If the news outlets were relying upon Springer’s website and bio to fill airtime, her people had done a good job of keeping a lid on the details. Staring at the TV, she watched Freddie come out of the house. The second he stepped under the crime scene tape, he was mobbed by reporters. He ignored them all and kept his head down as he headed for his car. They gave chase but didn’t catch him.

“That’s the way,” Sam said softly. “Don’t give them anything until we’re ready to.”

“What’s going on?” a voice behind her asked.

Sam turned to face Harry. “Homicide on MacArthur Boulevard. Six teenagers.”

“Oh, Christ. How?”

“Stabbed while drunk, high and in the midst of having sex.”

His eyes widened with comprehension. “You don’t think...”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything. But I’m going to find out.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“What’s being done with the evidence collected from Brooke?”

“It’s awaiting pickup.”

“I could take it. I’m heading to HQ now.”

“I don’t recommend that, Sam. If there’re any chain-of-custody issues, it could be a problem for you.”

“Yes, you’re right, and I know better. I’m not going to lie to you. I’m a little freaked out by where this investigation might lead.”

“With good reason.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to add to your worries.”

Sam blew out a deep breath. “You didn’t. I’m all over the place right now.”

He squeezed her shoulder affectionately. “It was tough in there. I could barely stand to watch that, so I can only imagine how it was for you. Go easy on yourself. Contrary to press reports, you’re not superwoman.”

“Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my image.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks for coming tonight. Both times.”

“No problem. Is that your ride?”

Sam looked out the glass doors to see Freddie’s rattletrap Mustang sitting outside. “Yep.”

“Good luck with the case.”

“Thanks. I’m going to need all the luck I can get. I’ll see you.” Sam went out through the double doors into the chilly pre-dawn, zipping her coat as she made her way to Freddie’s car.

Freddie leaned over to open the door for her. It made a creaking noise as it opened.

“Is this tin can roadworthy?”

“Fit as a fiddle.” He glanced over at her as he put the car into drive. “How is she?”

“Not so good. She was high on Molly of all things, sexually assaulted or abused or roughed up or something that required stitches.”

Freddie winced. “Holy crap. Is she awake? Could she tell you anything?”