Mendez briefed him as they drove across town to the LA County Coroner’s facility on North Mission Road. Vince taped the conversation on a pocket-size recorder. He would make notes later. He had already started gathering impressions of the situation.

Dixon had the shield of authority up. He was too smart to drop his guard just because they had one person in common. This case was his baby. He was running the show and he didn’t want some G-man coming in and upsetting the balance of power.

That was nothing new. Cops were territorial animals. They all pissed on the fences. Some of them more than others. And no doubt, Dixon had checked him out as well. He could have heard a hundred stories of Vince Leone cutting a wide swath everywhere he went, drawing the media like flies to a rump roast.

He had a certain reputation for being loud and flamboyant, always cracking wise with his unapologetic Chicago accent. What Dixon wouldn’t have heard was that he did what he had to do to make his case. If that meant drawing a killer out with a challenge or a taunt or whatever, that was what he did.

They parked in sight of the receiving zone and got out of the car. Vince sucked in the night air, filling and emptying his lungs several times. It was the last fresh breath they would have until the autopsy was over.

“Okay, fellas,” he said to Dixon and Mendez. “Before we go in, I have to tell you about my capacity here. ISU can’t take your case yet. Right now, it would be a stretch to say it meets the criteria enough to warrant assigning an agent while they’re swamped with bigger cases.”

Dixon gave him the eagle-eye. “Then what are you doing here?”

“I think it’s only a matter of time before you have another body. This latest murder demonstrates your UNSUB has a pretty advanced and sophisticated fantasy he’s acting on. That didn’t develop overnight. He’s killed before. He’ll kill again. I’d like to help you nail this creep before you’ve got a big body count, not after.”

“If Investigative Support wouldn’t take the case, and you’re one of the founding fathers of Investigative Support,” Dixon said, “then you’re here . . . ?”

“Under the radar,” he admitted. “I’ll help as much as I can help.”

“Out of the kindness of your heart?” Dixon asked.

“Not exactly,” Vince said. “I’m exploring the possibilities of continuing education of law enforcement personnel in the field as an extension of what we do at the National Academy.”

Sounded good—as long as Dixon didn’t have a line to his higher-ups in the Bureau to check it out.