Chapter Seven

Ty was undeniably pissed off, and he spent the rest of the day distracted by it. The more distracted he became with his and Zane's little personal interactions, the angrier he found himself. They had a murderertofindandTyhadthedeathofabrothertoavenge;hedidn'tneed tobeabsorbed inthislittleflingtheyhadstarted up.Andhecouldn't even shoutatZanetoreleasethefrustrationanymore.Itdidn'tseemrightafter whathadhappened between them.Hewasn'tusedtobeingangrywithout an outlet, and it was wearing him down.

They had finally returned to Federal Plaza and given their accounts of what had happened with the exploding computer. They were questioned about thebruises bothmendisplayed, andaboutwhytheyhadleftthescenewhen theyknewtheywouldhavetobequestioned. Tyhadbeenforcedtoputina calltoDickBurns inorder togetthedisgruntled investigators offtheir backs, and they had been sent on their way.

The rest of the day had been spent at the hotel, combing over files and notes as they searched for a thread.

It was beginning to rain once more, the drops hitting the hotel windowlazilywhenTyfinallyputhisworkdownandrestedhiselbowson thetable.Herubbed hishandsover hisfaceandgroaned plaintively. "Didwe eat lunch?" he asked sulkily.

"Nope,"Zaneanswereddistractedly. He'dfinallymanagedtosink himselfinautopsyreportsacouplehoursago,andthatsubjectmatterwas more than enough to quash any physical urges: hunger, sex, or otherwise.

"Can we eat lunch now?" Ty asked sarcastically.

Zane threw down his pen with a soft sigh. "Sure," he agreed.

Ty leaned back in his chair, watching Zane studiously like he would a lioninthezoo.Hewasirritatedwithhim,formorereasonsthanthefactthat hehadbeenmadetoleavehissiteearly.Mostly,Tywasirritatedbecause now when Zane did something,he found himself wonderingwhy.

Pushingthefilefoldersawaybeforescootingbackfromthetable, Zanestretched oncehewasstanding, armsabovehishead,eyesclosed ashe rolledhisneck.He'dbeentenseallmorning, andsittinghunched overcase files all afternoonhadn't helped either.

"Want to call it a day?" Ty asked neutrally.

Zanearchedhisbackandseveralvertebrae popped. Herelaxedin reliefbefore opening hiseyes."I'llbefineafterabreak. Allthisshitis swimmingaroundrightnow,"hemutteredwithawaveofhishandathis head.

Ty merely nodded, watching Zane impatiently.

Zanereturnedthelookimpassively. "So.Roomservice?Goingout?" Thethoughtofacigarettewasreassuring,sinceitdidn'tlooklikehe'dbe havinganotherfuckanytimesoon.ThefactthatTywaspissedwaspretty easy to decipher.

Typressedhislipstightlytogetherandcockedhisheadtotheside thoughtfully."Going out could be risky," he observed in a flat tone. "I haven't spotted a tail yet, but that doesn't mean we don't have one."

Zanenodded absently andwalked overtothedresser where he'd tossed thehotel book withthemenuinit.He'd thought Tywould want toget out and roam, as restless as the man obviously was. But he'd learned yesterdaythattherewasnotellingwhatTywoulddo.Tryingtoanticipate himwasaneffortinfutility,onethatoftenproduced aheadache. Hepaged through thebookwhereitlayonthetopofthepieceoffurniture. Ty'seyes stayedonhimashemoved.Heseemedtobewaitingforsomething. The silence stretched thin as Zane did his best to ignore it.

"Should I go back to my room tonight?" Ty asked out of the blue. "Or willwebeabletoworktogether andfuckeachothersenseless atthesame time?"

Zane jerked hischin around tostareatTywith wideeyes foralong moment.Heopenedhismouthtosaysomethingandcloseditrightback beforetryingagain."Icanworkwiththefucking," hesaid.JesusChrist,he sounded like an idiot!

Ty snorted. "Good," he said flatly, the smile dropping again. "As long as we keep it at that, we're fine."

Narrowing hiseyes,ZaneturnedtowardTy,bringingthemenuwith him."Keepitatthat?"heaskedcuriously.Yeah,theyseemedtohaveahell ofalotofchemistry,andtherehadbeenafewscarilytendermoments,but Zane knew better than to read anything into it.

"Right," Tyanswered, eitheroblivious totheimplied question ornot caring to elaborate.

Rather thanpushing forananswer, Zaneheldoutthemenu,buthe kept his eyes on Ty, watching him.

"I'lltakewhatIhadlastnight,"Tyansweredashelookeddownat the menu and back up at Zane with a small smirk.

The other man raised an eyebrow, giving Ty a look of wry amusement asheyankedthemenuback."Ifiguredyou'dwantwhatyouhad for breakfast,"he tossed out as he walked over to the phone.

Tychuckled darkly,thesoundalmostdisturbing ashesatinthe shadowed cornerofthehotelroomandrockedbackinhischair.Hewatched Zane, tracking him like a predator tracks its prey as the bigger man moved.

Zanedialed room service andordered acouple dinners anda dessert—very awareofTy'seyesfollowing him.Murmuring acurtgoodbye, hehungupthephone andsatbackdown atthetable,pushing folders around andtakingtheopportunitytolookatmoreautopsyphotosbeforethefood arrived.HestudiouslyavoidedlookingatTy.Itwasbetterforhismental health that way.

Tycockedhishead,idlywondering whyZanewassodiligently ignoring himnow.Finally heshrugged itoffandpulledoutathickfilefrom the package a courier had delivered from Washingtonearlier that day.

Tyhad called onabuddy inthemain office tosearch upany unexplained murders inthe past ten years, and then hadhim fax alist. He had picked and chosen from the list of murders, requesting files that could possibly fit their case to try and track the man responsible.

Healsohadastackoffilesoneveryagentthathadworkedinthe New York office inthe past ten years, including one onhimself. He would go through themallafterhefinished with theoldfiles,andhewould make alist ofthelocations everyagenthadworked before beingassigned toNewYork. Allhehadtodowasfind amurder thatfittheir serial,which wasmore easily saidthandone,consideringtheguyhadnoMOtospeakof,andthenmatch up locations.

"This shit is easier with a computer nerd doing the work," he grumbled around the pencil in his teeth.

Zaneglancedupathimandsnortedsoftly,thenwentbacktohis notes.

Tylooked up athim, frowning unconsciously, then back tothe filehe hadinhishand.Itwasanunsolved murder inBaltimorefromroughly five years ago. Asheread, hebegan tofrown harder and harder. "Iknow this," he murmured asheflippedthrough thepages."Jesus,Irememberthis,"he mutteredtohimself."Januarynineteenth,"hecontinued,notcaringifZane was paying attention to him or not.

ThevictimhadbeenfoundonthecampusoftheUniversity of Maryland's SchoolofLaw.Hehaddied—after beingdraggedthroughthe streetsbehindwhatappearedtohavebeenasmall,slow-movingvehicleof somesort—of alcoholpoisoning. Thereallyinteresting thingthatTyhad remembered fromthiscasewastheidentityofthevictim.Hehadbeen rumoredtobeBaltimore'sinfamousPoeToaster,themanwhohad,since 1949, visited thegrave oftheauthor Edgar Allan Poeandtoasted him with cognac. The visits, which had actually been observed bymany in the city, had stopped after that year.

"Find anything interesting?"Zane asked as he watched.

Tyansweredwithagrunt.Apieceofpaperhadjoinedthepencilin hismouth,thefilespreadonhisknees,andeachhandwasholdingseveral sheetsofpaperashereadoverwhatheremembered. HewavedatZaneand pointed down.

Zanesmiled almost fondly before forcing itback,andhepulled the paper andpencil from between Ty'slipswhenhestopped athisside.He looked down at the file. "MarylandSchool of Law, huh?"

"Iremember this," Tysaidtohim."Ithasalltheearmarks. Unfortunately it'sjustasrandomasallthenewones.Buttherewasatoken left," he said almost excitedly as he pointed at the notes in the original file. "A quill.We know hewasinBaltimore," hedeclared inavoicethatwasalmost surprised.

"IfhewasinBaltimoreattheuniversity, hecouldverywellhave appliedtotheBureaustraightoutofschool,"Zanemurmured."Orhewent into forensicsor law enforcementand got familiarwith the Bureaujust because of proximity."

"We should cross-check allagents whowere inBaltimore in'04," Ty suggested.

Zane nodded in agreement."Sounds like it might be a break."

"Here," Ty grunted as he handed the file over. "Take a gander."

Zane took the file and moved back to his seat as he began to read over it.

"Irememberthatonehappening,"Tytoldhimashestoodupand begantopace."Itwaslabeled ahatecrimekindofthing," hewenton."You see,thevictim wasthisguycalled thePoeToaster. Hewasactually the grandson oftheoriginal Toaster, themanwhowouldsneakintoagraveyard every yearonEdgar Allan Poe's birthday and toast him with cognac. Sometimes heleftnotes.Well,inninety-nine thisnewguystarteditafterhis fatherdied,andheleftmoreelaboratenotes.OneyearhesaidthatFrench cognac wasn't good enough forPoe;thatwasrightafter9/11,Ithink, andthe French had refused to join the terrorist hunt. Then in two thousand four he left anote saying theRavens were going tolose theSuper Bowl. Itpissed alotof people off."

"God,anything butNFLrivalries," Zanemuttered. "So,alcohol poisoning—that takesahellofalotifit'saone-timething,especiallyifhe wasn'tanalcoholic.It'dbemorelikedrowning."Heflippedthroughthe pages, looking for the autopsy report.

"Hewasalsodraggedthroughthestreets,"Typointedout."Leftin the snow.Butif it didn'tmatter whothe victimwas,liketheyinitially thought, then the death itself is even more important."

"Oddcombination ofmethods,"Zanemurmured, readingthereport. "He wasn't an alcoholic.His liver was fine."

TywatchedZanewithoutresponding.Therewerethingsaboutthis case thatwere flitting athismind, likebatsaround themouth ofacave. They weredriving himcrazy,andhecouldn't catchasingleone."Thoughts?" he asked softly.

"Either someone gothim todrink ahugeamount orhewasinjected," Zane said with certainty.He read over the report again. "But no tracks found."

"You think he knew his attacker?" Ty questionedsoftly.

Zane'sbrowfurrowed. "Nosignsofstruggle, except themarksfrom theropesusedtodraghim.Noscrapings underfingernails. Hewasalready unconsciouswhenhewasdragged."Shakinghishead,helethiseyesgoout offocus. "Ibethedid.Ibetheknew him. Even trusted him.Afriend or colleague. Someone to celebrate with, to drink more than usual with. Slip him a drug to make him pliable and apt to drink even more."

Ty was nodding in agreement. "It's the epicenter," he murmured. "I'll call Burns, tell him to have someone get on it."

"Tellhim about theflagging wewant done. Require Baltimore—hometown, school,evenfamily,"Zanesaiddistractedly, stilllookingthrough the file.

"Uh-huh," Ty respondedas he unclippedhis phone from his belt.

AsTytalked,Zanegotdeeperintothefileand,squinting, gotupto shiftstacksofpapersforothercasefilesonthedesk.Tyrelayedwhatthey haduncovered toBurnsassoonashewasassuredthelinewassecure.The man seemed dubious about the Baltimore connection atfirst, but itdidn't take longforTytoconvince him,Zanenoted.AsmuchofafuckupasTyseemed tohavebeenintheBureau,Burnshadalwaystrustedhimandtreatedhim almost like a son. Zane couldn't help but wonder why.

Soon, Tywasoffthephone andpacing again. Finally hestopped and glared at Zane. "I'm hungry."

"Mm-hmm,"Zaneansweredfaintly,threecasefileslaidoutinfront of him. Ty frowned and watched him.

"You find something?"he asked hopefully.

"No,"Zanesaid,drawingitoutsincehewasstillreading."Ididn't. No struggle."

"What?" Ty asked in confusion.

"Nostruggle.Nosignsofstruggle.Sometimesthevictimsweretied orwrappedup,buttherewerenobruises,noclawmarks,noabrasions.No sign that they fought before they were murdered," Zane said, frown deepening as he grabbed for another file. "That can't be right."

"How is that possible?" Ty asked softly. "He can't have knownall his victims. You think he's using a badge to keep them cooperating?"

"Why couldn'the haveknown them?"Zane askedcalmly as he looked up.

"'Causeit'dbesortaobvioustohisotheracquaintancesthatthey wereslowlydwindling ingruesome ways,"Tysnapped. "Unless they're professionalcontacts,"he corrected slowly.

"Or amix. Professional. Personal. Family. Past friends from school or college," Zane proposed.

"You know how unlikely thatis?" Tyasked dubiously, unconsciously taking on the same tone Burns had with him. "Besides, I don't care how well I knowsomeone, theystart trying tochopmeupI'm going tofightback," he declared.

"It'snotprobable. Butit'spossible. NewYorkisahellofabigcity. You could have friends inallkinds ofplaces andthey'd never know each other," Zane said, closing the files and stacking them together.

"Oh, fuck you and your logic, Garrett," Ty sulked as he began to pace again.

"Give me geometry any day," Zane muttered. "I hate algebra."

Tystopped."Weshouldcheckthevictimsforpriors,"hestated."If the killer's a Fed, he might be finding his victims through his job."

"Weneedtheirworkups. Priors,work,church,family,school...any oneofthosecouldbeaconnection. Hell,moonlighting. Boyfriend.Knitting circle," the other agent mumbled.

"Weshouldalsocheckwitnessfiles,"Tymurmured. "Theymaynot havebeenperpsifhewasinvestigating. Couldhavebeenwitnesses.Butno one'sgoingtoconvincemethatabadgecouldkeepsomeonefromfighting for their life."

"Chloroform," Zanesaidsuddenly,pointingtothepaperinfrontof him. "The ME notes traces of chloroformin some of the autopsies."

"That'll do it," Ty conceded with a frown.

"Yeah,"Zaneagreed,nodding.Hejerkedalittlewhentherewasa knock at the door.

"I got it," Ty muttered as he stood and began to shuffle barefoot to the door. The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end, and the feeling thatsomething wasamissassaulted himlikeitsometimes hadbackwhenhe wasintheservice.Heslowedashenearedthedoor,evaluatingthegut reactiontotheknockandlickinghislipsashehesitated.Finally,hestepped uptothe peephole and peered through, his hand onthe gun atthesmall ofhis back.

Zanestiffened ashesawTyreachforhisgun,andhepicked uphis own from thedresser right next tohim.Hewatched carefully, staying just out of a direct line of sight from the door.

ButTyrelaxedashesawthehotelserveroutsidewiththefood,and hewondered whyhewassoedgy.Heopened thedoorandgreeted theserver withoutfurtheralarm,andafterthefoodhadbeenplacedandtheserverleft, Ty looked at Zane and shrugged."I'm a little tense," he admitted abashedly. It wasn't the first time he had said the words to Zane.

"Morethanalittle."Zanelookedathimevenly."Don'tignorethose instincts. Yours are sure to be better than mine."

"Shutup,"Tyhuffedimmediately. Henarrowedhiseyesashelifted thelidoffhisplateandhecutaglanceatZaneandsmiled."Whydoyou think I'm sleeping inhere with you?" heasked wryly. "'Cause Igetskeered easily."

"Thoughtit was for my scintillatingconversation,"Zane said drolly.

"For your scintillating something, anyway," Ty responded distractedly as he sat down and pulled his plate to him.

Zane chuckled and took up his plate, but not until he snatched a fry off Ty's.Hehadmozzarellasticksinstead offries.He'ddecided spurofthe moment to pass on the onion rings. Just in case.

"Thief," Ty murmuredsulkily.

Zane winked and held out a mozzarella stick to placate him.

TyglaredatitstubbornlyandthensnatcheditoutofZane'shand. "Have you noticed anyone tailing us?" he asked before biting off the tip of the mozzarella stick and yipping as the hot cheese hit his tongue.

"Sure; I just didn't say anything because I'm an idiot," Zane answered flippantly.

"Jesus, you didn't tell me these damn things were nuclear," Ty gruntedashepulledthecheeseoutofthebreadedexteriorandtriedtono avail to shake it off his finger.

"Ifigured thefacttheywerestillsteaming might beaclue,"Zane drawled.

"Shut up," Tymuttered asheshifted inhisseat,unconsciously betraying a bit of lingeringsoreness.

Zane's brow furrowed ashewatched Tymove uncomfortably, and he blinked when herealizedwhy.Hewasreallyhard-pressed nottogrin,buthis lips still twitched.

"Stop it,"Tymuttered athim ashetriedtoeatthecooling cheese off his finger.

Zaneverycarefullyschooledhisface,thoughhiseyeswerestill bright and dancing. HegotthebetterofTysorarely, hecouldn't letitgojust yet."Just letmeknow ifyoucan't handle hot and spicy," heteased, taking another biteofthehotcheese stick.Hewasprobably pushing hisluck, but what the hell.

"Another bad pun, and I'm going to hit you," Ty warned.

Zane couldn't resist. "How do you know I wouldn't like it?"

Tyglaredathim,pondering thatquestion withnarrowed eyes, reviewing Zane'spersistence inthatfight.Thecellphoneathishipbeganto ring demandingly,probably saving Zane from another left hook to the chin.

Tysnappeditoffhisbeltandlookeddownatthereadout.Hecursed asheflipped thephone open. "It'sabout fucking time,"hegroused intothe phone as he set his plate down. "Are you Steve Number One or Steve Number Two?" he asked the detective on the line sarcastically.

"Hey,"themanontheotherendofthecallprotested. "Wewerejust told about you guys, shithead. Don't start with me."

"We've been cooling our fucking heels for days!" Ty shouted as Zane pushed his plate away and got up to head for the bathroom.

"It's not my fucking fault you governmentboys need someone to hold your dicks for you," Detective Steve Pierce chastised. "How soon can you get here?"

"Giveusthirty,"Tygroanedashepushedhisownplateawayand glancedtowardthebathroom,hearingthewaterrun."No.Giveusanhour," hecorrected ashetried to calculatetheafternoon traffic. He got up and began pacing as Zane walked back into the room and began pulling his shoes on.

Tyexchangeda fewmorewordswithDetectivePierceandthen ended the call, flopping back onto his bed with a long, heartfelt groan.

"So. Did they even know we were here?" Zane asked knowingly.

"Saidtheyfoundoutthismorning," Tyanswered dubiously. "I'm really beginningto feel a little like a salmon here..."

"Swimmingupstream?Yeah,Igetthatfeelingtoo,"Zaneagreedas hepulled aplain gray dress shirt over his head and tucked itin.He stilled and lookedTyover."Youlookexhausted,"hesaidfrankly.Hehadn'tnoticed before, butTyhadthelookofamanwhohad beenburning both endsofthe candle. "Have you been sleeping at all?" he asked worriedly.

"Don't take my insomnia personally,"Ty respondedwryly. "I don't."

Zane glanced up. "Insomnia."He frowned and went back to his boots. "Sorry," he said curtly. "I've heard it sucks."

"What?" Ty prodded as he saw the reaction.

"What what?" Zane asked, not looking up from his lacing.

"What was the look for?" Ty asked defensively.

Zanepushedawaythethreatening nervesandclampeddownonhis emotional reaction, onethatcametothesurface fartooquickly forhisliking. "There was no look," he said stubbornly.

"Bullshit,"Ty huffed as he sat back up and leaned back on his hands.

Zane finished tying off the shoe and started in on the second, deliberately not looking up at all. He wasn't getting back into all the screeching-violinsstuff.He'dfinallyfuckedTyintoasomewhat human condition. Nowaydidhewanttoruinthat.Zane alreadyfelttotallyoff-kilter—something he'dverymuchliketoblametheothermanfor—andhis handleonhimselffeltshaky.Hehatedfeelingshaky.Itremindedhimtoo much of withdrawal.

Ty picked up apillow and chucked itathim, hitting him on the top of theheadashebentover.Zaneclosedhiseyesandgrowleddangerously deep inhisthroat.Okay,somaybeinhumancondition wasaslightoverstatement. He kept on lacing. Next thing, he predicted, Ty would accuse him of clamming up again.

"Fine," Tysighed witharollofhiseyesashepushed himself offthe bed. "You wanna have an ulcer at forty, be my guest," he grumbled.

"Fuckoff,"Zanemuttered. He'dmissedoutontheulcersbysome miracle, buthedidn'tremember hisfortieth birthday. Hewasn't surehe remembered anyofthatyear,actually. Heleanedonhiskneesandclosedhis eyes,headbowed.Zanewishedhedidn'trememberthehorrificandheart-wrenching dreamsthathadplagued himafterBeckydied.Andhecertainly didn'twanttotrytoexplainhowhe'dwishedandwishedandpleadedfor insomnia,time and time again.

"Oh,Christ, notagain, Garrett," Tymuttered inexasperation. "Really?"heaskedincredulously."Doweneedtogetashrinkinherefor you?"

Angerflared,andZanestoodabruptly. "There's nogoddamn shrink that can help me at this point, asshole.You want to know what I was thinking? Iwasthinking thattherehavebeennightsIwould havetaken insomniaforablessing.Now,stickthefuckingorchestraandgetdressedso we can get out of here."

"Idiot," Ty hissed derogatorily. "You're so used to running and hidingfromyourproblems youcan't getyourhead outofyourass.You're letting your past run your life, and I'm getting fucking tired of it."

"AndIsuppose youhavealltheanswers, Dr.Grady? Gotthathead-shrinking degreeinyourbackpocketallniceandshiny?Youhavenoidea what I've got in my past to deal with," Zane growled.

"AndIdon'twannaknow,"Tystatedwithnocompassion."Pastis the past for a reason."

"Andsomeofushadagoodenoughoneatsomepointtowantto remember it,despiteallthenightmares," Zanesnappedback."Untilyou understand whatitmeanstohaveyourheadputinagoddamn blenderwhile you try to hang on to somethingprecious, quit giving me this shit."

Tygapedattheman,wonderingifheevenhadtherighttobringup allthenightsofhellheandhisReconboyshadgonethroughovertheyears. IfZaneknewthethingshedreamed,hemightnotbecomplaining quiteso much. Finally, he decided thatthis stupid argument wasn't worthy of bringing it up, and he waved his hand dismissively.

ZaneblinkedasTyjustblewhimoff."Un-fucking-believable,"he muttered, turning tostartshoving histhingsinhispockets. Hewasworking withanemotionallystuntedasshole.Cometothinkofit,itexplainedso much. Zanehadtoswallow asmuch ontheresidual anger asonthepityhe didn't dare let the other man see.

Tychangedquicklyintosomethingthatwouldn'tgethimkickedout of the federal building. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror and shook his headangrily, muttering tohimself. Zanewasstarting topisshimoffagain. Whichwasgood,hesupposed.Itmeanttheurgetolickhimalloverwas passing, atleast.Hetook adeepbreath andwentstalking back outintothe main room and grabbed for his leather jacket. Zane stood atthe window, arms crossed, staring out at nothing while lost in thought.

"Backtobrooding, Isee,"Tyobserved wrylyashepattedhischest down,makingcertainhisgunsweren'toverlyobviousbeforeheshrugged into his jacket. "Better than actively whining, I guess."

Zanewassilentforamomentlongerbeforegruntingandmovingto thetabletostartstacking folders. "Yeah, well,Iguessyouhaven't fucked it out of me yet," he muttered.

"Gonna takemore thanIcould everdo,"Tyshotbackashegathered his badge and wallet.

Shaking hishead,Zanefellquietagain.Hecouldn't keepupthe argumentifhehadanyintentionofconductinghimselfproperlyonthejob. AllitwouldtakewouldbeonegoodcomplaintbacktoBurnsabouthislack ofprofessionalism. AndasmuchaslocalcopshatedFeds?Zanedidn'twant totakeanychances. Heshoved several filesintoacanvas briefcase andthen reached for his gun.

It was going to be a long fucking day.