“Mount Holyoke. An all-women’s college in Massachusetts.”

“All-women’s, no kidding? Didn’t know they still have those.”

“I majored in clinical psychology. Sophomore year, I took a course in criminal psychology and kind of got hooked.”

“Mind of the criminal, right? I got some of that in the courses I took.”

“Senior year, we had to do a thesis on a real case. I wrote mine on the Highway 60 murders. The case is sort of famous. Serial killer on this highway that runs from Virginia to Arizona. Nine girls, all of them—” Eden looked out of the car. Why was she talking so much? She hated talking about the case. It never came out right—like something anyone should be interested in.

Frames waited to see if she would say anything else. “Rivvie says you were in the FBI?”

“Yeah. I did that special agent course at Quantico. Then I got hired as an analyst with this thing called the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We worked with local law enforcement to analyze evidence.” Did it sound like she was bragging? Would Frames think she was bragging?

“Like profiling?”

“Sometimes. I worked on a bunch of things.”

“And you left that to come here?”

“Yeah. It was—I don’t know, I guess I wanted to try something else, in the field.” Her voice dropped off. She wondered if Frames was buying this answer. “How about you?”

“Me? I’m a jarhead, Marine. But I always wanted to be a cop. When I got out of the service, I took my degree at the junior college. Did four years on patrol.”

Frames would be better at this job than her. Better at sitting in this dark car, knowing what to say. He’d pass the test. “Did you like it?”

“It was okay. It’s not what you think. Mostly you have to know how to talk to people, defuse a situation. I had the skill set. Work under command, familiar with firearms.”

“That’s what I mean.” Eden tried to regain her voice. “Lieutenant Mahler put together the team, recognizing our different backgrounds.”

Frames checked the time on his cell. He leaned back and yawned. “You think he’s losing it? Mahler, I mean.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. Could she trust Frames? “Losing it?”

“Going after Partridge, instead of focusing on this latest murder?”

“I think he’s trying to look at every possible thing to see if they might be related.”

“What I heard is, the last time, two years ago, he choked. Waited on evidence, and it led to the second girl’s death.”

Eden found herself wanting to defend Mahler. “We don’t know that. It’s not really—”

Suddenly something crashed onto the Crown Victoria’s hood with a force that rocked the car.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Frames yelled.

Eden threw herself backward into the seat, dropping the cup of tea.