“Except the one you’re not telling me about,” countered Ferguson. “What’s in it for me?”

“Besides getting a serial killer off the streets of New York?”

“That’s your job, Commander. Not mine.”

“There might come a day when I will need to remind you that you said that.”

Grant was well aware of the high-wire act he was walking. Even though he and Frankel suspected the killer had already dispatched a sixth victim, they still had no idea who it was. If Ferguson figured that out before them, it benefited everyone.

“In the meantime, go do what we can’t,” continued Grant. “Come back with a name or two. If it leads to something, I’ll make sure you get full credit and the exclusive you’re looking for. You’ll have certainly earned it.”

Ferguson leaned back and considered Grant’s offer as Phyllis placed their food in front of them. She refilled their cups, told them to let her know if they needed anything else, and moved off.

“You know I’m a man of my word, Monte. I let you run with that story—and believe me I still haven’t stopped hearing how I shouldn’t have done it.”

“I’ve never accused you of not telling the truth. Bending it, perhaps.” Ferguson twisted a fork full of scrambled eggs in the air for emphasis.

Grant just waited. Ferguson finally took a bite, then lowered the fork.

“Okay, let’s give your way a try.”

“I appreciate it.”

And he truly did. He believed he’d gotten the reporter to take a sidestep that might actually pay him and Frankel dividends as well.

“I do have one more question, though,” Ferguson said.

“Just one?”

“Why is he killing people according to the Ten Commandments?”

Grant had been asking himself the very same question since he had sat in his brother’s study a week ago. And for the life of him, Grant had to admit that he didn’t have a bloody clue.

Neither did Rachel or Frankel when they sat and talked in the basement of the precinct.

Grant had arrived to find Rachel knee-deep in paperwork in an office Frankel had set up for her. Not only did it afford her a modicum of privacy, it allowed Grant and Frankel the opportunity to drop down and see Rachel at any time while keeping her out of Lieutenant Harris’s direct sight. Frankel had informed his superior what they were having her work on and, though Harris wasn’t exactly jumping up and down about it, the man was in such desperate straits he seemed willing to grasp at any available straw.

Rachel had gotten in touch with Hawley bright and early and, as promised, his trusty sergeant had sent along his first pass at Grant’s old cases. She handed her father and Frankel each a printout that exceeded fifty pages.