"Is one of those for me?"
I stopped in the middle of the mortuary's examination room and put my coffee cups on an empty table. "Both are. They're poisoned."
Cassia, in scrubs and a ponytail again, raised an eyebrow. "Thanks."
I smiled faintly. "They're not for you to drink, idiot. I want you to tell me whether they contain cyanide."
"And here I was, thinking my sister had bought me a coffee for the first time in my career." She frowned, and her jovial tone faded. "Are you all right? You haven't drunk any, have you?"
"I'm fine. So, can you test them?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'll have to send a sample to the lab for a proper confirmation, but I can take an unofficial look now. Why do you think they've been poisoned?" She picked one up and looked at it curiously.
"I bumped into Sebastian at Coffee Glitch. He stopped me from drinking mine because he thought he'd seen the barista slip something in it. Both smell like bitter almonds."
"Jesus." She put the cup down and closed her eyes. "And you nearly drank it. Is it The Diamond murderer?"
"I don't know. I called the incident in, so Dixon wants to see me now. And I need to find the barista."
"Of course. Go."
I got as far as the doors before I turned around again. "I'm sorry for what I said yesterday. I didn't mean to push you."
Cassia shrugged. "It's fine. I'm sorry for storming out. If you want the truth, Miles and I are going through a rocky patch. But that's all. We'll pull through."
Her words settled on my shoulders like a weight. A rocky patch?
I thought about pushing it again. In the end, all I did was tug her tablet out of my bag. "Alex fixed this for you, by the way."
"I was wondering when you were going to give that back. Thank him for me."
"Will do. See you later."
***
I called my mother on my way to the police station and checked that Mitzy was all right. She confirmed that she was, but the blood test results hadn't come through yet. Then she made me promise again that I would have dinner with the family soon. I pretended that I hadn't just brushed shoulders with death and hung up.
When I entered the station, I went straight to Dixon's office. Alex was already in there, standing behind the chief superintendent's desk. Dixon was frowning at the screen of a tablet and saying something I couldn't hear through the glass walls.
I knocked on the door and opened it. Both men looked up with grey faces, and I held out my hands. "I'm fine, I'm fine."
Alex came towards me, his jaw tight. "You didn't drink any?"
"No."
"Where is it now?" Dixon asked.
"I took both cups straight to Cassia, sir. She's going to test them for cyanide, but there's really no question about it. They smelled of bitter almonds."
Not everyone has the ability to detect the smell of cyanide. I hadn't known that I did until I'd taken the lid off my cup.
"That's only half the story," Dixon said. "Someone's left a threat for you. I was just showing Alex."
I went behind his desk. The touchglass divider at the front of the station could be used by the public for all sorts of things, including filing complaints. On Dixon's screen was a complaint addressed to me, its details typed in red.
DIE.
"My knees are shaking," I said. "Someone with half a brain has written a mortal word in a terrifying colour."
Dixon shot me a sour look. "A little less attitude, please. Someone just tried to kill you, for God's sake."
"Yes, and this is a bloody late warning!"
"It's time-stamped about twenty minutes before you called the incident in," Alex said.
"I've downloaded the CCTV footage from the front of the station," Dixon added. "Watch it and see if you recognise anyone."
The lobby with its touchglass divider filled the tablet screen. It was empty. Dixon hit the fast-forward button until someone started to walk into the frame, then played it at normal speed.
"This is close to the time when the complaint was made," Alex said.
The new person was hard to see because he had his hood up. But what I could see was the word sewn across the back of his denim jacket. BITCH.
"That's him," I said. "That's the barista."
Alex frowned. "Didn't we see him at Bright Light University?"
"Yes. His name is Evan."
"How does he fit into this? How could he be..." Alex shook his head. "Everyone linked to this inquiry graduated from that university the same year as Kristina and Zed."
"How isn't our question yet," Dixon said. "Right now, we just need who."
On screen, Evan finished typing and turned around. The camera caught a glimmer of his face.
Dixon paused the video and enlarged the picture. He tapped the screen, and the face was scanned. A national profile popped up.
"Evan Archer," Dixon read. "Get out of here and arrest him."
***
Back in our office, I looked up Evan's profile on my tabphone and tracked him. Alex paced while we waited for it to find his location.
I tapped out an impatient rhythm on my desk. "Did you get a good night's sleep?"
"Yes." Alex reached the door, then spun on his heel and stalked back down the room. "I won't be getting one tonight. I nearly lost you."
"But you didn't. Sebastian saved me."
"What if he hadn't been there?"
I would have drunk the coffee.
My tabphone buzzed, saving me from having to reply. I glanced at the screen. "He's retreated to Bright Light University. Let's go."
Alex drew his pistol and shoved his way out of the office. I followed, tabphone in hand. My sergeant was taking such long strides that I had to jog to catch up with him.
"He tried to poison me," I said. "Not shoot me."
"Doesn't mean he won't try a different method when we find him."
"You can't walk down the street carrying that. People will panic!"
"The PRBs have their rifles on display."
"The PRBs have a unique design that lets people know they're police robots. You're just a man in a long coat with a really scary look on his face."
Alex shot me an irritated glance. "My face is scary?"
"Right now, yes. And I know why. But you've got to do this as my sergeant, not my...anything else."
We reached the station door and scanned out. I ducked under it as soon as possible and straightened up on the other side. And froze.
"Alex," I said. "He's here."
Alex ducked under the door and looked at the mouth of the road. In the next second, I'd wrenched my gun out of its holster to join his.
"Police! Don't move!" I yelled.
Evan Archer turned and ran.
We took off after him, turning onto the high street. Evan was already halfway up the road. He'd obviously left his tabphone behind in his dorm room to throw us off, and the deceptive calculation made me even angrier.
When we took the next bend, I nearly fell over a cardboard box someone had chucked outside. My jeans were sticking to me, and I was breathing so hard that my throat ached.
Evan took another turning. Trains whooshed overhead.
"He's going to the train station!" I shouted. "He's trying to escape!"
Alex pushed on. I wasn't sure if I could go faster, but I tried anyway.
The train tracks spiralled high in the air and then looped lower, bringing the trains they carried down to the ground. Several metal carriages flew across them and disappeared behind the sprawling glass building. Evan charged towards it, glancing over his shoulder with wide eyes.
"We'll lose him in there!" Alex said.
"Not on my bloody watch."
Evan entered the train station. The automatic doors closed after him. We reached them a moment too late, and they spent a precious second sensing our presence.
"Come on!" I growled.
They flew open. We charged into the station and skittered to a halt.
Sleek, white pathways as light as carbon weaved around each other on the ground and twisted in the air, circling towards the outside world. A dozen hologram boards floated above them, displaying city names and platform numbers in bright lights.
"Take the right half of the station," I said. "I'll take the left."
I holstered my gun and pushed through the crowd, craning my head and looking all around. I had no idea which pathway to go up first, but I needed to choose quickly and pray that it was the right one.
A flash of black caught my eye. A bob of a drawn-up hood ascending a slope. I sprinted after it.
Evan reached the top and charged straight past the ticket office, bursting onto the platform. A train was speeding towards us, too fast to be stopping. No one else was out there.
He crossed the yellow line and turned his head, looking down the line. I reached out to grab his collar.
Something hit him from behind.
He flew forwards. My fingers closed around thin air.
The train passed in front of us.