Angus swallowed. “Yeah.” A perfect tattoo of a German shepherd had been placed right beneath the knuckles on the back of her hand.
Wolfe swallowed. “Looks like Roscoe.”
“Could be a coincidence,” West said, his lips turning down.
“Probably is.” Angus stood. Oh, that was his dog; the markings were distinctive. “Fields? I want this case. Lassiter or not. FBI or not.”
West gripped his arm and pulled him to the side. He leaned in to speak quietly. “Even if the FBI and HDD both allow it, are you sure you want this? Serial killers don’t just change their MOs, right? Especially ones like Lassiter.”
Angus nodded. “You’re right.”
“You’re obsessive and you’re just getting your drinking under control. If this isn’t Lassiter, and that tattoo is a coincidence, why take on HDD, the FBI, and the local DC police force right now?” West released him, his gaze again straying to the poor woman on the ground.
Right now they were the best chance for justice the woman had.
Fields slid his phone back into his pocket. “The HDD higher-ups say no way to you taking on this case. Sorry. It’s a no-go.”
Angus turned on his heel and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, striding down the alley. The rain increased in force, a cold, angry prelude to the dark, oncoming winter.
His team members flanked him.
Wolfe stepped over a puddle. “We’re not letting this go, are we?”
“Not a chance in hell,” Angus said. “Call everyone in. We have a new case.” He ducked under the crime scene tape, walking away from death.
This time.
Chapter Two
Nari Zhang zipped her leather jacket as she stepped out of the Porsche, forcing a smile onto her face and leaning down. The crisp fall breeze lifted her hair. At least it had stopped raining after midnight. “Thanks for dinner, Ronald.”
He angled to the side in the driver’s seat, a lock of blond hair falling over his strong forehead. “Why don’t you let me follow you home? Maybe come in for coffee?” His blue eyes were earnest in the dim light from the car.
Nari kept the smile in place, looking around the nearly deserted parking area of the seventies-style office building. Her new VW Bug waited for her beneath the one streetlight, which showed there were no predators close to her vehicle. “That’s all right.” She purposely didn’t look at the large truck parked in the darkness closer to the building. Did Angus Force ever go home any longer?
Ronald reached for her hand. “I had a good time tonight. How about we meet up for another late dinner tomorrow? The senator’s intelligence briefing should be done by ten, and I could pick you up around eleven. Okay? Very late dinner? Maybe dessert?” His voice lowered into a suggestive tone that was probably beyond sexy to most women on Capitol Hill, and his hand was large and warm around hers. In his dark sports jacket and red power tie, he looked as powerful as she knew the chief of staff for the Senate majority leader to be.
“Work is heating up, but I’ll call you.” She pulled her hand free and stepped away to shut the door. Ronald was intelligent and mature, and he’d bored her into glancing at her watch before the appetizers had been served. What was wrong with her?
His jaw tightened and he sped off, leaving her alone in the parking lot. Most women probably didn’t turn him down.
Nari sighed, her gaze going to the darkened doorway of the old office building. Shadows danced across its face and over to the adjacent, desolate park. Thunder rolled in the distance, promising another late fall storm. Her bed called to her; it’d only take twenty minutes to drive home. And if she couldn’t sleep, it was time she rearranged her kitchen, anyway. She needed things to be color coded.
The wind rustled the barren trees and leaves crackled. She shivered.
Yet she steeled her shoulders and strode across the wet, cracked concrete to the front door, which she unlocked with a scratched key. At some point she needed to learn not to beat her head against brick walls, but apparently this wasn’t the night for that. Her boots clip-clopped across the dusty wooden floor of the deserted hallway to the rickety elevator. She said a quick prayer and stepped inside, hoping this wasn’t the night it decided to just break free and crash to the basement.
It hitched and jerked, but finally the door opened to a quiet, dark office. She fumbled for the switch and flipped on the yellow fluorescent lights in the vestibule, illuminating the bullpen with its empty desks.
Male muttering across the bullpen in Case Room One pulled her like a magnet. This was a mistake, but it was time somebody made it. Apparently she was the only one on the Deep Ops team willing to cross Angus Force right now.
Enough was enough.
The smell of whiskey caught her attention as she drew abreast of the doorway. Wonderful. He was drunk again.
She stepped inside to find Angus sitting with his boots on the conference table, staring at a whiteboard of mutilation and death. Papers were scattered across the table in no apparent order, as if he’d flung them across to see where they’d land. A half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s rested on several manila file folders, no cup in sight.
Roscoe snored quietly over in the corner on a new blue bed she’d bought for him the week before.
