The sun is setting, but I don’t turn on the lights. Lowe’s desk is given away by Ana’s grinning picture. I tiptoe there, kneel in front of the keyboard, and start messing around.
This is not my bread and butter, but it’s relatively simple and not too time-consuming. It’s clear that the Weres don’t expect intrusions from within, and the machine is mostly unprotected. It only takes me a few minutes to force my way into their database, and a handful more to set up three parallel searches: Serena Paris, the date she disappeared, and The Herald, in case my suspicions are right, and Lowe was part of some story she meant to cover. It’s just a start, but I hope that if she was mentioned on any communication device that’s automatically backed up on—
Something soft rubs against my calf.
“Not now,
