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I’ve got a bunch of questions about Shakopee for later.” So much to research; the mere thought made her giddy. Were there Shifter libraries? Shifter databases? There had to be. “Thanks for indulging my curiosity. But getting back to the point, Shakopee was the jumping off point, and if it had gone as planned, there were SAS sleeper cells all over the world ready to do the same thing, so long Stables, all hail furry Shifters? Right?”

Oz nodded. “Nutshell.”

“Nobody would ever ‘hail furry Shifters,’ but I see your point.”

“But that’s kind of what you’re dealing with right now, don’t you think? You got the Sindicate clerks, but not the boss. Or bosses.”

“Precisely our fear,” Garsea replied. “All we did was shut down the cell in Minneapolis. That was all we could do. But the Sindicate could be anywhere. Everywhere. That isn’t a misspelling, by the way—it’s how Caro refers to them.”

Jesus. Lila had, for a minute, forgotten about Caro’s involvement. House-training? Breaking kids to be pets? How long did they have her? How did she get away? No wonder she never talks and loves tool sheds and constantly throws silent snark!

She stomped on the questions before they could escape her big mouth. That was Caro’s business, just like the destruction of Lila’s first home was hers.

“It’s only been six months,” Oz said, picking up the narrative. “Maybe their remaining membership decided they’ve laid low long enough. Maybe they need more product. There’s also a good possibility they’re hard up for money. We were able to freeze millions in Lund’s funds.”

“So the Sindicate came out of hiding and targeted Sally? Because she checks a lot of their boxes—rare, vulnerable, almost an orphan?”

“It’s one theory,” Garsea admitted.

“But think about all the things that must’ve happened for that to be true. For starters, Sally’s only lived in Minnesota…what? Couple of weeks?” When Garsea and Oz nodded, Lila continued. “So they would have just spotted her. And they were going to grab her…how? By sabotaging Berne’s plane five hundred miles from here, when the Smalls family didn’t even know they were going to need it until a day or two before the crash?

“And then Sam got off the plane somehow, didn’t die, called Sally at IPA and told her to…hang out with me? Why? Did he know about the Sindicate? If he did, why did he and his wife leave Sally to fly east? And where the hell is he?”

“Those are all good—”

“And where does Berne fit in? Is he in on it? Or just a bystander? And why try to burn Macropi’s house down? How does that help them get their claws on Sally? All it did was piss us off and put everyone on their guard.”

“And wreck my carpets and some of the drapes,” Macropi added. “And my houseplants!”

“And now there are fire inspectors and insurance guys running around the neighborhood, and trust me, your neighbors are all gawking, too. Nothing brings out the lookie-loos like a house fire. So why draw that kind of attention?”

“As I said.” Garsea, who’d gotten up to freshen their drinks, handed her another screwdriver. “It’s a theory.”

“Look, I’m not trying to run you down…”

“Oh, we’re aware.” Garsea smirked. “If that’s what you were doing, I doubt there’d be any confusion on our end.”

“Touché. All I’m saying is, sometimes it’s not a great big conspiracy. Sometimes it’s bad luck and pilot error. Sally’s mom was sick—maybe that ties in somehow.”

“True,” Garsea agreed. “And I have to wonder if we’re missing the obvious. Perhaps Sam Smalls parachuted out of that plane?”

The shocked laugh was out before Lila could lock it back. “Sorry. But if he jumped, he’s dead. Simple as that. You can’t just shrug into a parachute pack and jump out of a random plane. It has to be specially modified, there are too many snag points. Your momentum is the same as the airplane’s when you jump, which is problematic for all sorts of reasons… When I was researching it a few years ago, I ran across a story where a crash in Finland killed eight skydivers. A parachute isn’t a magic wand.”

“You really like to research,” Garsea observed.

“I fucking love to research.”

“Yeah, those are all good points,” Oz admitted. “Nadia did check on Sally’s pilot qualifications. She got her license years ago, just after flight school but before she got out of the Twopers.”

“Flight school? And troopers? You guys have your own military?”

“Twopers. Slang for the Two Percenters,” Annette explained. “Which isn’t even accurate, it’s arguably four percent. And it’s nothing so organized. More like a militia whose primary function is more about protecting the community and our territory than going on the offense.”

Two percenters? Or four? Does it indicate the Shifter population? “Okay. So maybe not pilot error. But maybe not sabotage, either.”

Annette shrugged. “It’s what we have so far. We’ll keep at it.”

“Good.” They were using her, Lila realized, letting her bounce ideas off them to (hopefully) inspire cognition that would lead to an answer. “And I hate to admit it, but it looks like the whiteboard was a good idea. Right, Macropi?” Lila turned around. “Macropi? She was here two seconds ago.”

“Yeah, operative word was. First, she was tense since we’re sharing deep dark secrets with you. Then when you were appropriately grossed out and horrified by the Sindicate, she was relieved and approving. And then she got upset all over again about what Caro went through, so she slipped out to check on the cubs she knows are perfectly snug and safe. And when she comes in, she’s gonna overcompensate for all of it because she hates the thought of the Sindicate and of any of us being in danger. So she’s probably gonna b—”

The kitchen door twanged. “Who wants apple pie?”

“Me,” they all said at once. And Oz gave her such a warm smile, Lila couldn’t help grinning back.

Chapter 35

“Thanks for coming out with me.”

“No biggie. I needed some fresh air after spending the afternoon in a field.”

Oz chuckled

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