Heat pricked along Angus’s neck, but he forced himself to stay in the moment. “I was at the office when I got the call about the first victim,” he said. “I called in West and Wolfe and we headed to the scene.”

“Who else was at the office at that time?” Fields asked, not taking notes.

“Roscoe, my dog.” Angus forced his temper elsewhere. These questions made sense, even if he didn’t like them. “You can interview him if you’d like, but he’s a tough one to crack.”

“Sarcasm. Nice.” Rutherford took out the picture of the redhead draped over the log in the forest, a gaping hole in her chest. This time the cuts were smoother, although the dump area was not Lassiter’s style. “Where were you when Sasha McDouglass was dumped in the forest?”

“I was at the office when the call came in. Most of the team had been there but had left.” He looked more closely at the young woman. So that was her name. “Who was she?”

“You tell us,” Rutherford said, twirling the photo around with one finger.

Angus lifted his head. “What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t look familiar?” Fields asked.

Angus studied the photo. “She looks a little like Brigid Banaghan, a former teammate of mine, but that’s it.”

“All right.” Rutherford tapped a finger on the photograph. “You said that most of the team had gone from the office when you received the call about McDouglass. Who was left there with you?”

“Nari.” In fact, it was the first time Angus had kissed her. A pit opened up in his gut. They couldn’t be going where he thought they were, could they?

Rutherford drew out a picture of the victim found in the laundry room of Angus’s former apartment building. “What about this innocent victim? Lizzie Nelson? Where were you when she was dumped, right where you lived?”

Angus looked at the woman, his chest aching. She was so young. So defenseless against a psychopath. “I was sleeping when the call came.”

Fields reached into his pocket. “In the apartment complex?”

“No. In my cabin,” Force said.

“Alone?” Rutherford asked.

Angus nodded, unable to look away from the gaping hole in the woman’s chest. Completely smooth lines this time—much closer to Lassiter’s work. “Except for Roscoe.”

Fields pulled out another cough drop and slowly unwrapped it. “You still have your cabin in Kentucky?”

“Yes.” The burger he’d eaten for lunch rolled around in Angus’s stomach.

“Huh. If you still have that cabin, why did you need this one?” Rutherford cocked his head.