknown. Therefore, I’ve sealed the building until further notice.”

Hudson’s eyes narrowed, as if suddenly considering a new group of suspects.

“I’m afraid we can’t wait.” Tory fumbled for words. “You see, thing is, um . . .”

I stepped forward, ignoring her warning glance.

I couldn’t help it. This guy was a big pile of stupid.

“This is an emergency, Chief.” I waggled an index finger. “The midi-chlorians have already been isolated by centrifuge. If we don’t take a blood count now, the samples will be useless.”

Hudson blinked. “Midi-what?”

I nodded companionably. “Midi-chlorians. Our flux capacitor has isolated their Force-rendering properties in the organelles of a rare species of Arctic tauntaun. Professor Vader at, uh . . . Dagobah University is extremely excited.”

More confident nodding.

Hudson’s rigid façade cracked, ever so slightly.

He grabbed a folder from his booth and began flipping pages. “Is Vader a visiting researcher? I assume De-go-ba is a foreign institution.”

“Correct.” I spoke fast, knowing confusion was key. “Just outside of Hoth. Dr. Vader asked Director Howard to monitor his Jeffries tubes, so that the . . . uh, the proper gigawatts, weren’t too, um . . .”

Inspiration fled. I floundered.

Luckily, Shelton stepped into the breach.

“So the Sith Foundation doesn’t have to repeat the chemical displacement process.” Shelton yanked his earlobe, a nervous habit. “That’d be a logistical nightmare.”

“You’re telling me!” Recovered, I flashed wide eyes at Hudson. “This experiment has been running for months.”

I could sense Chief Jackass wavering.

Time for the stick.

My voice dropped to a serious tone. “Kit would be here himself, right now, if he didn’t have this awful security breach to deal with.”

Hudson winced. His department, and he knew it.

I was preparing my finishing move, but Tory beat me to the punch.

“We can wait down here if you’d like.” Innocent. Then she twisted the knife. “But if those samples expire, my dad will freak. I’m not sure his temper can handle another disappointment this morning.”

Hudson stiffened. Then he jabbed a finger at a clipboard on the counter.

“Sign.”

I heard Ben snort, then cover it with a cough.

Shelton’s foot tapped mile a minute.

Tory carefully printed and signed her name, trying not to appear hurried.

I struggled to keep a neutral face.

Tory laid down the pen. “We’ll be in Lab One.”

Hudson hesitated. Seemed on the verge of changing his mind.

And now, the carrot.

“Good work today, Chief.” I extended my hand. “We heard Kit bragging that you’re the only reason the thieves didn’t swipe everything not nailed down. The thin blue line, he called you. Don’t quote me on this, but you might be in line for a commendation. Like, an accomplishment medal. Super, great stuff.”

“Yes. Well.” Hudson accepted the handshake distractedly. “That was nice of him to say.”

I caught Tory’s eye. Tipped my head toward the stairs.

“We won’t be long.” Tory strode past Hudson without glancing back. Shelton was practically in her back pocket. Ben sauntered in their wake, a wry look on his face.

Hudson watched them go, eye uncertain. His lips parted as if to call them back.

I leaned in conspiratorially. “I also overheard Director Howard say he planned to review your findings first thing.”

Hudson started, as if he’d forgotten I was there.

“He was awfully upset.” Left-eye wink. “I’d have that report buttoned up, if I were you. Word to the wise.” Right-eye wink.

“Yes. Yes of course.”

“Okay, then.” I clapped Hudson’s shoulder, then hurried down the hallway, trying not to laugh. What a maroon.

“Oh, Mr. Stolowitski?”

I froze. Worried the shoulder tap had pushed it too far.

“Yes?” Swiveling to face him.

“Thieves may be hiding somewhere on this island.” Hudson gave me a hard look. “I’ll inform your father you’re here. Just to be safe.”

“Excellent.” Crap crap crap. “Saves me the trouble.”

I hustled to join the others by the elevator.

Problem: Dad didn’t know I was coming out to Loggerhead that morning. And if he called home, Mom would find out I’d lied about my plans.

That meant trouble.

Ruth Stolowitski was not to be trifled with, especially by her own son.

She’d swim out here if she thought I’d played her.

I caught up with the gang just as the elevator arrived. Tory entered and pressed three. Waited until the doors closed.

“Midi-chlorians?” She grabbed the bridge of her nose. “Dagobah University?”

I shrugged. “Hey, it worked.”

Her hands flew up. “Why couldn’t you keep it simple? Or believable?”

“Because unlikely and complicated are easier to sell. That’s a fact. Besides, what are the odds Lieutenant Fake Cop has ever watched a Star Wars movie? Is there a number less than zero?”

“Negative one,” Shelton said. “And I can’t believe you said ‘a species of tauntaun.’”

“Arctic tauntaun,” I corrected. “Personally, I thought ‘Dr. Vader’ was the low point. But we got away with it, that’s all that matters. Almost, anyway.”

Ben laid a hand my shoulder. “Almost, Thick Burger?”

He squeezed. I swear my collarbones creaked.

“Unhand me! You’re tearing my rotator cuff!”

Ben released his grip. I rubbed my aching limb. “If you ruined my baseball career, you’ll hear from my lawyer.”

“Hi!” Tory clapped her hands in agitation. “Explain.”

“No biggie.” I flexed my shoulder, casting accusatory glances at Ben. “But Hudson’s gonna tell my father we’re here. And he could come looking for me, since I gave my mom a different explanation of our whereabouts.”

“I don’t want to know.” Shelton’s palms covered his glasses. “Wait. Yes, I do. Where are we supposed to be right now?”

“I told her we were going to a shark festival.” Offhand. “In Walterboro.”

Ben chuckled. Tory’s eyes found the ceiling.

“That doesn’t even make sense!” Shelton’s hands shot outward. “And nobody goes to Walterboro. Why do you do that?”

“Conceptually, it’s hard to visualize,” I agreed. “Maybe it’s more of a film society than a traditional festival. Or a Jaws fan-fiction conference.”

Mercifully, the elevator doors opened.

“Enough.” Tory stepped into the hall. Lights off. No one in sight. “Let’s hurry, we don’t have much time.”

The third level consisted of offices, the smaller Lab Two, and the sprawling Lab Three. A cubicle village filled the center of the floor. From where we stood, narrow hallways ran left and right.

Though usually packed with lab-coated techs and scientists, that day the corridors were deserted.

“Coast’s clear.” Tory hurried down the left-hand passage to a well-lit chamber spanning the building’s eastern end. A floor-to-ceiling Plexiglas wall separated the room from the corridor, which turned ninety degrees and continued to the building’s rear.

“Whoa boy.” Shelton’s eyes bugged behind his lenses.

Lab Three was a showroom-sized rectangle, interspaced by half-a-dozen workstations in the room’s middle. Industrial-sized storage cabinets lined the windowless outer walls, with a bolted stainless-steel countertop running just beneath.

“Jeeeeeez.” I understood Shelton’s astonishment.

When I’d last visited with my dad, Lab Three had been jammed with all kinds of dope equipment. Like a scene from an outbreak movie.

Now it looked like a war zone.

Workstations were stripped. Cut wires hung from tabletops. A computer bank was completely missing, its security cables severed. Servers, modems, routers, you name it. All gone.

Files lay scattered everywhere. Broken glass covered the floor. Several cabinet doors stood ajar, their contents smashed, scattered, or missing.

“This place was freaking trashed,” Shelton squawked. “It’s like a tornado passed through here.”

I knelt beside pile of empty drawers. “Whoever did this didn’t make any attempt to conceal their crime. It was a smash and grab, pure and simple.”

Tory’s eyes were roving the room. “We need a plan.”

“Looks like ninja work,” I quipped. “We should check for throwing stars.”

Ben shot me a look, but my excitement grew unchecked.

Honestly? I was thrilled.

Not that LIRI had been jacked. Or that Lab Three had been totaled. That was all uncool.

I was stoked because we were standing at the scene of a legitimate crime. A true heist. A bona fide whodunit.

And the Virals had a chance to solve it.

Finally, some action.

I was about to crack a joke, but the look on Tory’s face made me reconsider.

She was horrified. As though her own home had been robbed.

Horrified and very, very angry.

Then Tory’s expression morphed to another I knew well.

Eyes narrowed. Teeth gritted. I’d seen it before.

Her hands found her hips.

Tory Brennan was thinking. Planning. Weighing options. Making choices.

Tory’s the only person in the world smarter than me. She could cut to the heart of any problem. I’d follow her lead anywhere.

And she’s kinda crazy, too, which makes her fun.

I shelved the urge to spout one-liners. Put on my game face. Got ready to rumble.

It was time to make someone regret messing with our turf.

Unclenching my fists, I tried to quell my anger.

Hi was looking at me strangely. Was that eagerness on his face?

“Tory?” Shelton was nervously eyeing the empty hallway. “What’s our play?”

“We search this lab,” I replied. “Top to bottom. Let’s divide the room into sections and each take one.”

“What are we looking for?” Ben asked.

“Trace evidence. Hairs, fibers, paint chips, anything that looks out of place. Watch for strange marks, too. Scratches or scrapes. If we can determine how the robbers operated, we’ll know more of what to look for.”

“Careful what you touch,” Shelton warned. “The police haven’t been here yet. We don’t want to implicate ourselves.”

“Good thinking.” I scanned the open cabinets, spotted a package of latex gloves. Stepping carefully, I walked over and snagged the box. “Everyone grab a pair.”

Properly gloved, we each moved to our assigned sector.

Needle in a haystack.

I shoved the thought aside. All forensics was a needle hunt.

My thoughts flew to Aunt Tempe. How impressed she’d be if we helped crack the case. That weekend, my hero worship was full-blown.

Being honest with myself, wowing Tempe was the reason I wanted to investigate.

Then pay attention. A wandering mind misses clues.

I combed my zone systematically, front to back.

I’d chosen the far-left quadrant, which ran along the wall. Bringing my face close, I inspected the countertop, nose inches from the gleaming steel. Then I moved to the first of two workstations in my area. Shattered glass covered its surface. A scuffed area marked the former position of an electron microscope. The second station had once held a computer terminal. Now only stripped wires remained.

Minutes ticked by. Five. Ten. Twenty.

I didn’t need Shelton’s grumbles to know we were running out of time.

“Nothing,” Ben called from the other side of the room.

“Same,” Shelton echoed.

Hi was back where he’d started, a frown crimping his features. “I got squadoosh. Anyone know a good psychic?”

I felt discouraged. Smothered it. “We do it again.”

The boys watched me, saying nothing.

“We’ve only done one pass!” I gestured to the chaos covering the floor. “You’re sure you didn’t miss anything, in all that?”

Shelton tugged his ear. “The cops are on the way, Tor.”

“And your dad,” Ben added. “I’m surprised no one’s here yet.”

“Then we shouldn’t waste time chatting.” I made shooing gestures with my hands. “Get to work.”

A few looks, but the boys did as I asked. I knew they would. In moments we were all on hands and knees, combing the floor for anything useful.

I was starting to despair, when I spotted something.

There. By the base of the wall.

A tiny brown sliver.

I dropped to my belly and shimmied under the counter.

“Tory?” Hi had completed his second sweep. “Find a cookie?”

“I think . . . there’s something . . .” Moving cautiously, I plucked the tiny splinter between my thumb and index finger, then gingerly scootched backward and stood.

“Whadayagot?” Shelton was shirt-wiping his glasses. “Because my section is Zero Town, population nothing. Unless you like broken beakers.”

I peered intently at my find. “It’s wood. A chip.”

“The case breaker!” Ben said sarcastically. “Call the feds!”

My head shook in annoyance. “It doesn’t match anything, though. At least, nothing that I’ve seen over here.” My eyes scoured the rest of Lab Three for anything that might explain the tiny wedge.

The boys looked, too. Spotted nothing likely.

“The only wooden items are the cabinets,” I said.

“And several were crowbarred. Look.” Ben lifted a cabinet door that had been ripped from its hinges.

“But the cabinet wood is totally different.” I held the sliver close to one. “These doors are made of processed boards. Some kind of composite material, held together by adhesive.”

“They’re also lighter in color,” Hi added. “And layered, to be more pliable. That chip came from something else.”

Hi turned to Ben. “Check the lab for anything else made of wood. And make sure the other cabinets are identical to this one.”

Ben’s hands found his pockets. “I don’t think so.”

“Got it.” Hi swiveled back to me. “I’ll check the lab for anything else made of wood and make sure the other cabinets are identical to this one.”

“Good plan,” Ben said.

“I’ll help,” Shelton said. “We should be hustling.”

The two boys hurried to make another sweep.

I rotated the splinter in the palm of my hand. Triangular shape. Two sides rougher than the third, which was darker, smooth, and worn.

Holding the fragment up to the light, I noticed the grain was barely detectable.

And something else.

“There’s goop on this.” I tilted my hand back and forth, watching the light play over the chip’s surface. “A coating. Or residue. Sticky.”

Impulsively, I held it under my nose. “It smells like . . . nuts.”

“Nuts?” Ben scoffed. “Sure you’re not just hungry?”

“Zip it.” I sniffed again. “Maybe . . . more like grass. Or tree sap. I know I’m not making sense.”

Hi and Shelton rejoined us.

“No other wood,” Hi confirmed. “That specimen appears to be a foreign particle.”

“Which doesn’t necessarily mean it’s related to the break-in,” Shelton countered. “It could’ve hitched a ride in here on someone’s shoe. For all we know, it’s been there for weeks.”

“It’s a place to start.” I dropped the chip into a plastic glove, tied off the opening, and slipped the makeshift specimen bag into my pocket.

Hi rubbed his hands together. “What next? Should we start some interrogations?”

“Let me think.” Unnecessarily waving for quiet.

The boys waited. They trusted my instincts, and my ability to discern patterns. Skills that had served us well before.

Except now you’ve got nothing.

Just a slice of wood that doesn’t match the local wood.

An idea took root.

I moved to the closest shattered cabinet. “This was hacked open, right?”

“More like pried.” Ben pointed to deep gouges where the door met its frame. “See how the wood split, right at the edge? Someone jammed an object into the gap, then wedged it open.”

The idea congealed into a theory.

“A tool.” My mind was fitting pieces even as I spoke. “The robber must’ve used an implement to crack them. Some sort of lever.”

Three blank looks.

I tapped my pocket. “This splinter isn’t from the doors. It’s from the tool.”

Ben’s brows formed a V. “The instrument had to be metal, Tory. These doors fractured under some pretty serious force. I don’t think something wooden could’ve done the job without leaving at lot more splinters. My guess is they used a crowbar. Pure steel.”

“Okay.” Thinking furiously. “Damn.”

Shelton spoke up. “What if the wedging part was metal but the handle was made of wood?”

“Like an ax?” Hi rubbed his chin. “You think Jason Voorhees might be our man?”

“I’m just saying. Lots of tools have wooden grips.”

“Wait.” I squinted at nothing. “Hold up a sec.”

Hi’s mouth opened, but Ben snagged his arm. “Let her think.”

I barely noticed. Blocked them out. Tried to pin down what was bothering me.

Loggerhead. LIRI security. A shattered lab. All that missing equipment.

Something doesn’t track.

I considered the evidence, one point at a time.

“This crime. It’s odd.” I began to pace. “No alarms, no video, no record of any kind.”

“Happened during the software upgrade,” Shelton reminded. “They got lucky.”

“Not a chance.” Back and forth. “The thieves knew.”

The issue nagging at me came into sharper focus. “This heist was too neat and too dirty. Outside of this room, there are no kicked-in doors, smashed locks, or downed gates. Nothing to indicate a break-in occurred at all.”

I swept an arm around the room. “Until you get in here. Inside this lab.”

I froze, the answer on the tip of my tongue.

Muffled steps sounded in the hall.

“Move!” Ben hissed.

In a panic we bolted from Lab Three, Hi closing the door behind us. We booked down the corridor to the back of the building, around the corner, and up another dark hallway, putting the maze of cubicles between the noise and us.

We stopped. Listened hard.

Someone coughed. More footfalls.

I heard Kit’s voice, followed by a gruff tenor I didn’t recognize.

“Police?” Hi mouthed.

I shrugged.

I peeked over a cubicle wall. The elevators were directly across from where we were crouched. One set of doors was closing, the new arrivals already moving toward Lab Three.

Waving the others to follow, I continued to the west end of the building, turned another corner, and bolted for a stairwell dead ahead.

Thirty adrenaline-pumped seconds later, we were back on the ground floor.

“That was fun.” Hi was red-faced and puffing. “Hope no one left anything behind.”

“This way,” I whispered, stripping off the latex gloves and stuffing them in my back pocket. The others quickly followed suit.

Our next move had occurred to me in mid-flight.

“Where?” Shelton hissed, but I was already marching to the security desk.

As I’d suspected, Hudson was nowhere in sight. He’d undoubtedly gone upstairs with Kit and the others.

Another guard was sitting in the kiosk.

“Carl!” I called brightly. “How are you today?”

Carl Szuberla looked up from his magazine, expression guarded.

He’d probably been chewed out at least once today already. Hudson seemed the type to blame his subordinates if something went wrong.

“Hello, Miss Brennan.” Built like a lumpy bowling ball, Carl’s immense girth was jammed into a sky-blue uniform barely able to contain it. “Director Howard just went upstairs.”

His expression abruptly clouded. It must’ve occurred to him we’d come from inside the building, not out.

Though reliable, Carl was not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

He was perfect.

“Right. Kit sent me down with a question.” Assertively. “He wants to know whether the gates were opened at any point last night.”

Carl’s piggish face bunched into a knot. “Why didn’t he ask the chief? Hudson worked the graveyard shift, not me.”

“Kit wants the log checked. No stone unturned. That kind of thing.”

Sighing, Carl rose and waddled into the communications room. A few moments later he returned. “Neither gate was opened last night.”

“But wasn’t the electronic system down?” Shelton asked. “How can you be sure?”

“Both gates are zip-tied during any system maintenance.” Carl tapped his logbook. “Chief Hudson noted that both ties were in place this morning.”

“Excellent.” I headed for the exit. “Thanks so much.”

“Wait.” Carl gestured toward the elevator. “Aren’t you going to inform Dr. Howard?”

“I’ll text him. Thanks again!”

We hurried through the doors, down the steps, and into the courtyard.

LIRI is arranged in two lines of six buildings each, facing one another across a large central green. Flower-lined paths crisscross the courtyard, with stone benches set at intervals for those seeking fresh air.

I beelined to a grouping in the center of the quad.

“Ready to explain?” Hi dropped onto one of the benches. “Because I just exceeded a walking pace, and that’s not my thing.”

I did a quick 360 to see if anyone was within earshot, then motioned for the others to huddle close. With varying degrees of enthusiasm, they obeyed.

“I’ve got it.”

“Got what?” Ben asked. “Dementia?”

“The answer.” Hitching my thumbs into my armpits. “I’ve solved the case.”

“Inconceivable,” Shelton said. “Because I’m more lost than ever.”

I bounced on my tiptoes. Popped an eyebrow a few times for effect.

“You’re annoying me,” Hi stated. “Stop it, please.”

“Why was Lab Three the only room smashed?” I asked. “How come the rest of Building One didn’t suffer the same treatment?”

“Access,” Hi said. “The thief, or thieves, had a way into the building, but not the laboratory.”

“Very good. And how is that possible?”

No response. I was enjoying this.

“Because—” I drew out the word, “—the raid was an inside job.”

“Pssh.” Hi slumped back on the bench. “I’ve thought that from the beginning. The police will, too. How else would the crooks know exactly when the security system was down?”

“Okay, hotshot,” I challenged. “Then who did it?”

“I don’t know.” Hi crossed his arms. “You don’t either.”

“Who has access to the buildings, but not the labs?” I asked. “Yet would also know when the security system was down for maintenance?”

“A LIRI regular.” Shelton’s face lit up. “But someone not on the scientific staff! Otherwise, the robbers would’ve known the proper codes, or had keys, and wouldn’t have needed to tear up the room!”

Ben nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Okay.” Hi began gnawing his thumbnail. “So we’ve narrowed the profile to a LIRI employee without lab access. But that’s still, what, fifty people?”

“Roughly.” Then I smiled ear to ear. “But we can trim the field even more.”

Dramatic pause.

They glared. I ate it up.

“The gates, silly boys.” I tapped my temple. “They never opened, even after the equipment was swiped. Which means—” smacking my palm, “—whoever took the gear couldn’t get it out of the compound.”

Both arms, raised in triumph.

Met by puzzled looks.

“The equipment must still on the grounds!” I spun, finger outstretched. “In one of these buildings. Find the loot, we find the crook.”

“Crap balls!” Hi breathed. “That’s freaking genius.”

“You did it!” Shelton took a hop-step toward Building One. “Let’s tell Kit!”

“Or . . .” I flashed a wicked smile.

What would Tempe do?

“We find it ourselves.”

Shelton’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “But how? There are a dozen buildings.”

I pulled the glove from my pocket and held it aloft. “We’ve got a few tricks up our sleeves, don’t we?”

“Oh.” All three at once.

They understood.

I reached for my sunglasses.

Squeezed my eyes shut.

SNAP.

I hate it, every time.

The shift is terrible, like being shoved into a washing machine filled with molten lava. Then electrocuted. Then beaten by a sock filled with doorknobs.

Quit whining, Shelton. Light the torch.

Slipping off my glasses, I closed my eyes and mumbled a prayer.

I focused on darkness. Tight spaces. Drowning. Hairy, crawling spiders.

Anything that gives me the creeps.

I still have to scare myself. Fear is my only trigger. I don’t know why, but if I’m not spooked, the power just won’t come. But I’m getting pretty good at it, and that day had no problem. Guess I was nervous already.

Contact.

SNAP.

The power jolted through me.

As the flare unfolded, fire exploded in my chest. Icy needles danced on my skin. Bolts of electricity shot through my veins.

Gasping, I gripped my knees. Sweat coated my body.

I tried to catch my breath as every sense blasted into hyperdrive.

The world sharpened to laser clarity.

My eyes cut like diamonds, could make out the tiniest crack in the sidewalk.

A hidden symphony flooded my ears, abruptly divisible into hundreds of individual components. Burrowing insects. Flapping wings. Leaves, sighing far overhead. I heard them all.

Subtle aromas crammed my nose—honeysuckle, from a garden fifty yards away. A dozen varieties of grass. Tory’s mango shampoo. Even Hi’s armpit sweat. Blech. I tried to keep my stomach from emptying.

I could detect the slightest vibration against my arm hairs.

Could taste different sands and salts on the breeze.

I flared. Tapped my canine DNA.

I never enjoy how the wolf came out to play. But the pain is worth it.

The results are ridonkulous.

“Everybody ready?” Tory slipped on sunglasses to hide her glowing, golden eyes.

We all had them, now that we’d switched on—wolf irises shining with inner fire. The only outward sign that our powers were active. The reason Virals carried shades 24/7.

Tory’s whisper was plenty loud for me. Flaring, I could hear her heartbeat.

Here’s the thing—somehow, the supervirus affected each of us differently. We can’t explain it. Maybe the little bugger enhanced strengths we already had. Maybe it exploited individual weaknesses.

Who knows? We don’t have the answers.

But we do have the skills.

For me, I could hear like an owl. Better, probably. More acutely than the other Virals, though they had crazy sharp ears, too. But mine left theirs in the auditory dust.

Hi backhanded his nose, then wiped his shorts.

“Good to go,” he wheezed, cheeks crimson, dark lenses in place.

He spun a quick circle, scanning to make sure we hadn’t been seen. Hiram had the best eyes, hands down. Flaring, he could count a bird’s feathers at a hundred yards.

Ben flexed his fingers, then rolled his shoulders. When it came to pure physical power, he got more pop than the rest of us. He became superstrong, and lightning quick, like a ninja grizzly bear.

“Take the lead, Tor.” I slapped on my shades—no need for a prescription with the wolf unleashed. My eyes were telescopic.

I’d grasped her plan right away.

When flaring, Tory had the best nose, by far. Her sniffer was so sensitive, she could smell people’s emotions. Crazy. Seriously. Crazy.

Her talent had to do with sweat and identifying hormones and pheromones, or something like that. But damn! It even freaked me out.

Whatever the explanation, the ability was real. I’d seen her operate.

“Stick close to the fence.” Tory pointed to the chain-link barrier enclosing the compound. Then she ripped the plastic glove and removed the splinter. “We’ll start at the front gate and move clockwise, toward Building One. We’ll circle behind each building and I’ll try to catch the scent.”

Hi nodded. “Circle their behinds.”

Ben cuffed the back of Hi’s head.

“Let’s do it.” Tory clapped her hands, which sounded like thunder in my brain.

Hi fired two hand-shooters, unfazed by Ben’s cranial assault. “This loser’s going down, Charlie Brown.”

One by one, we arrowed toward the fence.

As we moved, it happened.

That strange, familiar feeling blossomed inside my mind.

The sense of connection. Oneness. A hidden link between me and my pack.

Don’t ask me how, but I could almost feel where the others were. How fast they moved. What they intended to do next. Sometimes, if I concentrated hard enough, I could even catch a whiff of their thoughts.

The sensation made me nervous as hell.

Leave that stuff to Tory.

At that moment, Tory glanced over her shoulder. At me. She flashed a wry smile.

Shivers ran my spine.

Tory believed we had a spiritual connection. Some kind of shared consciousness, springing from our canine DNA. I get the willies just thinking about it.

Sometimes, when flaring, Tory could send us messages mind to mind.

At times, I’d been able to send back.

Telepathy? A pack mind? Is this what wolves experience every day?

I didn’t know, but the whole business scared me to death. Fact: The idea of someone reading my thoughts gives me heart palpitations. Even Tory. Some things are just too personal to get comfortable with.

Tory is always the nucleus. The rest of us can’t kick-start a mind link. We wouldn’t know where to start. But even she doesn’t understand how the link works. She can’t control it either—the ability comes and goes without warning. Go figure.

One more puzzle to unravel.

Being Viral can be scary business.

Reaching the fence, Tory paused and placed the sliver under her nose. A moment passed, then she nodded.

“The residue has a funky mix of odors,” she said. “It’s mainly earthy, like grass or wheat. But there are traces of . . . sweetness. For some reason, I keep thinking of raisins.”

“Get after it, hound dog!” Hi crouched, slapped his leg twice, then jabbed a finger down the fence line. “Track!”

Ben delivered a second head smack. “Dope.”

Hi rubbed his dome. “That’s assault, bro. Times two. And flare slaps hurt more.”

“Sue me.” Ben turned to Tory. “Ready?”

She nodded. “Circle the compound. Sweep each building. Catch the scent.”

“Works for me.” I fell into line.

“There’ll be repercussions, Blue,” Hi warned, taking up the rear. “Shock and awe. Punitive damages.”

“Looking forward to it,” Ben replied without turning.

We moved slowly along the perimeter. Building One. Shed Three. Vehicle Depot A. Building Four. Tory shook her head each time.

A hundred yards, and we reached the back of the complex. Turning right, we hustled past the rear gate to the opposite side of the courtyard and the second row of buildings.

To anyone watching, it would’ve been a bizarre scene. Four teens in sunglasses, creeping around LIRI’s perimeter, following a redheaded girl who sniffed the air like a Labrador. Thankfully, there was no one in sight.

Tory was methodical. At each structure she’d probe the back door, or any other opening, breathing deeply. Then she’d move on, disappointed. In no time we’d returned the front gate.

Tory stopped, jaw clenched in frustration. “This isn’t working.”

I won’t lie—I was relieved. “Let’s tell Kit what we know.”

“We didn’t go in the buildings,” Ben pointed out.

Unconsciously, my fingers rose to my earlobe. “We can’t sneak inside every one. We don’t have that kind of access. And I’m not taking a third chance with security. Too many lies.”

“So let’s buzz the front doors,” Hi suggested. “Maybe we get lucky.”

Tory nodded. “If that fails, we’ll try something else.”

I suppressed a sigh. “Something else” didn’t sound like my suggestion.

We moved along the inner courtyard path, until we drew level with Building One.

“Let’s skip it,” Tory said. “Security will be a pain. We can always come back.”

That’s when my ears perked.

Without flaring, I’d never have heard it. I was sure the others didn’t.

Swish. Hum. Swish.

The doors!

“Building One!” I hissed. “Somebody’s coming out!”

Running is not my thing.

Tory might exercise for fun, but not me. That’s what video games are for.

“Move it, Hi!” Ben hissed, then bolted after Shelton and Tory.

“Why?” I whisper-shouted. “We didn’t do anything! I’m comfortable giving up!” But the others were barreling for the hedge on the opposite side of Building One.

You’re flaring, you idiot! Haul ass!

“Not cool!” Fortunately, I can be quick when necessary.

Flaring, I could practically fly.

Head down, I booked past the front doors just as two figures emerged from inside. Kit. Hudson. Their heads turned as I zoomed by and out of sight.

My faster buddies were already hunkered behind the greenery.

“Keep going!” I didn’t slow, kept hauling full speed. “I think Hudson saw me!”

Shelton winced. “The last thing we need.”

Now in the lead, I sped past Shed Three, then zagged behind a row of dogwoods. The others piled in beside me.

“There’s no cover here,” Ben warned. “But the vehicle depot has a retaining wall. We can duck behind that.”

He and Tory sped forward in a blink. Wolf powers unleashed, they moved like smoke. Shelton followed on their heels. I watched the trail behind us. Somebody had to.

I heard sneakers on concrete. Knew they’d reached the hiding place.

“Moves like Jagger,” I whispered, then pounded after the others.

Behind me, my enhanced ears detected footfalls.

Frick!

Twenty yards. My objective lay dead ahead.

My shades flew as I vaulted the chest-high wall.

And landed on Ben.

“Ack.” He toppled backward with a thud. “Get off me, Double Stack!”

“Serves you right,” I panted. “Vengeance is mine.”

Ben’s knee connected with my gut.

“Ooof!” I rolled to my back, crawled for cover, and collapsed.

Ben crouched beside me, rubbing his face. “You almost broke my nose.”

“You punctured my lungs. And my spleen. And my ovaries.” Not true. But flaring, I could feel bruises forming in my midsection. “You’ll pay for these crimes, Blue.”

“Any time, chunk.” Ben slapped my back. Which hurt, too.

“Shh!” Shelton sat, back pressed to the wall, ear cocked toward Building One. Seconds ticked by. Finally, “No one’s coming.”

Then he rounded on Ben and Tory. “Why are we all runnin’ and hidin’ in the first place? Why not just snuff our flares? News flash: They already know we’re out here! And we haven’t done anything bad. Not yet, anyway.”

“I’m not ready to quit.” Tory pulled a twig from her hair. Her eyes were still hidden behind black Ray-Bans, but I recognized the stubborn set to her chin. “I want to finish our inspection, without interruption.”

Classic Tory.

“God, I respect you,” I deadpanned, flat on my back.

“Shut it, Hi. We’ll check this garage first, then the other buildings on this side of the courtyard, one by one, like before. Any objections?”

Hearing none, Tory popped to her feet.

I rolled to my side, fully intending to stand.

Didn’t happen. My lungs weren’t ready for duty just yet.

So I lay on the concrete, panting, plotting my revenge on Ben.

Vehicle Depot A resembles a small fire station. Three garage-like doors provide access to a single mechanic’s bay. To the right of the doors, a separate entrance leads to a few small offices, workrooms, and an employee break room.

The wall sheltering us was barely five feet high, and separated the depot’s rectangular driveway from LIRI’s main courtyard. Inside the wall, to the building’s left, a grassy area stretched to the hedge line bordering Shed Three.

I lay in the wall’s shadow, directly facing the last garage door.

From my unique vantage point—face to the concrete—I noticed something.

Wet specks. On the pavement.

Curious, I lifted my head slightly. Zeroed my flare vision.

Details snapped into HD. The specks became fragmented streaks.

Parallel lines, a foot apart. Nearly invisible.

Tracks. Wheels?

LIRI had a fleet of ATVs, but they used wide tires, suitable for off-road terrain.

But these treads were thin, more like those of a bicycle. Extremely light, too. Without my flare vision, I’d never have noticed them. The tracks couldn’t have been there more than a few hours. In another, they would fade completely.

“Something that rolls,” I murmured. “But not a motor vehicle.”

Shelton looked up. “You say something?”

I didn’t answer. My eyes traced the lines across the driveway.

Another surprise. Instead of joining the path, they swerved into the grass.

“Huh.”

I rose to my hands and knees and crawled to where the concrete ended and the grass began. Then, pressing my cheek flat on the pavement again, I examined the yard.

There. Twin ranks of broken blades, running directly toward the hedge.

“Hey, now.”

I sat back on my heels and squinted hard at the bushes. Spotted a gap right where the tracks ended. The damage was plain to see. Snapped branches. Crushed leaves. As if something heavy had been forced through them recently.

But what?

Then I had it. “A hand truck.”

“Hiram?” Shelton was eyeing me closely. “You okay, man? ’Cause I’m not getting a hand truck to lift your sorry butt. Suck it up.”

“No.” I bounced to my feet. “Look at these wet streaks. The grass. That hedge. Something heavy was rolled through here. I’m guessing a hand truck.”

Tory was beside me in flash. “Where? Show me.”

I explained my observations, step by step.

Shelton whistled. “You see like a damn eagle.”

“Great work, Hi.” Tory beamed.

I drank in the praise. “Also, whatever the load was, it came through here in the last few hours.”

Shelton frowned. “How can you tell?”

“Wet wheels.” Tory looked to me for confirmation.

“Correctamundo. It hasn’t rained for days. Whatever made these tracks must’ve rolled through last night’s dew. These tread marks will evaporate soon. They’re almost gone now.”

Ben chucked my shoulder. “Nice work, Thick Burger.”

“Thank yourself. If you hadn’t viciously assaulted me, I’d never have noticed.”

Ben nodded stoically. “So in a way, I’m the hero.”

I snorted. “Benjamin, you’ve done it again.”

“These tracks lead . . . there.” Tory walked to the last garage door in the row.

Though dirty, it looked serviceable. But a trio of rusty barrels blocked it.

Ben walked over and tugged the handle. It wouldn’t budge.

“Aha.” He kicked the base of the door. “There’s a spiffy new padlock.”

“Look at the pavement near the wall.” Shelton pointed to a spot a dozen yards away, in the corner of the driveway. Red-brown accretions tarnished the concrete. “Those are rust stains, from these barrels. They used to be over there. Somebody’s hiding something!”

I puffed out my chest. “I’d like to take a moment to thank all the little people who contributed to my success. Shelton, you’ve always been a stand-up guy, and—”

“Can it, Hi.” Ben shoved one of the barrels. “Water, I think. Half empty.”

Tory was all business. “We have to get inside.”

“On it.” Ben tossed Shelton his shades, wrapped his arms around a barrel, lifted, and hauled it to the side. Golden eyes gleaming, he repeated the process three more times until the doorway was clear.

Tory looked at Shelton. Pointed to the padlock.

“Why not get Kit?” Shelton whined. “Why break in?”

“Because we don’t know if we’re right,” Tory said calmly. “What if these tracks have nothing to do with the theft? You feel like looking ridiculous?”

“Always bullying me into felonies,” Shelton mumbled.

He pulled out his key chain and selected from his trusty lock-pick set. In moments Shelton was on one knee, jimmying the padlock.

“Wish I’d never bought these stupid picks,” Shelton grumbled. “Now I’m a damn universal entry card.”

“Poor baby.” Tory squeezed Shelton’s shoulder. “Victim of your own talent.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Ben moved to the wall to keep watch. He needn’t have bothered.

In less than a minute I heard a click.

Shelton stood, handed Tory the padlock. “There.” Shaking his head. “One more B and E for my juvie record. I’ll never be president.”

“Pssh.” I flapped a hand. “The Oval Office is perfect for a criminal like you.”

Tory reached for the handle and pulled. This time, the door rose easily.

Single file, we snuck inside.

Last to enter, I lowered the door behind us.

Little daylight cut through the dirt-crusted windows high overhead, leaving the room draped in shadows. Safely alone in the dark, we all pocketed our shades.

“Ben?” Tory’s irises blazed in the gloom. “Find a switch, please.”

Why? We can see just fine.

But I searched the wall and flipped on the halogens. Light flooded the depot.

My eyes quickly adjusted.

When flaring, everything I did was quick.

Tory, Hi, and Shelton had clustered in the center of the room.

I looked around. We were in a typical mechanics’ garage.

The room was a large square, with three vehicle bays stationed against the far wall, each housing a pair of four-wheel ATVs. Between the bays, large windows looked in on several small offices accessed by a door in the corner.

Heavy equipment lined the left-hand wall, along with metal shelves and three bulky storage bins. The right-hand wall held a row of workstations, each with a tool chest, stool, and large table. A second door led to the other section of the building.

I recognized a few items. Others left me baffled.

LIRI is remote and needs full-service maintenance capability. Short of actually making spare parts, this facility could handle just about any breakdown.

“Check this bad boy out!” Hi was admiring one of the four-wheelers. “Vroom vroom! What I wouldn’t give to take this puppy for a spin.”

“Break your fool neck.” Shelton rapped an odd metal grillwork welded to its rear. “What’s this thing? Looks like a giant bicycle basket.”

“It is.” Tory said. “These ATVs are used to stock the monkey feeders scattered across the island. The feed bags are too heavy to carry, especially if you’re heading to the swamp, or up to Tern Point.”

“Nonsense.” Hi slipped into the driver’s seat. “These are terrorist first-response vehicles. We keep them to repel pirate attacks. Or to fight the monkeys, when they finally evolve and try to take our planet.”

“Doofus.” I barked a laugh.

Tory suddenly stiffened. “I smell it!”

Three heads swung her way.

“My bad.” Hi’s face flushed scarlet. “It’s a big room, and I didn’t think anyone would notice if—”

“No.” Tory waved off the comment. “And, ew, by the way.”

Tory stuck her nose to the grillwork. Inhaled. “Here! Same scent as on the wood chip.” Her eyes widened as something clicked. “It’s the monkey chow! Wheat. Soybean. Raisins. Why didn’t I put it together before?”

Shelton raised the roof. “Which means we’re on the money!”

Tory’s eyes cut to me. “Does the other depot service feeder ATVs?”

I knew the answer. “Nope. It houses two more four-wheelers, but they’re lighter models used mostly for vet emergencies.”

I slapped the vehicle beside me. “These babies do all the feeder runs.”

“So where do they store the grub?” Hi hopped down. “That’s the question, right?”

You know that, too, Benny boy.

I pointed to the hulking bins in the left corner. “Right. There.”

We raced over. Three minivan-sized storage containers were lined up in a row. Each had a single yard-square metal door, set five feet off the ground. A pair of steel steps had been welded to the base of each bin for easier access.

“They’re big enough,” Shelton said. “You could hide a horse inside one of these.”

Hi flourished a hand toward the grimy bins. “A trio of boxes, but only one prize.” He wrapped an arm around Tory’s shoulder, pretending to hold a microphone in his other hand. “Young lady, you’re our next contestant!”

I felt a pang of jealously, but stomped it to death.

Dumb. Dumb dumb dumb.

Tory played along, wide-eyed and enthusiastic. “What can I win? A new Prius?”

Hi arched a single brow. “Choose correctly, and you’ll receive the undying respect and admiration of your peers! Plus a Twinkie.”

Then his yellow eyes narrowed, his tone dropping to an ominous growl. “Choose wrong, and we’ll lock you inside the bin, then feed you to the monkeys.”

“Sounds wonderful!” Tory stepped forward and inspected her options. Then she pointed to the filthiest of three. “This one.”

“May I ask why?” Hi extended his fake mike.

Her reply was non-nonsense. “Because it’s the only one locked.”

She climbed the steps and lifted a glossy black padlock securing the bin’s door.

“Oh man.” Shelton kicked the base of the container, then winced and grabbed his foot. “Ouch! That was stupid. Don’t anybody else do that.”

“Check the other two first?” I suggested.

“Obviously.” Hi stepped up, swung a bin door, and peered inside. “Filled to the brim with monkey feed. And I’m not gonna lie, this stuff looks mighty tasty. Like a giant box of trail mix. When are we eating lunch, anyway?”

“I hope the gear isn’t buried in there,” Shelton said. “Could get messy.”

“Not a good place for storing laptops.” Hi hopped back down to the floor. “Might void the warranty.”

I opened the next bin with an echoing clang.

“Nothing.” Sticking my head inside. “Empty.”

Hi reached up and grabbed Tory’s hand. “Looking good for that Twinkie!”

Another jealous twinge. Ruthlessly extinguished.

What’s wrong with me lately?

“Door number three.” Tory tapped the lock. “Shelton. Work your magic, please.”

“At least I got a ‘please’ this time.”

They switched places. But Shelton had barely lifted a finger before stepping back and shaking his head. “Sorry, folks. No can do. This is a Granit closed-shackle padlock, not some BS school-locker model. High security design, too. This sucker uses an ABUS Plus disc cylinder with two hundred and fifty thousand key variations. It can be picked, but I need different tools. I only carry the basics on my key chain.”

Tory chewed her lower lip. I could practically see her mind racing.

I stepped up to examine the locked bin. It was old and battered, its color morphed from pewter to a dingy reddish brown.

My flaring eyes traced the rusty metal door. Noted the decaying hinges.

“Okay.” Tory spoke aloud as she worked through ideas. “We need some kind of cutters. The padlock looks solid, but maybe if—”

“Relax.”

Planting my feet against the side of the bin, I gripped the door handle with both hands and jerked backward.

Nothing. The metal held.

Digging deeper, I closed my eyes. Tugged again.

The steel whined, but refused to give.

“So it’s like that.” I slid my feet up until I was practically hanging sideways.

“Take it easy, slugger.” Hi drew a hand across his neck. “Know when to say when.”

“I’m just getting warmed up.”

Deep breath.

A growl escaped my lips as I wrenched with every ounce of strength in my body, willing the door to move.

Creeeeeeak.

CRACK!

I flew backward, skidded across the concrete floor, and crashed into Hi’s legs.

Hi went down like a bowling pin, knocking over a bucket beside the closest ATV. Something brown and sticky oozed onto his checkerboard shoes.

“I’m cursed!” he moaned. “These are limited-edition Vans.”

SNUP.

My flare vanished.

Losing the power was always a drag. Normal human senses seemed almost a punishment. Like some part of me died. I hated the feeling.

It took a moment to realize I still gripped the bin door in my hands.

Flipping it aside, I tried to clear the cobwebs.

“Whoa!” Shelton offered me a hand, golden light fading from his eyes. “Nice job, Hulkster.”

I shrugged, still woozy. “Simplest solution.”

A glance at Tory. She was beaming at me with normal emerald-green irises.

I felt my cheeks flush. “Help me up, Devers. I nearly broke my neck.”

“What is this gunk?” Hi was wiping his shoes with a dirty rag. “Not cool.”

His flare was gone, too. Why do they go out as one?

“Hey, guys?” Shelton slipped on his prescription specs and pointed to the now-open bin. “Moment of truth.”

“Wait!” Hi scrambled to his feet, oily sneakers squeaking on the concrete. “This is my game show!”

Hi charged up the steps. His upper body disappeared inside the container. I heard rustling noises, then he reappeared with a MacBook in one hand and modem in the other. “Anyone wanna play some Halo?”

“Oh, snap!” Shelton started dancing Gangnam style. “Somebody get that girl a Twinkie! Hell, give her a whole box!”

We ran to Hi, who started handing down hardware. Laptop. Server. Microscope. Centrifuge. The dollar value rapidly climbed into the tens of thousands.

We formed a chain, stacking the stolen equipment on the concrete floor.

As the pile grew, I couldn’t help smiling like an idiot.

We’d actually foiled the robbery. Amazing.

So why the look of annoyance on Tory’s face?

“What is it?” I asked.

She waved at the expanding pile of gear. “We still don’t know who took it.”

“Hey, we did the hard part.” Hi handed a router to Ben and climbed down. “That’s the last of it. Let the cops figure out who’s guilty. What we need to focus on is this footwear disaster. Somebody owes me a new pair of kicks.”

He stamped his feet, trying shed liquid from his dirty soles.

“Whoever did this is no genius.” Shelton adjusted his glasses. “What was the plan here? Keep the gear in this bin, forever? Sneak it out one piece at a time? Child, please. Once security is back online, there’s zero chance of getting this stuff through the gates, much less off the island.”

True. As heists go, I thought this was a particularly dumb one.

But, as usual, Tory had a better take. “No. It would’ve worked.”

We all stopped to listen.

“It’s clever, actually.” Tory rapped the storage bin with her knuckles. “This was probably just for the night.”

Shelton crossed his arms. “How can you know that?”

“Think about it. The crook planned this break-in for a night security was down. But the gates are always monitored, even then, and the last regular shuttle leaves at eight. So he stashed the equipment here, knowing he couldn’t possibly get it off the island aboard Hugo.”

“Very true,” I said. “My father’s no dope. He’d prevent anyone from transporting a horde of high-tech equipment off Loggerhead.”

Tory began to pace. A good sign.

“Even with no cameras, it’s practically impossible to get something bulky past LIRI’s fence unnoticed.” She pointed to the closest ATV. “But these go out every Monday morning, to restock the feeders. And they always carry a massive load.”

Suddenly, the answer jumped out at me.

Of course.

“So the thief dumps the stuff in here until morning,” I said slowly, marveling at the plan’s elegant simplicity, “then wraps everything in feed bags, loads an ATV, and drives it all right through the gate.”

“Wow.” Shelton’s eyes rounded. “Hiding in plain sight.”

Hi nodded appreciatively. “And once outside the fence, our devious felon could stash the gear anywhere. Pick it up later by boat. Just like a pirate, really.”

“By this time tomorrow,” Tory finished, “the whole thing would’ve been over.”

“Hold up.” Shelton’s palms rose. “If the crook couldn’t get the hardware out, then how’d he get out?” Eyes widening, he dropped into a battle-crouch. “Is the thief still in here, too!?”

Tory shook her head. “With security down, a motivated criminal could slip over the perimeter fence easy enough. It’s not razor-wired or anything, to protect the monkeys from injury. I bet the jerk either secretly stayed behind after the last ferry, then went to work and climbed out, or came back by private boat after midnight, scaling the fence twice.”

I kept my face blank, but inside, I marveled. Tory puts things together so fast!

“Real talk,” Hi said, “we’re the only reason the scheme didn’t work. No chance Chief Tight Pants or those cops figure it out fast enough. I’d say we rock pretty freaking hard.”

“But we still don’t know who!” Tory threw both hands above her head.

“True, but we’ve narrowed the pool of suspects.” Hi began ticking points on his fingers. “LIRI employee. Has access to the depot. Makes feeder runs. Probably works on Monday. That can’t be more than a half-dozen people. Have Kit check the time sheets. Easy.”

I ignored Hiram. Watched Tory instead.

And knew she’d rather explode than hand off this investigation.

That’s when I got my idea.

“What about the tool, Tory?”

“Huh?” Ben’s question snapped me from a funk.

We’re going to solve this. We ARE.

I couldn’t imagine quitting. What kind of detective leaves a job half done?

“The cabinets in Lab Three.” Ben spoke slowly, but with uncharacteristic eagerness. “They were pried open, remember?”

He pointed to the row of workstations against the opposite wall. “Wouldn’t the criminal use something he could trust?”

Of course.

I felt a jolt of excitement. “Something he worked with every day!”

“Brilliant deduction, my Native American friend!” Hi nodded sagely. “No, really, I’m being serious. Good thinking, Blue.”

“Makes sense,” Shelton agreed. “If I’m about to risk a felony, I’d use a tool I was familiar with. One I could count on.”

“You’re a genius.” I reached out and squeezed Ben’s shoulder.

He stiffened. Then reddened.

I snatched my hand back. Touchy.

Hi was already crossing the garage. “Let’s check for anything strong enough to force a cabinet. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“The doors were made of pressed wood that splintered,” I reminded everyone. “There might be shavings stuck to the implement. Or maybe broken glass. Even dust could be significant. Go slowly, and be careful.”

Six workstations lined the wall. Each had a massive, freestanding toolbox labeled by name in black marker on dirty masking tape.

Hi took the first station and began opening and closing drawers. “Hello, Lionel Alonso. Are you a dirty, stinking thief?”

“Simon Rome.” Ben began rifling the second workstation. “Let’s check you out.”

Shelton looked a question at me.

“You take . . . Kenny Hall.” I gestured to the next station in line. “I’ll check out . . . Frank Glasnapp.”

I searched the tool chest systematically, inspecting the top drawers first, even though they seemed too small. My hypothesis was correct. Screws. Hinges. Bolts. Nails. Nothing suitable for B and E.

I switched to the lower section. These drawers were wider and deeper, and held more promising items. Hammers. Screwdrivers. A socket wrench set.

But my careful inspection came up empty.

If Glasnapp was our guy, he didn’t keep his instrument of choice in here.

The boys also struck out. We double-checked an ax Ben discovered, and two crowbars owned by Mr. Hall. None showed signs of recent use.

“Though we can’t be a hundred percent sure,” I grumbled. “If the crook wiped the tool down, we’d never know.”

“Two more to go,” Shelton said. “Double up?”

Hi nodded. “Shelton and I will take . . . John Johnson? Hey, great name, guy.”

I moved to the last workstation. “Ben and I will check this one. Trey Terry.”

Terry’s tool chest had larger compartments than the first I’d checked. We found a pair of hedge clippers, a rotating circular saw, a portable air compressor, and a collection of hatchets.

“This guy must work in the woods,” Ben guessed. “These things are probably used to clear brush from around the feeders.”

“But everything’s clean,” I muttered. “No shavings, no embedded plastic, nada.”

“We got nothing, too.” Shelton closed the last of Johnson’s drawers. “Weak sauce.”

“So we struck out on this one.” Ben casually spun a hatchet in one hand. “But we found the loot, and Kit can follow Hi’s plan to ID the crook. Still a win in my book.”

Ben attempted a second twirl, but missed the catch. The hatchet crashed to the floor.

“Easy, circus freak!” Hi hopped backward. “I like my toes where they are.”

“Sorry.” Ben chuckled. “In my defense, the handle is slick.”

Two neurons fired in my brain. Synapse.

“The handle,” I murmured. Then, “The handle!”

Ben reached for the hatchet, but Shelton scooped it first. “Not a chance, you. No more blade juggling on my watch.”

My hand shot out. “Gimme that.” I knew my voice sounded odd.

“Okeydokey.” Shelton passed it over with a quizzical look.

“Don’t you get all choppy-stabby on us, Tor,” Hi warned. “That’s no way to deal with frustration.”

“If I do, you’re getting hacked first.” But I focused on the object in my hands.

I flipped the hatchet upside down and held it by the blade. The handle was made of wood, stained dark brown. Its surface scratched and pitted by a lifetime of hard use.

And there was a lovely little chip at the base of the handle.

I felt a charge of adrenaline.

I snatched the splinter from my pocket and pressed it into the gap on the handle. All three boys straightened.

But my hopes were immediately dashed.

The splinter didn’t match. Not in size, color, or grain.

Ben dove for the tool chest. “There are five more of those in here.”

He grabbed two of the hatchets and handed them to Shelton and Hi.

“Not this one,” Hi said. “No gash on the handle.”

“Same story here,” Shelton said.

Three more came out in quick succession.

There.

I seized the last implement from Ben’s fingers. This one was larger, more a small ax than a true hatchet. Its handle was a foot long, worn, and stained dark brown.

With a one-inch, triangular notch at the bottom of the haft.

Heart pounding, I inspected the notch closely. The damage seemed fresh, with pale yellow wood still visible in the center of the breach. Inhaling deeply, I detected the faintest whiff of monkey chow.

My hands trembled with excitement.

Willing myself calm, I placed the splinter from Lab Three into the fissure.

Perfect fit.

Color. Shape. Grain. All a flawless match.

“Gotcha.”

“Trey Terry.” Shelton triple-jabbed his index finger. “You. Are. Busted.”

“We’re gonna be studs,” Hi crowed. “Maybe there’s a cash reward? How should we tell everybody?” He stroked his chin. “Should we be all like, ‘Hey Kit, come check out this awesome garden hose we found,’ and then BAM, we’re holding microscopes over our heads? Or should we play it ultra-cool, like cracking this case is no biggie. I’m torn.”

I looked at him strangely. “Hi, we’re not taking credit for this.”

“Do what now?” Hi’s forehead creased. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

“Are you taking stupid pills?” Shelton snapped. “We can’t draw that kind of attention to ourselves. Any attention. You should know that by now, Stolowitski.”

“We’re still Viral,” Ben said quietly. “We’re only one mistake away from being caged like lab rats. Always. The best thing we can do is go unnoticed. Period.”

I nodded. “For us, there’s no such thing as good publicity.”

“Oh, come on!” Hi actually stamped his foot. “We can explain this one! Step by step! The world won’t suddenly suspect we’ve got superpowers, they’ll just think we’re awesome and brilliant. And I, for one, like that idea!”

Hi searched faces, hunting for an ally. Found none.

Go easy. You’re the one who wanted to impress Aunt Tempe.

“Hey, I know you’re awesomely brilliant.” I offered a high five. “What more do you need?”

“Fame. Glory. A book deal.”

“I’ll buy you a Twix.”

Hi buried his face in his hands. A beat, then, “I do love those.”

He sighed. “Fine. Deal.” Slapping my palm with his. “But I want the full candy bar. None of that mini, Halloween-sized crap.”

Shelton was tugging his earlobe again. “But how do we put it together for a dope like Hudson without tipping our involvement?”

I grinned.

“That’s the fun part.”

Fire hazard?

I read the email a third time.

To: LIRI Director Christopher Howard.

Re: Fire Suppression Alert, Vehicle Depot A.

Subject: WARNING

The automated sprinkler system at LOGGERHEAD ISLAND, LIRI COMPOUND, VEHICLE DEPOT A has been disengaged. This constitutes a preventable fire hazard under the terms of LIRI’s property insurance agreement. Immediate remedial action is required.

Note: This message is part of the automated warning system. Do not reply.

I rubbed my eyes with both palms. Pinched the bridge of my nose.

What a day.

I’d been director for weeks, but this was a first.

Frankly, I wasn’t sure what to do.

This job is going to kill me.

But I knew I had to investigate. We’d already been robbed. I didn’t need a fire.

Frustrated, I stood and strode from my office. Being Sunday, the rest of the director’s suite was empty. The rooms still made me uncomfortable—I still thought of this area as belonging to my predecessor. Probably always would.

“One thing after another,” I said aloud.

I took the elevator to the ground floor and crossed to the security desk.

Carl was on duty, not Chief Hudson.

Why am I relieved? I hired the guy.

“Any word on my daughter, Carl?”

The portly guard shot to his feet. “No sir, Dr. Howard. Director Howard.”

He snatched off his cap and began spinning it in his hands.

I suppressed a sigh. Carl and I used to swap jokes.

“Relax, Carl. And, please, call me Kit. It’s no big deal, I was just curious. The kids show up without warning, then they drop off the grid.”

This only made Carl fidget more. “Should I look for them, sir? I mean, Director. Er, Kit.”

“Forget I asked.” I waved the guard back to his seat. “If anyone needs me, I’m heading over to Depot A for a sec.”

“Yes, sir, Director Howard.” Carl winced. “Doctor. Kit.”

I slipped through the glass doors, shaking my head. Things would never be the same. The price you pay for being in charge, I guess.

A part of me missed how things used to be.

Sometimes, I felt like fraud. A little boy, sneaking around in Karsten’s impossibly large shoes. I worried the other LIRI veterans thought the same about me.

At times like this, I missed being plain old Dr. Howard, the nerdy marine biologist who obsessed over loggerhead turtles. People liked that guy. They didn’t stammer, or grow quiet when he approached the water cooler.

Those days were gone. But if the cost of saving LIRI was being forced to manage it, I was willing to pay.

Plus, let’s be honest. Being the boss does have its perks.

Once outside, I followed the path to Vehicle Depot A. I tried my key, but a shrill beeping erupted the moment I touched the knob.

Hudson has the system back online. Thanks for the heads-up.

Moving to the keypad, I punched in a seven-digit code and swiped my card. There was a hum, then a flash as the sensor took my photograph. The door swung open.

I entered a narrow corridor. To my left was a door leading to the garage. To my right was a row of employee lockers, a pair of offices, and a storage closet. My objective was straight ahead: a maintenance room housing the sprinkler controls.

I didn’t bother with the lights, and soon regretted it. Halfway down the hallway something snagged my pants.

Rip.

“What the heck?” I retreated a step and fumbled for a switch.

The halogens sputtered to life, revealing a long black cable jutting from one of the lockers. The casing had been cut, exposing the copper wire within.

The cable had snared me.

Dang it. I just bought these Dockers.

Extricating myself, I shoved the cord back inside the locker.

Unsafe. I’d need to have a word with . . . Glasnapp? Johnson?

Mental note: Find out who runs this department.

I proceeded to the maintenance room and opened a sleek black panel.

At least I know where the sprinkler controls are, right?

A message was blinking in red: Water supply manually disengaged.

I frowned. The shutoff valve was in the main garage.

I closed the panel, retraced my steps, and entered the mechanics’ bay. The water pipes were in the corner, beside several large bins that stored monkey feed.

The problem was immediately apparent—the emergency handle had been turned perpendicular to the pipe. Which meant the valve was closed, shutting off the system’s water supply. A tiny red sensor was flashing like a railroad signal.

Why had the flow been disengaged? When? By whom?

This makes no sense.

Was someone goofing around in there?

My mind leapt to Tory and her friends. I wouldn’t put anything past those four.

Don’t get me wrong, they’re great kids. Bright, energetic, polite. Tory especially—with my daughter, every day was a learning experience. I no longer doubted her IQ was higher than mine, and I hold two PhDs.

But honestly, I couldn’t believe the things they got into.

After a moment’s reflection, I dismissed my suspicion.

Even with security down, they’d have had no way of getting in here.

Baffled, I stretched to my tiptoes, grabbed the handle, and repositioned it parallel to the pipe. The sensor blinked twice, then stopped altogether.

One issue solved.

I’d taken two steps toward the door when I saw it.

Black cable. Hanging from the corner feed bin.

Like that cable in the locker.

Curious, I climbed to the bin’s opening and tugged the handle. And nearly toppled off the steps as the entire door came free in my hand. It dropped to the floor with a reverberating clatter.

Irritated now, I peered inside.

My head nearly exploded.

Stolen lab equipment nearly filled the space.

What are the odds . . .

Then a second thunderbolt struck home.

I hurried out to the lockers and found the one that attacked me.

My hand froze an inch from the handle. Could I legally open it?

Did I need a warrant? Probable cause? A witness?

Screw it. I’m responsible for this facility.

I engaged the latch, was surprised when the locker opened easily.

Inside were three lengths of cable, a LIRI laptop, and a router.

“You are so busted!” I shouted at no one, angrier than I’d realized.

Slamming the door, I scanned the locker’s face.

Found a name.

Trey Terry.

I was sorting email when Kit burst into the guest office I was using.

“Can you help me with something, Tempe?” Brusque. “Outside?”

“Sure, Kit.” Intrigued. “Should I bring a weapon?”

“No, nothing like that.” Kit’s jaw tightened. I could tell he was barely keeping his agitation in check. “I think I solved our break-in. Looks like an inside job, but I need to be certain.”

“Really?” My interest piqued. “That was quick work.”

“Dumb luck, mostly. But I put the pieces together on my way up here.”

“Let’s talk while we walk.” Logging off Gmail. “I’m all ears.”

“I need you to compare some wires down at the vehicle depot.” Kit shook his head in exasperation. “My prime suspect appears to be both deviously clever and a complete idiot.”

“Wouldn’t be the first criminal to fit that mold.”

We descended to the ground floor, exited Building One, and turned left.

The September sun felt warm on my face. It would be cold in Montreal by now, maybe even frost at night. Even Charlotte could get chilly this time of year. But not Charleston—summer still lingered down here by the coast. I had no complaints.

Kit gestured vaguely up the flowered-lined path. “The garage is two buildings down.”

“You said something about dumb luck?”

In clipped tones my nephew explained what he’d discovered and outlined his theory. “Terry must’ve planned to sneak the stuff out during a feeder run.” Kit’s frown deepened. “Scary thing is, I think it would’ve worked.”

“Makes sense. A crafty scheme, actually. Except for jamming incriminating evidence inside his locker. And leaving more hanging from the hidey-hole.”

Kit’s brows shot up. “That’s the part I don’t get. How can you be that cunning and then botch the whole thing with such foolish mistakes? If he’d kept everything tucked inside the bin, I’d never have found it.”

“These dolts get sloppy all the time.” Don’t I know it. “Wipe down a steering wheel, but forget the turn signal. Buy quicklime to dissolve a body, but pay with a credit card. It’s the little details that sink them.”

Still, what Kit was describing was odd.

Such basic mistakes. The skeptical part of my brain rose and stretched.

We reached the depot and made our way to the vehicle bay. A spectacularly round security guard was stacking equipment in the center of the room. Chief Hudson hovered behind him, cataloging and photographing each item.

Two piles of short black cables sat on opposite sides of the gear.

I didn’t need instruction.

I knelt beside the first pile. “These came from the locker?”

Kit nodded.

Scanning the garage, I spotted a circular magnifying lamp attached to a workbench. I lifted a single cable from the first pile, then snagged another from the second. I carried both pieces to the workbench.

Thumbing on the light, I brought the cables into focus under the lens.

It took only seconds. “We have a match.”

“You’re positive?” Kit asked, crossing to me.

“See how the plastic casing is scored in the exact same fashion?” I moved so Kit could see. “And there was an irregularity in the cutting edge—the encased wired is frayed identically. That’s practically a signature. I can check the other samples, but I have no doubt. These two cables were clipped by the same blade.”

“Thank you, Aunt Tempe.” Kit jammed a hand into his pocket. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some calls to make.”

Kit hurried off, already punching his cell. “Detective Hansen, please. It’s Kit Howard from LIRI . . .”

When Kit had gone, out of habit, I let my eyes rove the “scene.”

Something caught my attention in the feed bin corner.

The floor. An unnatural reflection of light off the concrete.

“Chief Hudson?” I called out.

He glanced up from his clipboard. “Yes, Dr. Brennan?”

“The missing equipment was discovered over there? In one of those bins?”

Hudson paused before answering. “Yes. In the farthest container.”

“Thank you.” I walked to the corner and knelt before the bin in question.

Hudson watched, but didn’t interfere.

I was right. There was something on the floor.

A pattern, pressed to the concrete.

Like a waffle iron.

I pulled out my iPhone and snapped a picture.

“Anything amiss, Dr. Brennan?” Hudson’s tone was frosty. “Please don’t touch anything.”

This freaking guy.

“Of course not.”

The impression could be nothing. But I had that itch.

I moved my eyes slowly across the floor, foot by foot, expanding the radius outward. A similar waffle mark lay by the mechanics’ workstations.

“Hmm.”

Hudson appeared at my elbow, a stony expression on his face. “We’ve already searched Mr. Terry’s workspace. Please don’t disturb it.”

Ignoring him, I glanced toward the interior door. “Can I access the employee lockers through there?”

“Yes, but the door is locked.” Hudson didn’t move.

I waited.

With a grunt Hudson produced a key ring and opened the door.

“Knock for reentry.” Lips so tight they blanched at the edges, Hudson resumed cataloging evidence.

Locating the lockers, I squatted for a closer look at the floor. Saw immediately.

Two more waffle prints. I snapped another iPhone shot.

These marks were fainter than those in the garage. More recent?

A bit puzzled, I returned to the door and knocked as instructed.

Waited. Knocked again.

Finally, the heavy guard opened the door. “Chief Hudson headed back to his office.”

“Of course he did.” I read his name tag. “Thank you, Mr. Szuberla.”

Time to find Kit.

On the driveway, another gleam caught my eye. I dropped down once more to inspect it. Waffle print. Barely perceptible.

As I snapped my third pic, the answer struck me.

“A sneaker.”

The police should check for a matching shoe.

I did a thorough 360, but found no more shoe prints.

“These suckers always leave a trace.”

I slipped back into the depot. One more pass wouldn’t hurt.

Thirty minutes later, I found Kit in his office still on the phone.

He twirled a wrist, indicating I should sit. A minute later he hung up with a grunt. “We got him. Trey Terry, one of our environmental techs.”

“That was quick. You’re certain?”

Kit rolled his eyes. “Terry folded as soon as the cops appeared on his doorstep. Confessed to everything. Not that it matters, since a LIRI laptop was sitting on his table.”

“Not a bad day’s work.”

“The guy’s been with us seven years.” Kit sighed. “We paid him well. I’ll never understand why people do things like this.”

I shrugged. “Greed. Opportunity. Some perceived slight.”

Kit’s expression grew thoughtful. “I checked Terry’s file. He was passed over for a supervisor’s gig last spring. The job went to Glasnapp, who has more experience. Maybe that pissed him off.”

Kit leaned back in his chair. “I just can’t believe how sloppy he was.”

I debated how much to share. Decided to go full out. “About that. I found some distinct—”

The phone rang. Kit answered, then covered the mouthpiece. “Police,” he mouthed.

I nodded, rose, and slipped from the office. My discovery could wait.

Exiting the director’s suite, I walked to the elevators, admiring the modern offices populating the floor. Despite the morning’s excitement, I couldn’t help being impressed with LIRI. What a wonderful place to work. Nicer digs than mine in Charlotte or Montreal, that’s for sure.

On a whim, I snuck into a corner office for a bird’s-eye view of the grounds. Gazing through the glass, I saw the entire complex laid out below.

And spotted my grandniece and her pals, lounging on benches in courtyard.

Watching Tory, feelings of love and pride surged through me. Such a terrific young lady. So smart! There was a fire in her eyes that reminded me of . . . me.

Kit was doing a great parenting job, though I wasn’t sure who actually ran their household.

The kid’s a pistol.

Impulsively, I decided to join Tory and her friends.

I swung back into Kit’s office just as he was finishing his call.

“Tory’s in the courtyard. Thought I’d go say hi.”

“I’ll come, too.” Kit popped from his chair. “I have no idea why she’s out here. Not a novel state of affairs.”

I smiled sympathetically. “She’s headstrong. Ambitious. Those are good things.”

“She’s a rampaging rhino and I’m a parked car.” Kit laughed. “Life is certainly more interesting since she came to live with me. You know she wants to become a forensic anthropologist? Must have good taste in role models.”

When they spotted us coming, whispers flew.

Teenagers. Always changing. Never changing.

“Why, hello there, guys!” Kit spoke with exaggerated animation. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Hi, Dr. Howard.” The skinny black kid was fidgeting with his earlobe. I struggled to remember his name. Sheldon? Elton?

“Hey,” the chunky one said. Hiram? He seemed bummed. Slouching back, he muttered something about a mountain-sized Twix.

The muscular kid simply nodded.

Tory was the only one who seemed glad to see us. “Hey, Kit. Didn’t you know we were coming?”

“No, I did not,” Kit said patiently. “You neglected to mention it at breakfast, outside on the lawn, or as you bolted out the door.”

“Oh, sorry. My bad.” She smiled sweetly.

Kit shrugged.

Hiram suddenly sat up. “Any news on the break-in?”

The other kids shot glances his direction. For some reason, they glared.

Huh?

Kit missed the exchange. “You’re not going to believe this. The robbery was an inside job. One of LIRI’s own techs.”

“Get out!” Hi exclaimed.

“Oh.” Sheldon/Elton studied his shoes. “Neat.”

Muscle Boy didn’t even blink.

Huh?

“Wow.” Tory cocked her head. “Tell us what happened.”

“The suspect made several crucial mistakes.” Kit summarized what he’d pieced together in the last few hours. “Though I still don’t get why Terry shut down the sprinkler system,” he finished. “Maybe he worried the equipment would get wet.”

“Sounds like you saved the day.” Tory, face neutral. “Great job, Kit.”

Hiram groaned and slumped back again, staring up at the sky.

Their reactions surprised me. No curiosity? No barrage of questions?

Earlier this morning, Tory had seemed fascinated.

Now? She simply smiled. Listened. Nodded in the appropriate places.

Only one word described her expression. Smug.

Something wasn’t right. I looked each of them over, top to toe.

Hiram lay flat on his back, legs outstretched, sneakers propped on the bench’s stone armrest. He wore an older style of tennis shoe—a black-and-white checkerboard pattern popular two decades back. Hideous.

I recognized the brand. In middle school, my daughter, Katy, had been obsessed with Vans.

But more importantly, with his feet up I could see the tread on his soles.

Waffle print.

Identical to the marks I’d found inside the garage and by Terry’s locker.

The marks I hadn’t described to Kit. Given Terry’s confession, my finding had no longer seemed important.

Casually, I pulled out my cell phone and examined the three photos I’d taken.

Then I stepped closer to Hiram and scanned the bottom of his shoe.

I’ll be damned.

Hiram noticed me eyeballing his footwear. Eyes narrowing, he tried to swing his feet away, but overbalanced and rolled off the bench.

“Nice one,” Sheldon/Elton said. Muscle Boy smirked.

I caught Hiram’s eye. “Cool shoes. Classic tread. Very distinctive.”

“Thanks?” He sounded a touch nervous.

Hi lurched back onto the bench, but kept his soles firmly planted on the ground.

In my periphery, I noticed Tory watching me intently. The smugness was gone.

My my my.

My eyes dropped to the images on my iPhone.

These four were hiding something. What?

I was sure they wouldn’t have done anything really wrong. But I was equally certain of something else: They’d been inside that garage.

I looked at Tory. Our eyes locked. She knew I was suspicious. Which confirmed my suspicion.

I held her gaze. Saw what I needed to see.

Keep your secret.

Pocketing my phone, I snagged Kit’s elbow. “Come on, Monsieur L’Directeur. These guys didn’t come out here to hang with us.”

“Right.” Kit ruffled Tory’s hair. “Stay out of trouble.”

Walking back toward Building One, I felt eyes on my back. Knew Tory was tracking our retreat.

And I had a devilish thought.

“Give me a sec, Kit. I’ll meet you inside.”

“Sure thing.”

I snagged my phone and selected the best footprint photo of the series.

Attached it to a text message.

Selected the recipient.

Hit send.

Paused. Waited.

Out in the courtyard, I saw Tory reach into her pocket. She glanced down, then stiffened.

Her eyes whipped my way.

With a five-finger-waggle, I slipped inside.

Gotcha.

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