about to lunge at someone. Her nose, long and curved, was pink from the cold. She turned her gaze to O’Donnell, who almost took a step back. The woman’s eyes were the color of grass, and their intensity was deeply unnerving. It was as if she wasn’t just looking at O’Donnell—she was actually scrutinizing each and every one of her skin pores.
“I’m Detective O’Donnell.” O’Donnell forced herself to meet the woman’s stare. “And you are?”
“Agent Gray.” The man flashed his FBI badge. “And this is Dr. Bentley.”
“This is a Chicago PD crime scene, agents. You can’t come in. Not until we finish processing it.”
“This murder might be relevant to an ongoing case we’re investigating,” Bentley said. “We just need a few minutes to—”
“Who said this is a murder?” O’Donnell asked.
Gray flashed his partner an annoyed look, which she didn’t seem to notice. He sighed. “Lieutenant Martinez tipped us off. He called to tell us a twenty-nine-year-old woman named Catherine Lamb was strangled to death in her home.”
O’Donnell maintained her poker face, doing her best to hide her anger. She’d always thought well of Martinez, who, like her, worked in the Area Central detective bureau. What was he thinking, contacting the FBI about a local murder? And giving them preliminary, unverified information, like the cause of death, was a mistake even rookies didn’t make. “How is this murder related to your case?”
“We’re not at liberty to say,” Gray said quickly, just as Bentley opened her mouth.
O’Donnell gave them a tight-lipped smile. “I have a crime scene to process. Have a nice day, Agents.”
“Wait.” Bentley’s voice sharpened, eyes flashing in anger.
O’Donnell turned away. She’d have a talk with Martinez later and figure out what this was all about.
“Detective O’Donnell,” Agent Gray called after her. “Two minutes of your time, please? We might have some information.”
O’Donnell sighed and walked back. Gray seemed embarrassed, humility creeping in his features.
“Mind if we talk privately?” he asked.
O’Donnell crouched under the yellow tape and stepped a few yards away from the house, out of earshot.
“What is it?” she asked the agents, who’d followed her.
“We’re investigating a serial killer named Rod Glover,” Agent Gray said. “He lived in Chicago for about ten years, using a fake identity.”
“What does he have to do with this murder?”
“We’re not sure if he has anything to do with it. But Rod Glover strangles his victims. And his last known address was right in this neighborhood, in McKinley Park.”
“That sounds like a very arbitrary connection,” O’Donnell pointed out. “Do you show up at every homicide investigation with suspicion of strangulation in the area?”
Bentley snorted with impatience. “Sexual homicides with strangulation in this immediate area aren’t an everyday occurrence—”
“Sexual homicide? Did Martinez tell you it was a sexual homicide?”
“He said the victim’s clothing was torn.”
“Why the hell did he tell you all that? This case has nothing to do with him, and none of this is in any reports. He—” The puzzle pieces suddenly clicked together. “Dr. Bentley? You’re Zoe Bentley, the profiler. You worked with Martinez on the Strangling Undertaker case.”
“Yes.”
Three months before, Chicago had been terrorized by a serial killer who murdered and embalmed young women, leaving their bodies posed all over the city. Lieutenant Martinez had been in charge of the investigation, and he’d asked for the bureau’s help. Dr. Bentley and Agent Gray had been part of the task force that had finally caught the killer.
“You’re not from the FBI’s Chicago field office.”
“No,” Gray answered. “We’re from the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”
“And you just happened to be in Chicago today?” O’Donnell asked, incredulous. The BAU was located in Quantico, Virginia, half a country away.
“Not exactly. We’ve been following Glover’s tracks. We’ve been in Chicago for the past week.”
“And now you want to take over the case? Just because you think it might be related—”
“We’re not taking over anything.” Gray raised his hands in a placating manner. “We just want to assess if it’s possible Glover is related to this case.”
“Fine.” O’Donnell shrugged. “Talk to your guys at the field office. They can get the case reports from us, and you can take a look.”
“It would be much better if I could see the scene for myself,” Bentley blurted.
“Better for who?”
“Well, for everyone. We’re much more experienced in profiling these kinds of attacks. If we see the scene—”
O’Donnell got impatient with the woman’s patronizing manner. “The photos will be in the case file.”
Gray touched Bentley’s arm, just as she was about to say something, and she shut her mouth.