Laura poked her in the arm. “Oh, thanks. ‘Brain cells died.’ That doesn’t make me worry.”

Cress’s smile turned crooked. “Sorry. I’ll keep monitoring. Just get as much rest as you can.”

Laura sighed. “Yeah, right, Cress. Look at my calendar. Better yet, look at this face. I’m living two lives at the moment. Is Terryn in?”

Cress nodded. “In his office. He’s in a bit of a mood.”

Laura adjusted her jacket. “I’ll try not to provoke him.”

Cress patted her on the shoulder as she walked away. “Oh, please do. Dinner tonight will go more smoothly if he lets off some steam before he gets home.”

Laura shook her head as she continued down the hall. For all her conflicted feelings about Cress’s nature, she was still a person, still more than her nature. At the end of the day-literally in this case-even the leanansidhe sometimes had to deal with a cranky boyfriend like anybody else.

True to Cress’s word, Terryn was in a foul mood when Laura entered his office. He didn’t look up right away but frowned at something he was reading. “We need more info on what was going on at that apartment building.”

“Have you seen the case files yet?” she asked.

He gave her a small smile. “About an hour after the raid. All standard op. Several tips on drug manufacturing leading to surveillance to planning the raid and its timing. Nothing to indicate it was other than a straightforward raid.”

“There was a computer lab that looked heavily defended,” said Laura.

Terryn sifted a folder out of his pile. “I thought that was interesting, too. It was destroyed. Crime Scene hasn’t released anything yet, and I’m hearing rumblings that the FBI might take over.” Terryn pushed a piece of paper across his desk. “More bad news.”

She picked up the sheet, a memo on FBI letterhead, stamped SECRET and hand-delivered. She skimmed it and slipped surprise on her face. “Sanchez was working for the Bureau?”

Terryn nodded. “I confirmed the report through our back channel at the FBI. He was CTD.”

A spot of annoyance in her chest quickly blossomed into anger. “Counterterrorism? What the hell did I step in, Terryn, and why didn’t we know about it?”

He held up his hands. “I was as much in the dark as you were, Laura.”

She threw the memo on his desk. “Dark? I got shot at, Terryn, by our own side. You can’t get more dark than that.”

He frowned. “Laura… I know. I don’t blame you for being upset, but you’re getting angry at the wrong person. You volunteered for that mission, remember?”

She closed her eyes and massaged her temples. “I’m sorry. You’re right, Terryn. I have a headache, and I’m ticked off. It’s been a long two days.”

She wasn’t going to wait for an invitation or assignment to figure out what was going on with Sanchez and the FBI, not when her own life was in the balance. “Who was Sanchez’s field director?”

“Lawrence Scales.”

She knew the name. Good reputation from all she had heard. “Set up an appointment. I’m going.”

Terryn didn’t try to hide his amusement. “There’s the Laura I know. Would you like me to drive you to the meeting, or do I have your permission to run this unit while you go?”

She bit her lips in false embarrassment. “I’m sorry. What I meant was, may I have this assignment, sir?”

He inclined his head. “You may. It makes sense for you to go as Mariel Tate anyway. I already set up the appointment and sent a dossier to the Tate office.”

“Thanks. She’ll get right on it,” said Laura. Mariel was the most formidable persona Laura used. She was smart, powerful, and had the might of InterSec to back her up publicly. Mariel’s phone calls were always taken if someone was in, and the first returned if someone was out.

Terryn moved papers on his desk. “I’ve done some preliminary research on the SWAT team. Gianni, Sinclair, and Sanchez have done paid detail and other side work at a dinner club called the Vault.”

Laura nodded. “I know. I was there last night. Tylo Blume, of all people, owns the place. He offered me a job.”

“He’s an arms merchant,” said Terryn.

Laura’s eyebrow flicked up. “That I didn’t know. His firm is running some of the security for the Archives ceremony I’m working on for Guild public relations.”

Terryn dropped a corner of his mouth slightly. “Laura Blackstone and Janice Crawford have both met him?”

Laura shrugged. “It’s a coincidence. I’ve been avoiding meeting with him about the Archives ceremony as Laura Blackstone because that ups the pressure to say yes to what he wants. Senator Hornbeck’s the actual connection. Foyle mentioned to him that he wanted a backup for Corman Deegan, his SWAT-team druid who’s out of commission. If you remember, Terryn, you were the one that wanted more contacts with local enforcement. I created Janice the first time Deegan called in sick.”

Terryn leaned back in his chair. “I remember. I also remember saying I thought the situation might produce a persona conflict.”

She had no choice but to agree. “Fine, you were right. I didn’t think the two personas would ever have a reason to cross. Once the Archives ceremony is over, the problem should go away. Did Corman Deegan work there, too?”

Terryn shook his head. “The SWAT-team druid? I don’t see any indications that he did.”

“Where is he now?”

“Still in the hospital with head-blindness,” Terryn said.

“Sanchez knew something, Terryn. Now somebody thinks I do and is willing to kill me because of it.”

“Maybe you do.”

She thought of her memory flashes, Sanchez pressing his finger into her bloody hand. She pushed at the moment, tried to make the scene step beyond what she remembered, but it drifted into nothing. “I think Sanchez did tell me something. He couldn’t talk. I remember him doing something to my hand. He might have been trying to communicate something.”

“Sign language?”

Laura looked at her palm. Something about the way the lines of her skin crisscrossed made her uneasy. She had never subscribed to palmistry, at least not the way the modern world did. She knew some fey could read health issues in the skin, but that had more to do with how essence points radiated than simple lines. Something about the way her life, heart, and head lines were arranged. “It was a shape, I think. He wrote something.”

“A name?”

She didn’t respond, but continued staring. The memory flickered on the edges of her awareness. Frustration grew within her, frustration that a druid, of all people, was having a hard time remembering. She shook her head. “It’s gone again.”

Terryn had the good grace not to look disappointed, but she felt it. “It’ll come. In the meantime, let’s do the footwork to figure out why the FBI was spying on the SWAT team.”

Laura gathered her things. “Will do. I want to talk to Corman Deegan first, see if he knows anything. I’ll catch up with you after that.”

On the way to the elevator, she passed Cress in the hall. “I made him smile. You owe me lunch.”

“A small price to pay, I am sure,” she replied.