Page 111 of Sin

“Something I don’t understand is how he managed to track everyone down when other teams can’t even locate them all,” I voiced aloud.

Mare just continued to stare out the window, her eyes hard and distant, but she paused her music to listen.

“I agree,” Lewis said, signaling, actually fucking signaling, to change lanes. “He doesn’t have access to the same resources as we do. So I don’t know how he’s finding them.”

“We also still don’t know how he’s picking his targets,” London said as Lewis exited the freeway and took the main road that led toward downtown. His brow furrowed in concentration as he stared down at his tablet at the pictures of the most recent dead body of a worker named Sloane Montgomery. “His order doesn’t make any sense, unless he’s picking randomly to throw us off his trail? To make it harder to catch him?”

I pulled up the latest death on my tablet as well. She’d been killed in a similar manner as the others—so many self-inflicted stab wounds you could barely count them.

"Why now?" I asked, more to myself as I studied the murder files for each victim again. It didn't make sense to me. He had years where he could have gone after them, but he didn't start killing until months ago. "What changed?"

Mare shrugged a shoulder. "It's possible it took him this long to track them down. Each of the victims had been in hiding since your dad tried to massacre like half the world. They knew they'd made a lot of enemies.”

“We also still don't know what they all have in common either,” Blade pointed out.

“What do you mean what they all had in common?” Jinx flicked her in the forehead. “They all worked in the lab, duh.”

She flicked him right back. “Yes, I know that. But why is going after these ones and not the others? Why target these people first? Is it because he found them first? Because they hurt him the worst?”

I frowned, taking in her words. Could there really be something we weren’t seeing? Some piece of the puzzle missing as to who was getting chosen and who wasn’t?

Something Keith said came back to me as I studied the names of the deceased. “Micah.”

London cocked his head at me. “What do you mean?”

I snatched the tablet from where I’d stashed it in the car, looking up the court case Keith had talked about. It didn’t take long to discover my hunch was right. “Jessica Hughes, Stanley Fite, Taylor Knowles, Trixie Bunnell, Adam Mercado, and Sloane Montgomery.” I turned the tablet around. “All were put on trial for the murder of one of their test subjects, Micah Wade. They were charged but found not guilty in court and allowed to continue their practices.”

Mare snatched the tablet from me, reading over the court document. “Holy shit,” Mare said with a low whistle. “He’s going after the people who murdered his friend.” Jessica’s cousin just happened to get caught in the crosshairs.

“How many then are left from the trial?” Jinx asked as London pulled up the report for himself.

“One,” he stated. “Adam Mercado.”

“And we still have no idea where he is?” Blade asked as the taller buildings of downtown came into view. “We’ve double checked with his family and friends and confirmed they haven’t seen or heard from him recently?”

Jinx swiped through the folders for Adam with a harsh frown. “There’s nothing new in their files. Just that his last known residence was in Mercy Heights. But we’ve already had the police check his apartment, and it looked like he’d up and fled. No one’s seen him since.”

“Even our facial recognition program hasn’t seen them,” Lewis added. “So wherever they are, they haven’t left their hidey holes.”

If he was even still alive.

“Find him,” I said, meeting London’s gaze, my heart racing. Because if we guessed right, then the workers from Micah’s trial were the only ones in trouble right now, not the labs in general. “Now.”

Even before I finished speaking, I sensed something… off. Faintly, I heard the wail of an alarm, but before I could investigate the noise, a hum filled the air, and the faintest pressure against my shields had me jerking my gaze toward the front windshield.

A man stood in the middle of the street in the distance. Even from this here and with the downpour of rain, I recognized him instantly.

His arms opened wide, and his eyes closed as a pulse of energy shot through the air. Alarms blared left and right from parked cars, and the streetlights lining the street on either side burst.

Our radio frizzled in and out, switching back and forth between stations.

“Stop! Stop the van!” I shouted.

No one answered. No one…

Horrified, I glanced around the van, noting the blank expressions the team all wore.

The van was still moving. And not just moving. We were speeding up. We were diverting slightly from the road, heading in the direction of several buildings. If we crashed at this speed, we’d be crushed as easily as a soda can.

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