Free Hunting the Shadows by Alexia Reed

compound. This was a stranger.
    “No, damn it. What’s going on? I’m not dropping this. Mackenzie’s going to be pissed off at us as is for leaving her down there.”
    “I said drop it and leave me alone. What don’t you understand?”
    “How about every part of it?” J.C. dropped a hand on Stefan’s shoulder.
    Stefan’s eyes flashed with vehemence. Claw-like energy shredded ruthlessly through his defenses. Before he had time to react he was on the ground, past injuries tearing through his skin and spilling his blood.
    He couldn’t breathe, liquid filling his lungs.
    And as he lay there dying, as he struggled to pull in every last breath, he watched Stefan walk away, without ever glancing back.
    It was too much. Desperate to free herself, to get out before she became lost, Amy fought the ensnaring shadows of his mind. His brain would do the rest and reboot J.C.’s system now that the proper memory files were replaced. He would remember. He had to.
    Now, as she escaped back to herself, sensation flooded back. She began to convulse and this time, she gave in to the agony that radiated through her. Her job was done.
    * * *
    The morgue’s chill was nothing compared to the raw, penetrating feeling in the pit of his stomach.
    J.C. pulled out the middle drawer of the refrigerator. Easing the thin sheet away from the corpse’s face, he stared down at case file number 2431—otherwise known as Leila. His fingers itched to touch her, but he didn’t know why. She was just another corpse. Sliding his hand over her hair, he brushed the blond strands away from her face and the ugly bruises there.
    A whisper stirred, deep within his mind, a brush of phantom knowledge. He knew her, had grown up around her, but something else niggled at his brain. It was there, at the edge of his thoughts, just out of reach before it slid back into the fog.
    He furrowed a brow as he reached for her wrist, turning it over so he could look at the tattoo. When that didn’t jog his memory to explain the hollow feeling in his gut, J.C. let it go. He walked away and retrieved the file from the counter, then returned to the body.
    According to the autopsy report, cause of death was the slit throat. He didn’t need an expert to give him that conclusion. He had eyes of his own. She couldn’t have survived such a wound. The blade had cut through the fourth and fifth cervical vertebrae, nearly severing her head from her body.
    She had remarkably few defense wounds on her body and her toxicology screen had come back negative for any kind of drugs or alcohol. Not only had she not been subdued by chemical means, she hadn’t fought back.
    “She knew her killer,” he said softly.
    The door behind him made a soft whooshing sound as it opened. Angling himself, he looked over at Ajay as she strolled toward him. “What are you doing in here, J.C.?”
    “I don’t need to justify my actions to you.”
    “That’s not what I meant.” Her gaze dropped to the deep neck wound on the body. All color drained from her cheeks, making him wonder if she was going to have to make a dash for a garbage can. Because he’d rather not have to clean chunks of food off his shoes, he reached down and pulled the sheet over Leila’s body, covering her completely.
    “I’m doing my job, Ajay, and making sure nothing was missed. It’s called being thorough,” he said coolly, picking the file back up. Thumbing through the rest of the forms, J.C. skimmed over the description of the wounds. “He walked right up to her and she didn’t fight him. Why wouldn’t she fight back?”
    “She had to have trusted him.”
    “We’re missing something.” He wasn’t sure why he was here. Tristan was the most plausible suspect and he was now dead. The Council had already ruled the case closed. “Did she know Tristan?”
    “I don’t know when they would have interacted. He was in a whole different division.” She shrugged and settled herself onto a chair, spinning it toward the