Page 30 of Shrapnel

Elijah and Noah shared a look.

“And,” Jamie picked up the limp arm and pointed to the clean skin around the inner elbow. “I’ve never met a single IV drug user that didn’t have track marks and scars. Now, I didn’t graduate from any fancy school, but I’m pretty sure anyone making drugs has actually tried them at some point. There’s no such thing as casual heroin use. Which means Dr. Angry Face’s theory that our guy immolated his own throat flies out the window.”

Jamie dropped the arm. It thudded against the metal drawer with a gross thump. “Check our dude's toxicology. Bet you won’t even find over-the-counter allergy meds.”

Elijah ducked over towards Dr. Fergus’ desk, rifling through her records until he came to Andrews.

“Why not?” Noah asked suspiciously. “Not that I don’t believe this whole know-it-all thing you’ve got going on, but why would you know more than the ME?”

Jamie extended his right hand out to Noah. Under the harsh specialty lighting, faint scars could be seen crisscrossing his fingers and wrists. The same as Andrews.

“Play with fire and you’re going to get burned.”

Elijah didn’t know exactly when Jamie got those scars, but he knew it was sometime around his sixteenth birthday. He had shown up with bandages around his hands and a guileless smile whenever Elijah asked about it. At the time he had assumed it was just a byproduct of Jamie’s fascination with all things that went boom.

But now he wasn’t so sure.

“He’s right,” Elijah said after he read the toxicology report. “Not a trace of drugs in his system.”

Jamie gave a little bow.

Elijah closed the report. “You should have Dr. Fergus re-examine him. Check for any fibers or substances around his mouth. Someone probably had the chemical on a rag and held it over his face.”

Noah looked down at Andrews’ face. There was an evenness to the sores like it had been held against his face rather than blown. He looked up at the two Weavers.

“It’s what I would do,” Elijah offered with a shrug. “Inhalant would be too unstable left in the air. There’s a risk you could be affected. Rag over the face would be easiest.”

Jamie snorted. “Good ol’ chloroform to the face. TV Kidnapper 101.”

Noah rubbed his eyes and his shoulders seemed to sag. “This is…why would someone want to kill my people with some new chemical?”

Elijah wrapped the hand not holding the file around Noah’s shoulder. He dragged him in for a hug, resting his chin on top of his head. “We’ll figure this out.” He could feel Noah’s shuddery breaths against his chest.

“Well,” Jamie drawled. “Much as I have justlovedthird wheeling on this date, I’m out.”

Elijah held out the folder to stop Jamie. “We could use your help.”

Jamie’s eyebrows shot up. His smile faltered and the intensity of his stare burned a hole in Elijah. He seemed to be eyeing the lack of space between he and Noah. His face went blank for a long moment, some might even say distant, before the corner of his mouth curled.

“You need all the help you can get.” He pushed the hand holding the folders out of his way. “But last time I checked my name wasWeaverand this is a Mesa problem.”

“Grant said we could help in our free time.”

The curl disappeared and something dark roiled in Jamie’s eyes. “Free time?What free time? I’ve spent the last month covering for you so Mommy and Daddy here could play house.”

Noah tsked. “It’s not like you have anything else.”

Elijah closed his eyes and tried to keep his cool. Didn’t either of them know when to shut up?

When he opened them again, Jamie was staring at Noah. His face was a mask, but his eyes were wide and dark. Fathomless emotions swirled in his pupils, at once penetrating and inscrutable.

“Jamie…I know this is a big favor. And I know I have no right to ask it.”

He was completely still, his stare unwavering. Noah began to shift under the weight of it.

Suddenly he inhaled, twitching once, his face softened and the lilting half smile graced his features. “Ask me nicely.”

Noah gained his confidence back. “I would rather suck face with Andrews than ask you for help.”