In addition, his hair, unexpectedly longish and disheveled, was almost completely silver. His weathered face and salty scent suggested he spent more time surfing that doing case work. His blazer was frayed at the collar and his tie was only loosely knotted. And even though it was still morning, he’d already accumulated an impressive array of food stains on his rumpled slacks.

“Jack Dolan,” he said, extending his hand as she approached but not offering any greeting beyond that.

“Jessie Hunt,” she said, trying not to wince at his tight grip.

“Ah, yes. The infamous forensic profiler slash serial killer’s daughter slash psycho whisperer in hiding from men who go bump in the night.”

“That’s what it says on my business card,” Jessie replied acidly, not enamored by all the assumptions this guy was making right off the bat.

“Agent Dolan,” Decker interjected, cutting off the icy exchange, “as the Studio City stabbing has several potential characteristics of both Xander Thurman and Bolton Crutchfield, we’ve decided that Ms. Hunt should join you to assess how likely it is that one of them is responsible.”

Dolan looked at Decker, then at Jessie, and finally, at Murph.

“So,” he asked, apparently confused. “Am I babysitting her now? Or are we tag-teaming it?”

Jessie opened her mouth, uncertain what she would say other than that it would include expletives. But before she could get a word out, Decker jumped in.

“Consider her your partner for the duration of the case. I assume you’d have your partner’s back, Agent Dolan? This is no different.”

Dolan held his tongue. Out of the corner of her eye, Jessie saw Murph fight off a grin. She turned to Decker.

“Can I speak to you privately for a moment?” she asked.

He nodded and they started to step out into the hall.

“Hold on,” Murph said. “The agent and I will step outside. You two talk in here; the fewer people who see you, the better.”

After they left, Jessie turned, blazing-eyed, to Decker.

“Is this some kind of punishment? Is that why you’re putting me with this guy? Can’t you just pull Hernandez off the case he’s working and have me team up with him?”

“Detective Hernandez is unavailable,” he relied tersely. “We don’t just ‘pull’ detectives off triple homicides to accommodate the whims of other staffers. You shouldn’t expect to hear from him any time soon. If you do, it means he’s not doing his job. Besides, Dolan is more than qualified for this case. And he’s who the Bureau made available. So find a way to work with him. Otherwise you can go back to the safe house. It’s your call, Hunt.”

*

The drive to Studio City was especially uncomfortable.

Dolan clearly wasn’t happy that he had to be transported in the back seat of a sedan driven a US marshal. Murph and Toomey weren’t enthused about chauffeuring around two surly investigators. And Jessie was annoyed by pretty much everything.

Despite what Decker had said, she felt like she had three babysitters in the car, with two more in a vehicle behind them. Her “partner” apparently considered her involvement in the case tokenism. And the marshals obviously resented being highly trained valets. By the time they got to the crime scene, everyone was on edge.