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“You didn’t check his pockets?” Adam patted the man down, hoping for a wallet and some form of identification. The flesh felt clammy, more rigid through the cloth than he’d expected, and he kept his contact as brief as possible. He didn’t find anything else.

“As I said, I hadn’t processed him yet.”

Argent forced a smile. “I appreciate your help, Shepherd, and I know that you are new to this, but perhaps the school has some books on forensics that you could borrow?”

“In his defense,” Adam said. “The officers on the scene should have processed the evidence.”

Argent glared at him, just a little.

“So, uh, let’s get this phone to Jack.”

“Agreed,” she said.

25

They left the smell of Shepherd’s morgue and the demons behind as they headed for the library. The school often changed, blending medieval architecture with the stylings of modern campuses. The library was no exception. It would have fit well in a monastery, with tall, arched windows and a floor of stone tile. Outside, the spirit realm stood in its usual chaotic glory, but within, everything was steel and sleek, owed in part to Jack’s personal taste, though Adam suspected all the metal also had something to do with the sign hanging over the wide, front desk that read, absolutely no magic in the library.

Jack sat beneath it. He looked up from his computer when they entered. His eyes darted worriedly from Adam to Argent until she placed the phone on the counter.

“We need to know about the man who owned this,” she said. “He died in the market attack.”

“We couldn’t unlock it,” Adam explained. “There’s a passcode.”

Jack turned it over in his hands and smiled.

“A passcode. Cute.”

He set the phone back down and prodded it with a fingertip. A number of wires uncurled and crept into the phone’s power socket.

“Give me a moment.”

The phone lit up when he made connection. Jack’s head danced back and forth as if he was listening to a tune only he could hear.

“Got it,” he said. “Oh. He had a wife and kids.”

Jack held up the phone. The guy’s home screen was a family photo. They looked happy.

“Brandon Williams. There are like a thousand missed calls, messages, and emails.”

“We’ll need to find a way to inform the next of kin,” Argent said.

“He made some purchases in the Night Market,” Adam said. “There should be some emails from whoever is behind it.”

Jack stared at the phone, reading what they couldn’t see.

“Oh. That’s dirty,” he said.

“What is it?” Adam asked.

“They introduced themselves as Lore, but that’s all I’ve got on them. They bounced the email off an anonymous service, and they know how to hide their IP address.” Jack practically growled. “I don’t think I can track them.”

“How about Cole’s emails?”

“Same story. I can almost guarantee they’re from the same sender.”

“How?”

“The syntax and style are identical. I can forward them to you.”