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"Every Fillmore Graves soldier will be out there hunting for Cain," Major told his squad. They were getting ready to go out on special search duty, hunting an escaped zombie serial killer. "All right? I want our unit to be the one to bring him in."

Before any of them could respond, Chase Graves appeared in the room. Somehow he looked smaller than he used to—the cares of New Seattle were taking a real toll on him. "Major. A word?" It wasn't a request.

"Yes, sir." Major followed him around to the other side of the bank of lockers.

In a low voice, Graves said, "Bring me up to speed on our friend, Russ Roche."

"I'm making progress. He took me out with his crew." Not much progress, so Major hoped this wasn't supposed to be an extensive interrogation. "We busted up a few brain stills, roughed up his competition."

"Great. Keep at it." Graves didn't move, and Major wondered what else had brought him down here.

He took the opportunity to ask the question on every Fillmore Graves soldier's mind right now. "Sir, if I may ask, how the hell did Cain escape?"

"A zombie horde attacked a prison transport bus. Cain was on the bus, and somehow he got away."

"Any chance that horde was from the Triple Cross Church?" Major asked.

Graves frowned at him. "'Triple Cross' what?"

"A church for zombies. The preachers work them into a lather. My unit dropped in when we were tracking down that phone video; we almost didn't make it out alive."

For a moment, there was no response. Then Graves punched the locker next to him, hard enough to dent the door. He kept punching until the door had come completely off its hinges. "Why am I just hearing about this now? I can't do my job if I don't know what's going on in this city!" He sank onto the nearest bench.

"I put it all in the report, sir. I left nothing out." It was a weak excuse, and Major knew it. He should have brought the church up to Graves personally—there was no way he had time to read all the reports that hit his desk cover to cover. He'd just been so shook up to see Angus McDonough there that he'd tried to put it all out of his mind.

"I never saw it."

"Maybe it got misplaced?"

"It wasn't misplaced. It was withheld from me. Deliberately." Graves got to his feet, moving closer to Major, his voice dropping. "I'm not sure who I can count on here, Major." He looked up into Major's face, then moved past him, his gait halting, as though he had taken a blow. He finished, "But I'm sure I can count on you."

"Of course."

Graves left, and the rest of the unit turned to look at Major with curiosity, which he chose not to satisfy.

"All right," he told them. "Let's head out."

Captain Seattle cleared his throat. "Yeah, but …"

"What?"

"That was my locker."

Everyone laughed. Much needed, too. Major appreciated that about Captain Seattle—he knew when to be serious and when a well-placed joke helped ease the tension. He was turning into a good soldier.

Before he could respond, his cell phone went off. "Hey, Ravi."

"Major. I forgot my briefcase this morning. Would you mind picking it up, bringing it by the station?"

"Yeah, sure. 'Cause I've got nothing else to do." Major frowned. What was Ravi thinking?

"I'm sorry to be a pain. It's just, it's vital to something I'm working on."

A cure? Could Ravi be close? Major thought through the night's schedule. "Well, patrol will take me right by the house."

"Oh, splendid! You're a savior. Thanks, mate!"

"Yeah, later." He closed the phone and finally was able to move his unit out of the locker room.

In the morgue, Liv was standing in front of a tray full of dismembered arms. Her outfit was some kind of sweatsuit—Major didn't even want to know what brain this was—and there was a girl with her. A little girl, maybe twelve. Major was pretty sure he didn't want to know what that was about, either.

"Hey, Liv."

"Yo, why you rolling up?"

So, rapper brain. Interesting. "Looking for Ravi." He lifted the briefcase. "I'm supposed to bring him this." He looked at the girl. "Hey, there. I'm Major."

"Hello, sir."

Liv laughed. "'Sir'? Bitch, please. This is just Major. Major, this is my neighbor, Isobel."

"And Ravi? He's—" Major looked around and didn't see his roommate.

"Somewhere. Not here." Her tone made it clear that she wished Major was also not here.

Behind him, Major heard Jordan, tripping down the stairs exactly like he had told her not to. "Major, Seattle is getting on my last nerve."

"I told you to wait upstairs."

But then, of course, Captain Seattle was right behind her. He walked straight up to Jordan. "So now you just walk away in the middle of a conversation?" Then he caught sight of the tray of arms. "Ew!"

"They're hands," Jordan snapped. "Man up."

Major snapped at both of them, "Hey, you two are getting on my last nerve."

"They got beef, Major. Let them sort it out," Liv put in. When all three of them turned to stare at her, she looked at Captain Seattle. "What's your situation, son?"

"I thought we had something, but apparently we were just hooking up," he explained, gesturing to Jordan.

"I never said we were exclusive!"

"Your body made a promise."

"Thought my boo was ride or die till I got the 411," Liv rapped. "'Cause he just a blank-faced coward with a narrow mind and a big-ass gun." The look on her face as she glared at Major made it very clear who she meant.

"Liv, I know you're on a brain, but seriously, what's your problem?"

She stared at him like she couldn't believe he was asking. Captain Seattle frowned at him. "What did you do?"

"Wait in the lobby!" Major ordered.

Seattle and Jordan reluctantly left the morgue, and Major stepped up to Liv. "So what am I in trouble for now?"

"You have to ask? You were right there when Chase Graves crushed Mama Leone's skull. You probably had to wash bits of her off of you!"

So that was it. He should have known. Things moved so fast in New Seattle that the execution already seemed so long ago. "Renegade was breaking the laws and fully aware of the consequences." It was the party line, and it wasn't wrong. Whether he believed it or not … well, that was above his pay grade. "Her death, while tragic, probably saves lives."

Liv's eyes widened in outrage. "Hey, Major, I've seen that movie, too. You're quoting the bad guy."

Before Major could respond, Peyton appeared from Ravi's office, standing between them. "Will you two knock it off? You both love each other. You've been through tough stuff before, and this, too, shall pass."

Major and Liv looked at each other. They did, in fact, love each other. That wasn't in question. It never had been. Could they really let being on opposite sides of zombie politics make them enemies? But she wasn't going to back down, and he couldn't afford to, and Major didn't see a way out.

Fortunately, just at that moment, his cell phone rang. "It's Ravi," he said with some relief. Glaring at Liv, he told her, "We should do this more often." Then he left the morgue, and was glad to go.

Ravi had texted that he was in one of the interrogation rooms, so Major headed up there, wishing he was far less familiar with the layout of the police station. He knocked on the door, calling out Ravi's name.

His roommate's face appeared in the crack of the door, and he took the briefcase, but over his shoulder, Major heard the unmistakable sound of a die rolling. "Whoa, whoa, what's going on in there? I heard huzzahs."

"Uh, official police business. Strictly need-to-know."

Major pushed past Ravi into the room and saw exactly what he had expected to see: a D&D campaign in full session. Without him. "Quite a police emergency. So I guess Sirjay decided to sit this one out, huh?"

"What with the lockdown, you know …"

"Open the briefcase, Ravi."

There was silence. Ravi propped the briefcase up on his knee and opened it, revealing one item within: his character figure. "Huzzah?" he offered weakly.

Major frowned at him. "So, you know, I'm out on the streets trying to catch a murderer."

"I catch a murderer every week," Clive muttered into his coffee mug.

"Did you know Peyton is downstairs?" Major asked Ravi, whose eyes widened in panic.

"She is?"

"But you're gonna stay and play, right?" the police sketch artist asked him.

"Mmm," Ravi said indecisively.

"Be your own man, Mosco," Major counseled. "She'll understand you staying up here playing D&D while you know she's downstairs."

"How will she know I'm playing D&D?"

"Oh, she'll get the text I'm sending right now."

Major pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"I hate you."

"Next time you tell me it's important, make it so." Major frowned at the room in general and left, as Ravi hurried out and down the hall toward the morgue.