Once through the security locks at the InterSec unit, she registered a jumble of body signatures in the main corridor. Some she recognized as other agents and staffers, but several were unknown. She stopped at Cress’s office. Why, she didn’t know, maybe to confirm what Rhys had said, maybe to pretend that she had misheard him. Cress kept her office neat and utilitarian, but now it felt more so than usual. Not a book or specimen jar or document was out of place, everything tidy. Cress wasn’t there and hadn’t been. Others had, though—more strange body signatures.

She strode down the hall to Terryn’s office, slowing at the sound of a woman’s voice she recognized. Genda Boone spun slowly in Terryn’s chair, a cell phone to her ear. She smiled and waved Laura in. Perplexed, she sank into the guest chair.

“No, Damine, it’s on the top of my dresser . . . Yes, the blue one. Send it down. I want to wear it this afternoon. Then call Jarnell and tell him I have five more people coming for dinner. No pork and no peppers . . . Yes, she’s in town. I have to go.” She disconnected.

She pulled the chair closer to the desk, her broad translucent wings flaring out to the sides. “I’m so glad you came in, Mariel. This is all so odd and sudden, and I haven’t had time to figure out who’s who and what’s what.”

Laura smiled diplomatically. “I’m a little confused myself. Where’s Terryn?”

Genda’s thin eyebrows shot up. “You don’t know? He took a sudden leave of absence.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “It’s related to the leanansidhe, I’m sure, but no one’s talking. Well, everyone’s talking, but I can’t get confirmation. Where in Danu’s name have you been, dear?”

She tried not to show her surprise. “I was . . . in a closed meeting. When did this happen?”

Genda shuffled papers, her gaze ranging avidly across the desktop. “About an hour ago. I received the call shortly afterward. Where does he keep his calendar? Don’t tell me he took it with him.”

“Genda, what are you doing here?”

Genda paused, a sympathetic smile on her face as she leaned forward and placed her hands on the desk. “Is this going to be awkward, Mariel? I mean, it is awkward, but this kind of thing happens all the time. Besides, it’s not like I will be here twenty-four/seven.”

Laura hid a sense of dread. Genda had never been a field agent. As far as Laura knew, she had no idea how to run a field operation. “Here? You’ve been transferred here?”

She tapped the desk. “Yes, dear. I thought you understood. I was asked to be acting director until, well, I don’t know when. Like I said, it’s all so sudden, I haven’t had a chance to tell Damine to order business cards.”

Terryn? Laura sent.

I can’t talk now, he replied.

Tell me if you are safe, she sent.

Genda’s cell phone vibrated on the desk. She snatched it, holding a hand up to Laura. “Wait, I need to take this . . . Yes, James, I’m here. I need the algorithm this afternoon. Those numbers look suspicious, and I’m positive there’s more to it than a little embezzlement . . . Oh, good. Great. Did you get the confections I sent? Aren’t they marvelous? It’s a shop in the French Quarter I found last week, darling woman runs it. Human, but I can’t hold that against her after I tasted that layered pastry . . . Yes, I want Chicago in on this and put a call up to Davis in New York. Tell him it’s the real-estate firm I’m interested in, not that silly shell company they have as a front . . . Okay, good. I have to go.”

She disconnected. “I’m sorry. Do you see? I have my other duties to attend to as well.”

“I’m still confused,” Laura said.

Genda nodded vigorously. “I know, I know. Honestly, I’m not going to be looking over your shoulder. I’ve been asked to assess and reprioritize and keep things running as smoothly as possible.”

“You’re in charge,” Laura said. It wasn’t a question as much as a need for her to hear the words aloud.

“Yes, dear, what’s wrong? Thank Danu you were in his group. A situation like this is hard enough without knowing whom to trust. I know I can rely on you to do . . . whatever you do.” She laughed high and loud. “What do you do? We’ve never been in the same branch before.”

Laura clicked into professional mode—no showing of emotion, no disclosing of true thoughts. Not working for Terryn macCullen was something she had not expected without some kind of warning. “Investigations. Political considerations,” she said.

Genda nodded again. “Yes, I’ve assumed as much for years. You’re working on these fey attacks, aren’t you? Why isn’t Community Liaison handling that? Wait . . . you don’t need to answer that. I know, I know. Let’s push it back to them anyway. It’ll go in their queue, and we can focus on what’s important. Who else is on that assignment? I see only your name. You can’t be handling it alone.” She laughed again. “Oh, that sounded wrong. Of course you can handle it alone. I meant that more as surprise that they would burden you with something like this when you’re on the macCullen security detail.”

Terryn had said Sinclair was on probation until he proved himself, and he meant it—apparently to the point of not having evidence of his presence in the department if Genda’s lack of awareness was any indication. If that was what Terryn wanted, she wasn’t about to disclose anything until she understood what the hell was happening. “No one else,” she said, glad that Genda didn’t have her truth-sensing ability.

“Good. That makes things easier. Why don’t you focus on your security detail for now. Send me the file on what you have with the fey attacks, and I’ll make sure Community Liaison has everything.”

“Community Liaison coming in cold might derail the investigation,” Laura said.

Genda’s bracelets jingled as she moved Terryn’s things off the desk. “I know, it’s hard to let go of things, but I’m tasked with straightening out priorities. By the way, can I have a copy of the financial files you acquired during the Archives mission? Terryn sent me macrodata to analyze, and it would help if I had details.”

“I gave it all to Terryn,” she said.

Genda let out an exaggerated sigh. “I can’t speak for his strategy skills, but I do have to say his organizational skills leave a lot to be desired.” She shrugged. “Well, it is what it is. I’ll have to find where he put them. Anyway, I have a ton to get up to speed on. Can we regroup tomorrow?”

Laura stood. “Okay. I’ll send you my security schedule.”

Genda was already looking at her PDA. “Great. Your hair looks wonderful, by the way. Are you using a new conditioner?”

“Something like that,” she said.

Genda glanced up and smiled. “This is going to be fun working together.”

Laura gave her a tight smile as she stepped away. “I can’t begin to agree.”

She ducked into her office, retrieved an unregistered cell phone, and hurried down the corridor to Sinclair’s office. She surveyed the empty room, devoid of personality, as if it had recently been assigned to someone new who hadn’t quite moved in. Which was what it was. She dialed Sinclair’s direct line.

Sinclair picked up, his voice cautious. “Yes?”

“Jono, it’s me. Do you have anything personal in your office?”

“Not really,” he said.

She moved behind his desk. “Not ‘not really.’ I need a yes or no.”

“What’s going on?”

She pushed papers aside, mostly internal memos that didn’t have his name on them. “No time. Is there anything here that can identify you? Anything with your name or personal information?”

“No . . . Oh, wait. Some notes.”

“Where?”

He paused. “Top left drawer.”

She opened it and found a small stack of pink phone messages and scrap paper. She sorted through them. All in her handwriting. They were nothing important, quick scrawls to meet for lunch or reminders about meetings. “These notes?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you keep these for?”

A longer pause. “Because you wrote them.”

She started to laugh. In the midst of whatever crisis was unfolding, she found herself touched by the thought he had saved them.

“Look, throw them away. They don’t mean anything,” Sinclair said.

His embarrassed tone made her regret the laugh. “No, I’ll save them for you. Can you meet me in about an hour at the corner of O and Ninth?”

“Okay.”

“Gotta run.” She disconnected. She scooped up the notes and shoved them in her pocket. Taking one more look around, she made her way to the service elevator. As she walked through the accounting department, her mind whirled with unanswered questions. Whatever had happened had happened fast. Terryn would have told her his plans otherwise. She wanted to get to Cress and see what she could do to help. But first she had to write a memo justifying kicking her friend out of the building.