The small hairs on my arms stood on end. Instinctively I dove sideways. At that exact moment, the door exploded in a hail of automatic gunfire. I hit the ground hard and rolled, but the barrage followed me like a swarm of angry bees. I rolled as fast as I could and jumped to my feet, diving for cover into the alley. Not fast enough: I felt the sting of a bullet graze my shoulder.

Then, as suddenly as it began, it was quiet again. I was lying in a pile of rancid garbage and pigeon shit, bleeding and trying to stay as still as possible while a car screeched away. When I ran to the curb a smoke cloud from the tires still hung in the air. I could see the car ahead and a figure hanging out the window, throwing away the gun. He was wearing a ski mask, no gloves, and wrist bands. I reached for my revolver, but the shoulder wound tore wider and stopped me cold.

The street looked like the set of The Hound of the Baskervilles. Smoke was everywhere. I pushed through the haze toward the receding car until I found the gun lying in water and leaves. I don’t know a hell of a lot about guns but I was pretty sure it was an Uzi. That in itself was scary enough. To top that off, painted along the side of the gun were the words, “Cal McDonald.”

Venturing a guess, I’d say it was meant as a threat. Rank amateurs. That out-of-control hail of bullets could have just as easily hit me as not. Some warning. And writing my name on the weapon? That was just plain stupid.

Then I noticed the entire door to my building was gone, blown completely apart. At least I could get in now.

My shoulder was bleeding, but not bad. I’d be able to sew it up myself.

6

Blout sent Cain’s file to my apartment by courier. No phone records, and the rest I already knew. The evidence list, though—that I found fascinating. Most of the stuff was pretty standard, but I was surprised to see that an accountant who worked out of his home owned no calculator, computer, fax, or answering machine. His life seemed oddly devoid of modern conveniences.

About ten minutes after the courier dropped by, Blout called with the preliminary autopsy results. The heads of the first three victims were empty and sparkling clean. I was sure the rest would turn out the same. What did surprise me was what Blout said next.

Some of the corpses had been dead for more than five months.

I was getting the unsettling feeling this case was going to be a bit more difficult than my usual day-to-day monster-in-the-closet case. As far as I knew, Cain was the only loon to suck brains telepathically, and that ability died when I killed him. This was something new, something bigger, and something much, much deadlier. I wasn’t sure if that case had anything to do with this one, but it was all I had to work with. I needed to establish a timeline of Edgar Cain’s activities the day he started absorbing people’s brains.