1 Blood Price by Tanya Huff

came up on the steel had most certainly not dropped off the wreck.
    She sat back on her heels and frowned. “I really, really don’t like the looks of this.”
    Fishing a marble from the bottom of her bag, she placed it on one of the remaining chalk marks and gave it a little push. It rolled toward the wall, moving away from the crack at almost a forty-five degree angle. Further experiments produced similar results. Blood, or for that matter anything else, could not have traveled from the body to the crack in any way that might be called natural.
    “Not that there’s anything even remotely natural about any of this,” she muttered, tucking this third sandwich bag of dried blood in beside the others and crawling after her marble.
    Rather than go back through the building. she climbed up the steeply graded driveway and out onto St. Clair Avenue West.
    “Excuse me?”
    The attendant in the booth looked up from his magazine.
    Vicki waved a hand back down the drive in the general direction of the underground garage. “Do you know what’s under the bottom layer of concrete?”
    He looked in the direction she indicated, looked back at her, and repeated, “Under the concrete?”
    “Yeah ”
    “Dirt, lady.”
    She smiled and eased around the barricade. “Thanks. You’ve been a great help. I’ll show myself out.”
     
    The chain link fence protested slightly and sagged forward under Vicki’s weight as she peered down into the construction site. It was, at the moment, little more than a huge hole in the ground filled with smaller holes, filled with muddy water. All the machinery appeared to have been removed and work stopped. Whether because of the murder or the weather, Vicki had no way of knowing.
    “Well,” she shoved her hands down into the pockets of her coat, “there’s definitely dirt.” If there was any blood, it was beyond finding.
     
    “No problem, Vicki.” Rajeet Mohadevan tucked the three sandwich bags into the pocket of her lab coat. “I can run them through before I head home tonight with no one the wiser. Are you going to be around the building?”
    “No.” Vicki saw the flicker of sympathy across the researcher’s face but decided to ignore it. Rajeet was doing her a favor, after all. “If I’m not at home, you can leave a message on the machine.”
    “Same number?”
    “Same number.”
    Rajeet grinned. “Same message?”
    Vicki found herself grinning back. The last time the police lab had called her at home had been in the worst of the fights between her and Celluci. “Different message.”
    “Pity.” Rajeet gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment as Vicki headed for the door. “I’ve forgotten a few of the places you told him to stuff his occurrence book.” She sketched a salute—a reminder of the old days, when Vicki had been an intense young woman in a uniform—and returned to the report she’d been filling out before the interruption.
    Walking down the hall, the familiar white tiles of the corridor wrapping around her like an old friend, Vicki considered heading through the tunnel to headquarters and checking to see if Celluci were at his desk. She could tell him about the cracks, find out if he’d been withholding any more information from her, and . . . no. Given his mood the last time they’d talked and given that he hadn’t called over the weekend, if she showed up now she’d just interfere with his work and that was something neither of them ever did. The work being what it was, the work came first and the cracks were added questions, not answers.
    She was out of the building entirely when she realized that the thought of seeing another cop sitting at what had been her desk had not influenced her decision one way or another. Feeling vaguely like she’d betrayed her past, she hunched her shoulders against the late afternoon chill and started for home.
     
    For years Vicki had been promising to buy herself a really good encyclopedia set. For years she’d been