Jethro shoved his laptop into his pack. “I’m with you. We need to talk this out like we did last time. If it is Lassiter, he’s had at least five years to plan this. He couldn’t go that long without killing.”

“No.” Angus turned at the door. “So, either he was killing and we haven’t found victims, or there was a reason he couldn’t kill during that time frame.” He smacked his hand against the wall. “Or the bastard is dead and this is somebody new.” He straightened. “If it is somebody new, how does he know so much? We need to go back through old files.” He scouted the team. “All right. Mal, Dana, Pippa, and Wolfe, you proceed as if this is a new killer. Explore all avenues. Nari, Jethro, and I will proceed as if it was Lassiter because we know that case well.”

The group nodded.

Angus angled toward the speakerphone. “Raider and Brigid? Figure out who the hell shot at me yesterday. I don’t see a connection to the serial killer, so it might be related to one of our closed cases.”

Nari nodded. “That’s a good plan.” She reached for her raincoat, which was hanging by the door. Her knees wobbled just enough that she had to take her time shrugging into it. Their team leader had intrigued her from the beginning, and Angus had never been more in control than today.

Angus paused. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“With you.” She patted Roscoe’s head and swept by Angus into the stormy day. “We’re on the same team, remember?”

* * *

Rain beat the area beneath the graffiti-riddled bridge, muddying the sopping wet brown leaves. The crime scene tape remained, but the area had been cleared, and Angus looked up at the distance to the top. It was no wonder the woman’s face had been unrecognizable if she’d landed on one of the nearby rocks.

“The area is rather secluded,” Jethro said, scanning through the rain while petting Roscoe’s wet head. “Although that jogging path is frequently used. This guy doesn’t mind taking a chance at being seen, does he?”

“He’s overconfident rather than reckless,” Angus said. His phone buzzed, and upon seeing it was Tate, he answered. “What do you have?”

Tate cleared his throat. “Wasn’t Millie Frost.”

Relief nearly dropped him, followed by a strong punch of guilt. Somebody was dead, and that person was as important as his team member. Angus turned toward Nari, who stared at him with wide, dark eyes. Not Millie, he mouthed.

She sagged.

“Who was it?” Angus asked.