“Psychic?” I questioned, and he frowned.

“Okay, I’m kidding about the psychic, but if you put one manicured nail over that threshold before I say, I’ll throw you out of here faster than stink on snake.”

Faster than stink on snake? He must have been serious if he was mixing his metaphors.

“You want an ACG suit?” he asked, his eyes shifting from mine to the dog van.

I took a slow breath at the subtle threat. Anticharm gear. The last time I tried to take Trent down, he had killed the witness right out from under me. “No,” I said.

My subdued tone seemed to satisfy him. “Good,” he said, turning and striding away.

Jenks hovered before me, waiting. His dragonfly wings were red in excitement and the sun caught the glitter of pixy dust. “Let me know what you find, Jenks,” I said, glad at least one representative from our sorry little firm would be there.

“You bet, Rache,” he said, then zipped after Glenn.

Edden silently joined me, and I felt as if we were the only two people in high school who hadn’t been invited to the big pool party, standing across the road and watching. We waited with an edgy Trent, an indignant Sara Jane, and a tight-lipped Quen as Glenn knocked at the door to announce his FIB presence—as if it wasn’t obvious—and unlocked it.

Jenks was the first one in. He darted out almost immediately, his flight somewhat ragged as he landed on the railing. Glenn leaned in, then out of the black rectangular opening. “Get me a mask,” I heard him mutter, clear through the hush.

My breath came fast. He had found something. And it wasn’t a dog.

Hand over her mouth, an FIB officer extended a surgical mask to Glenn. A foul stench came faintly over the comforting aroma of hay and manure. My nose wrinkled, and I glanced at Trent to see his face empty. The parking lot went silent. An insect shrilled and another answered it. By the upstairs door, Socks whined and pawed at her handler’s legs as she looked for reassurance. I felt ill. How had they missed the smell before? I’d been right. It had to have been spelled to keep it contained in the room.

Glenn took a step into the room. For a moment his back was bright with sun, then he took another to disappear, leaving an empty black door frame. A uniformed FIB officer handed him a flashlight from the threshold, a hand over her mouth. Jenks wouldn’t look at me. His back was to the door as he stood on the railing, his wings bowed and unmoving.

My heart hammered and I held my breath as the woman in the doorway backed up and Glenn came out. “It’s a body,” he said to a second young officer, his soft voice carrying clear down to us. “Detain Mr. Kalamack for questioning.” He took a breath. “Ms. Gradenko, too.”

The officer’s response was subdued, and she headed down the stairs to find Trent. I triumphantly looked to Trent, then sobered as I imagined Dr. Anders dead on the floor. I superimposed the memory of watching Trent kill his leading researcher, so quick and clean with a ready alibi waiting to be implemented. I had caught him this time, having moved too fast for him to cover his butt.