“Azure and Tiffany didn’t get along,” Zeke said. His eyes were still red. Otherwise he seemed composed. “Back when they were both on the cheerleading squad. Azure said Tiffany was a snotty, spoiled brat.”

“Azure was how old?” Adam inquired.

“Nineteen,” Zeke said.

Zeke was probably in his mid-to-late-twenties. Not that that meant much. Zeke seemed a bit young for his age and Azure, at least from what Adam could remember, had struck him as seasoned.

“Okay.” Frankie shuffled the papers in front of her. “Well.” She glanced at Zeke. “Zeke, maybe you ought to take the afternoon off.”

“The hell!” Zeke returned hotly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“All right then. Have it your way.” Frankie cleared her throat. “Both Azure and Cynthia Joseph had their throats cut. Cynthia was knocked out first. Azure went down fighting. The weapon used on Cynthia was dull and rusted. The weapon used on Azure was razor sharp, and that’s about all we can tell.”

Rob suggested, “Cynthia’s death was a crime of opportunity. Someone went hunting for Azure.”

Frankie nodded. “That’s how it looks to me too.” She glanced at Adam.

Adam agreed. “That doesn’t rule out the same offender though.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“Or,” Rob said, “somebody could be trying to make it look like the same offender.”

“Yes.” Adam studied the crime scene photos now tacked and taped across the wall of Frankie’s office. The artistically arranged crime scene wall was Aggie’s contribution. There were several disturbing shots of the girl with the mermaid hair floating in the lake. Meanwhile, in the background, he could hear Aggie at the front desk doing her best to keep up with the flood of phone calls coming in.

“Was Azure sexually assaulted?” Adam asked.

“We don’t have that information yet.”

“She was nude. So.” He really wished Zeke would go home. This was tough enough on them without Zeke sitting there struggling to control his face and breathing. There just wasn’t that kind of room for sensitivity in a homicide investigation.

Rob said, “According to you there was an attempt to stage Cynthia’s body. But there wasn’t any attempt to stage Azure’s crime scene. She was left floating in the water.”

“If there was an attempt to stage the body,” Adam said, “I may have interrupted it.”

“You? How?”

“I heard what sounded like a scream around three thirty this morning. I went down to the lake, had a look around. I didn’t see anything. It was still dark.” He didn’t want to make excuses. He was angry and sick thinking about it.

There was silence, and then Rob said, “For all you knew it could have been a screech owl.”

Adam gave him a speaking look. Rob had kind instincts. Adam knew he had not heard a screech owl. He had heard a scream. He had convinced himself he’d dreamed it.

“What were you up to at three thirty in the morning?” Zeke demanded.

“I wasn’t up. Whatever sound I heard woke me.”

“And you didn’t think you should call anyone? That you should have fully investigated?”

“I wasn’t sure what I’d heard. I spent forty minutes looking around. There were no sounds, no movement. I thought I might have dreamed it.”

Zeke sneered, “You have a lot of bad dreams?”

“I do. Yes.”

That left even Zeke without a comeback.

“Agent Darling wasn’t the only one bunking down by the lake,” Rob said. “None of us would have handled it any different, Zeke. And it wouldn’t have made any difference to Azure. If she’d still been fighting, Adam would have seen or heard something.”

“She wouldn’t still be fighting after that wound,” Adam said.

Zeke’s eyes filled with tears again—a good part of that was rage, in Adam’s opinion. Which didn’t make his feelings any less powerful or real.

Frankie said, “I guess we need to try to understand what links these victims together. Because there has to be something.”

“I’ll tell you what links them,” Zeke said. “They’re the victims of a serial killer.”

Frankie scowled at him in warning. “What we need to do is find Tiffany.”

Zeke stared at her. “You think Tiffany murdered her mom and then went after Azure?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“I think you’re right,” Adam interjected. “I think finding Tiffany has to remain a priority. The second killing does change things significantly. We still need to understand what ties the murders of Cynthia Joseph and Azure Capano together. These are two women of different ages, backgrounds, professions, appearance.”

“Victimology,” Zeke said knowledgably.

“Well, okay. Yes.”

Adam’s acknowledgement seemed to anger Zeke all over again. “You’re no profiler.”

“No, I’m not. Anyway, that’s television. There’s no such position at the FBI. But I do know—”

Zeke spoke over him. “Why is he even here? Why are we listening to him? I Googled this asshole. You know what his last big case was? A kidnapping. And the victim died because he fucked up. Royally.”

It blindsided him—though really it shouldn’t have. Not these days when anyone with a combination of curiosity, persistence, and rudimentary surfing skills could find out just about anything about anyone.

The bigger surprise was Rob, who was suddenly on his feet, hands braced on the table as he leaned into Zeke’s face. “We’re listening to him because he’s the only one here who has a clue of what to do in this situation. Why are you so afraid of hearing what he has to say?”

“Rob…”

If Rob heard him, he gave no sign. All his focus was on Zeke who knocked his chair over as he jumped up.

Zeke roared back, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. If you can’t handle this, you need to go home.”

“I can handle it fine. What I can’t handle is all of you acting like I can’t handle it!”

“Sit down, both of you!” Frankie shouted. She pounded the table. “I’m still running this investigation, and I’m asking Agent Darling for his advice. That’s why he’s here.”

Still blazingly angry Rob threw Adam a quick look, and Adam couldn’t help offering a quick, uncertain smile. He couldn’t remember anyone ever leaping to his defense like that.

Not that he’d ever needed anyone leaping to his defense until the Conway case.

Rob abruptly seemed to recall himself. He looked faintly uncomfortable before throwing Zeke one final hostile look.

Zeke glared back at him.

“Will you two idiots sit down?” Frankie requested. Actually it wasn’t a request.

Zeke picked up his chair. Rob sat down.

“Look,” Adam said to Zeke. He tried to keep his tone neutral. “I’m not part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, but every FBI special agent is cross-trained to deal with a multitude of situations, including violent crimes. Advise and assist law enforcement is a regular part of what we do.” He looked at Frankie. “If you want to kick this up to the Portland Field Office, I understand. In the meantime, you have to proceed with the investigation. You know as well as I do how crucial the first forty-eight hours are.”

“Go on then,” Zeke said. “Tell us about the victims.”

Adam shook his head. “That’s not how it works. You knew the victims. The three of you knew these women. You need to begin collating that information so that we can analyze what we’ve got. As you would in any homicide case.”

Rob said, “We’ve never handled a homicide case.”

“That we know of,” Frankie said darkly.

Rob and Zeke both turned to stare at her.

Adam said, “Since you brought it up, I don’t believe you sent for me because you thought this office couldn’t handle Cynthia Joseph’s murder. You could have turned to Klamath Falls or Medford for any support you require. You wanted me to fly up here because you knew I was working the Ripper case. I think consciously or unconsciously, you do suspect you have a serial killer on your hands.”