Instead of flipping open the whole folder, Bellisario slid a crime scene photo across the table.

Ruby’s eyes roved over it.

Crime scene photos should have unsettled her more than they did. She automatically began analyzing it, picking out the details gathered in the photos. The photo was of a woman, early twenties most likely, probably out on a weekend. She counted out the entry wounds, the individual penetrating injuries of a knife puncture.

Thirteen.

Ruby reeled with déjà vu, understanding why Bellisario had gone so far as to corner her at Asher’s grave to bring this up. They were like Ruby’s personal version of a gruesome constellation, a pattern that had its own mythology.

“Lucky Thirteen,” she said, “like Vallejo’s first victim.”

She recognized the pattern instantly. Ruby had poured obsessively over every detail of Vallejo’s patterns and methods. His case took over her entire life for a while.

“That’s not all.”

Bellisario slid a second photo to her, the location different, the victim dressed in a skirt and cropped top instead of a dress. If the photos had been taken from the medical examiner’s table instead of the crime scene, Ruby might have had a difficult time telling them apart.

“She was found two days earlier,” Bellisario said.

She attempted to read Bellisario himself like he was a file, watching for the details in his reaction. He might have been doing exactly the same thing.

“Vallejo’s fan club?” Ruby probed, watching the deputy director closely.

“Two victims in two days,” Bellisario emphasized.

“That’s too fast a turn around for Vallejo,” Ruby said pointedly, “and he only killed one woman like this, if he is the inspiration.”

If this was a test, she didn’t want to assume immediately and prove that her mind would always jump to Vallejo. Ruby also didn’t want to say that she would need another victim in order to be sure, and that victim would have to mimic Vallejo’s second crime, not just a repeat pattern of the first.

Bellisario took back the photos, tucking them back into the folder, but leaving that Confidential stamp right where Ruby could see it.

“You just wanted to show me pictures?” Ruby asked, incredulous.

“No, I want you out in the field,” Bellisario said, “if you’d rather take a vacation...”

Ruby set her jaw, working over the words before she spoke one way or another. She glanced back at the closed file. How nice of Bellisario to dangle the bait in front of her before outlining the trap.

“Does everyone want me back?” Ruby pressed.

Bellisario shrugged.

“I’m less concerned about people’s feelings and more concerned about young women being killed by a potential copycat.”

Ruby stilled.

“So, you really are entertaining that theory,” she said.