Stantz stepped out of the SUV and straightened his coat. He walked directly to his agents, not bothering to glance at the state troopers gathered fifty feet away around their white vehicles. He’d seen the displeasure and confusion on their faces as he pulled up. He felt their glares on his back even now. During his career, he’d dealt with their type often enough to know what they were thinking — fuck these feds for coming onto our turf, for taking over our investigation, for forcing us out.

National Security was a great catchall justification for seizing investigations, but it never set anyone at ease.

Stantz didn’t have time to set anyone at ease.

The agent in charge of the scene, Calder, led Stantz along a well-trodden path through snow and scrub to the taped-off area with the body.

Crouching, Stantz examined the remains. His stomach clenched and churned.

“Wounds are consistent with those inflicted on our agents during the incident,” Calder said. “All cauterized.”

Stantz rose. His hands were already cold, and it felt like his dry skin would split along his knuckles any second, but he didn’t slip them into his pockets or reach for his gloves. The discomfort gave him a good reason to focus on the task at hand. On the mutilated corpse.

“What about the other injuries?”

“Animals. Been out here for a few days, at least.”

This was what Stantz had unleashed upon an unsuspecting world. This savagery, this hatred, this…splendor.

Only the narrow-minded and shortsighted would view the Fox’s escape as a setback. Stantz understood what the director could not — this wasn’t a failure, but an unexpected, unprecedented opportunity. Specimen Ten had finally shown them its capabilities. Now they knew those tiny machines could do so much more than accelerate healing.

Now they knew the alien’s nanotechnology could be used as a weapon.

“You’ve already begun the cleanup?” Stantz asked.

“Yes, sir. The coroner’s report will detail a mundane stabbing.”

“Good. Keep in close contact.”

Stantz walked back toward his vehicle. The cluster of state troopers in their brown coats frowned at him. Offering no response, he climbed into the backseat of the SUV and opened his computer. He touched the button on his ear piece.

“MCC, this is the Huntsman,” he said, pouring half a roll of antacids into his mouth.

Damn the director and his foolish protocols.

“Hawk acknowledges, Huntsman,” Fairborough replied through the comms.

“Mark my location. Find a spot nearby to move the MCC. The Fox is heading east.”

“Copy that.” Fairborough hesitated. “Sir, we may have found something relevant to the hunt.”

Stantz shifted the remaining chunks of chalky antacid to one side of his mouth. “Go.”

“One of the women Branson stopped on the night of the incident was reported missing. Zoey Weston.”

The woman’s file appeared on Stantz’s screen; she was the curvy girl Branson had been hostile with.

“And?”

“Her car was found abandoned on I-70 Tuesday morning, about ten miles west of your current location.”

Stantz ground his teeth together. “We might have another body out here.”

“Maybe, sir. But look at these records.”

The computer screen flashed as a list appeared. It took Stantz a moment to realize he was looking at a bank statement.

“One hundred and twelve dollars in a big-and-tall store in Vegas on Monday.” Stantz’s heart rate increased. “Strange for a girl listed as five-foot-seven on her license. And she rented a room in Green River on Monday night.”

He dumped a few more antacid tablets into his hand and slammed them into his open mouth before pulling up the satellite map.

“Start driving for Green River,” he said to the driver. “Hawk, I need you to get the story out about Weston. We need people to be aware she’s missing. Would be a shame if she doesn’t turn up.”

“Copy that, Huntsman.”

“Get her picture out to all field agents and send the description of our murder victim’s registered vehicle along with it. Matthew Johnson, independent contractor out of Elko, Nevada. We’re shifting our search area into eastern Utah and western Colorado. We’ll find this woman, and then we’ll bag our Fox.”