Free Deadfall by Anna Carey Page B

it.
    The two spots were meant to be read together .
    “What’s wrong?” he asks.
    “Nothing. Everything’s great. Everything’s amazing.”
    “Amazing?” His brows draw together.
    “I found an address—a corner. It must be where they meet.”
    “Who?”
    “The other targets.”
    You take the map, grabbing the knapsack from the floor. It was stupid not to take the hunter’s gun.
    You grab your hat from the dresser and pull it low over your eyes, making sure your hair covers the scar. The corner can’t be more than a ten-minute walk from here. You should call Celia first to check in. It’s only 10:45 in LA.
    “You’re going there now?” Ben sits up.
    “I’ll be back in an hour.”
    “No,” he says, grabbing your sweatshirt from the floor. “I’m coming with you.”
    Celia picks up on the first ring. “Did you get the picture I just sent you?”
    “I did, but it’s pretty blurry. This is another hunter that came after you? I’ll do my best to ID her, but it’s going to be tricky. By the looks of her, I doubt she has a police file. But I’ll try.”
    “Thanks,” you say, keeping your head down as you walk east. “How’s Izzy? Is she out yet?”
    “Izzy’s out . . . yes.”
    Her voice sounds far away, the connection more static than usual. “You’re in your car?”
    “Yeah, I’m driving home. Hands-free, don’t worry.” There’s something strange in her tone, like she wants desperately to hang up and lie down somewhere, to just shut her eyes. She sounds exhausted.
    “What’s wrong?” Your stomach feels hollow.
    “It’s Goss.”
    “They let him out?”
    “No . . . worse.”
    “What could possibly be worse?”
    She waits a beat and all you can hear is the sound of traffic rushing past. “What’s worse?” you repeat.
    “He’s dead.”
    You stop, taking cover in a nearby doorway. You sit down against the wall.
    “AAE got to him in jail. They had him killed.”
    “So what now? What do we do?”
    “We start again. I’m still talking to my contact in Seattle. There was a body found in New York—a boy with a tattoo on the inside of his wrist.”
    “In Morningside Park.”
    “Right. So you know about him.”
    “Isn’t that enough evidence?” You voice breaks when you say it. “What more do you need?”
    “We don’t have a single suspect, Lena,” Celia says. “That’s what we need.”
    You look up. Ben is frozen on the sidewalk. He’s studying your face, wondering what’s wrong. I just need more time. “I’ll get you more information. I’ll find something myself.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN
    THE BLOOD RUNS down Theo’s forearm, dripping onto the tile floor. He grabs one of the thick terry-cloth towels from beside the health club sink and applies pressure to the bite wound. He didn’t think she had it in her. Very few actually break the skin.
    He looks at himself in the mirror. His jaw is swollen on the right side, but it’s nothing an hour or two of ice can’t fix. If he has to, he’ll tell Helene he got hit playing tennis. The scratches will be harder to account for. He’ll have to be conscious of wearing long sleeves until they heal.
    It’s two in the morning, but he isn’t tired. He hasn’t come down from the high. It was his first hunt here, in the city— his city. This is his first kill in New York since the Migration began, and the thrill is everything he’d hoped it would be. He had waited outside the shelter on Lafayette Street every eveningfor days, until he’d finally recognized one of the girls from the island. She was heavyset, with muscular shoulders and brown hair that was always back in a bun. He followed her for almost four hours before finding the spot by the seaport. She’d fought him as he’d dragged her behind the Dumpster.
    At the last second he’d decided not to use the gun, and he was thankful for it now, the memory of it still fresh. Her face as he choked her . . . He wouldn’t forget her face. It would carry him for