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legs bicycled in the air, his arms pinwheeling, but he wasn’t able to straighten before he hit the ground, his skull smashing against the pavement.
    I holstered my weapon and flung myself at the fence, my fingers clinging to the links as I scrambled upward.
    Another force hit the fence and Blaise was climbing up and over, faster than I could have hoped to. At the top, he slung his leg over and dropped lithely to the ground beside Marcus, crouching to feel for a pulse.
    I eased over the sharp, twisted points at the top and worked my way down the other side. When I was within five feet of the pavement, I jumped free, landing hard. “Is he…?”
    “Alive, yes, but I’m not sure for how long. He hit the pavement pretty hard. There might be bleeding on the brain.”
    I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket and dialed 9-1-1, reporting the injury and the location.
    Less than an hour later, the police had processed the scene, and emergency medical technicians had loaded Marcus into an ambulance and taken him to a nearby hospital.
    Blaise and I were no closer to solving the case than when we’d started. Nothing in Marcus’s backpack or on his person gave us any more clues in the case.
    “Come on, let’s get some coffee and we can plan our next move.” Blaise led the way out of the alley.
    My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since early that morning, not that I could eat after seeing Marcus lying in a pool of blood, but coffee…I could do.
    My phone vibrated in my back jeans pocket. I fished it out and punched the talk button, not recognizing the phone number displayed. “Danske speaking.”
    “It’s Detective Thomas. We’ve had another zombie attack.”

Chapter Four
    W e arrived at the midtown apartment of Ivana Felding, a beautiful young woman who’d recently been widowed, though not by our latest zombie attack. Her husband had died a month prior of a heart attack brought on by picking his parents unwisely—genetics.
    Mrs. Felding had been attacked on the street as she’d climbed out of her limousine to enter her apartment building.
    “I’d just returned from visiting a friend.” Her hands shook as she pulled thin black gloves from her fingertips. “He came out of nowhere and tackled me.” Ivana drew in a deep, shuddering breath, trails of mascara running the length of her face, blending with the too-red lipstick, giving her a downright scary, horror-movie appearance. Then her shoulders hunched and she sobbed. She threw herself against me, pressing her wet face against my leather jacket. I patted her back awkwardly, then tried to peel her off my chest. I was almost more frightened of her than of the zombie who’d attacked me. Weepy, make-up-stained women gave me a rash.
    I guided her around a throw pillow that had been tossed carelessly to the floor and pushed her none too gently into a lounge chair. Her perfume overpowered me, making my nose itch. I stepped back several feet to put distance between us, but her perfume followed, clinging to me, making my eyes water. I blinked. “Did you recognize the man?”
    “Of course not. He was gray and ghoulish and…and…he smelled!” She pressed a lace handkerchief to her eyes and dabbed at the tears, managing only to smear the remainder of her eye makeup even more, staining the lace. “Damn Gordon for leaving me in this position. Damn him!” Clutching the crumpled lace, she pounded her delicate fist on her slim knee.
    “What do you mean?” I scrubbed the back of my hand across my eyes.
    “If he hadn’t died, none of this would be happening! I wouldn’t be exposed, alone and broke.” She buried her face in her palms and wept.
    “Broke?” I queried. “From what I understand, Felding was worth millions.”
    “The bastard left everything to his kids from his first marriage.” Ivana practically spat the words. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
    I jotted down the information while Blaise skulked around the woman’s