Exiting the vehicle, I head toward the police cruiser sitting at the curb behind an ambulance. An unmemorable cop with a beer and donut belly that I don’t know, and don’t wish to know, is leaning on the driver’s door.

I glance at his badge and flash mine. “Special Agent Lilah Love, Officer Kinsley.”

He doesn’t so much as straighten. He’s lazy. He’s fat. And yes, that’s judgmental but he is not a civilian. He has a duty to be his best to save lives. Thirty seconds can save or end a life. I learned that the hard way. I wasn’t ready the night I was attacked. I wasn’t ready to save me or someone else.

“What the hell is the FBI doing here?” the officer asks.

“While you’re holding up a car, I’m securing a murder scene,” I say. “Call for backup.”

He straightens and remarkably, since he takes his duty to hold up the car so seriously, the car doesn’t fall over. His lips press together. “It’s an overdose.”

“Considering her ex-sister-in-law was murdered two nights ago, it’s not that simple.” I don’t offer him a chance to reply. “Is she dead?”

“Yeah. I got word she’s DOA.”

“Call Chief Houston and tell him I’m on the scene, and for now, taking control.” I don’t wait for confirmation. I might not like my father’s name dropping, but I’m not above it on occasion, especially when I’m not claiming jurisdiction, thank you, Andrew. The chief is the holy grail of holy grails. I have Officer Kinsley’s attention.

I step around him and his car and head toward the sidewalk.

A short, stocky blond EMS tech rushes through the patio framing Naomi’s house and toward the gate. I meet him there, flashing my badge. “Officer Kinsley said it was a drug overdose.”

“That was no drug overdose.” He scrubs his jaw. “I’ve never seen anything like it. She’s bleeding from her throat.”

I don’t react. None of this is news to me. “Who called it in?”

“Her landlord,” he says. “I don’t know anything more.”

Sirens screech and Officer Kinsley appears by my side. “We have a second team on the scene now and more officers in progress. I told the chief what’s going on and called in CSI and the ME’s office.”

“I need an officer at the gate and the door,” I say. “And you can set a short perimeter. I know what to expect, but I need you grabbing camera footage and going door-to-door for witnesses now.”

“Got it,” Officer Kinsley states. “On it.”

“And where is the landlord?”

“She lives a few doors down.”

“Make sure she doesn’t leave,” I say. “I need to talk to her.”

“Got it. On it.”