Why didn’t that surprise her? “Whose case is it?”

“Well, technically, Kathryn, it’s not ours.”

“Oh, come on. We can play this fiction only so far. Foster’s here on the Guzman Connection thing. He has nothing to do with my case.”

“O’Neil’s case. MCSO’s case. I—”

“Charles! Never mind. I’ll go talk to him.”

“Do you think that’s a good—?”

But she was already walking down the hall. And into the Guzman Connection task force room. Overby appeared a moment later.

“Hey,” Jimmy Gomez said.

“Steve.” Both of the men with that name turned but Dance’s eyes were squarely on Foster.

“It was a misunderstanding,” the bulky man said and looked back to his computer. Not even trying to deny it.

“We agreed we weren’t going to release the description. We weren’t even going to say it was a murder investigation.”

He responded with a demurring tone, “I should’ve been more specific when I was talking to my people in Sacramento. Should’ve told them not to speak to the press.”

“Who was it?” Dance asked in a brittle voice.

“Oh, hard to say. I don’t know what happened. It’s a mystery. I’m sorry.”

Though he was apparently no more perplexed by it than he was contrite.

“What’s this all about?” asked stolid Carol Allerton of the DEA.

Dance reminded her of the debate about releasing the description of their perp. As she spoke she kept her eyes on Foster.

“It made the news?” Carol Allerton asked. “Ouch.”

“It made the news,” Overby said, with a wrinkly mouth.

To Foster, Dance said, “Why would you even discuss it? With anybody in Sacramento? It’s a West-Central Division investigation. Our investigation.”

He wasn’t used to being cross-examined.

“You mean a Monterey Sheriff’s Office investigation.”

“I mean not Sacramento’s.” Her lips grew taut.

“Well, sorry about that. I told somebody; they talked to the press. I should’ve told ’em to keep the lid on. It was a fuckup. But, bright side: I’ll bet somebody’s already spotted some could-be’s. And’ll call it in. Anytime now. You may have your boy before sundown, Kathryn.”

“This morning Michael and I had every mobile unit on the Peninsula start sweeps of venues that might make good locations for other attacks. All day long. Shopping malls, churches, movie theaters. I don’t know what they’re going to be looking for now. If our perp hears the same news show I did, there’s not going to be any brown-haired man in a green jacket to spot.”

Foster wouldn’t back down. “That presupposes that your unsub’s going to try this again. Is there any evidence to that effect?”

“Not specifically. But my assessment is it’s a strong possibility.” And she certainly wasn’t going to take the chance that there’d be no other attack.

Foster didn’t need to reiterate his opinion of Dance’s ability to make assessment.

He said, “It’s probably moot. He’s a thousand miles away by now.”

Chapter 20

Antioch March had changed majors four times in three years at two schools.