a typical case for you?” O’Donnell asked, taking a long swig of her beer.
“No case is really typical,” Zoe said. “Each one has unique characteristics.”
“Serial killers are like snowflakes, huh?”
Zoe frowned. “I can’t really see the comparison.”
“No two are alike.”
“Well, serial killers do have some common traits,” Tatum said. “That’s why we can do what we do. We don’t just make up a profile. We base it on comparison to similar individuals.”
“For example, the blood drinking isn’t unique at all,” Zoe said. “There were several well-known cases, even just in the United States. John Crutchley was one. And the Vampire of Sacramento, of course. And—”
“Okay!” O’Donnell raised her hand to stop her. “So you look at the common traits and derive the killer’s psyche from that?”
“That’s part of it,” Tatum said. “But it’s not just about creating a profile. We try and come up with a strategy to catch the killer, using methods that have been successful before.”
“And how long have you been doing it?”
“Well . . . what year is it?” Tatum made a show of glancing at a calendar hanging on the wall. “It’s 2016, huh? Then I’ve been doing it for about . . . three months now.”
“Seriously? Three months?” O’Donnell sounded miffed. “I thought you two were serious hotshots, not the FBI’s newbies.”
Tatum grinned. “Oh, Zoe’s the real thing. She’s been doing it for a while now. I’m here mostly for my good looks and razor-sharp wit.” His phone rang, and he took it out. “Hello? Yeah, Marvin, I . . . it’s music. Yes, I know you know what music is . . . I’m in a bar. Yes, killers are still prowling the streets of Chicago. What? What do you mean the cat broke it? How did he get the remote? Hang on—I can hardly hear you.” Tatum gave Zoe an apologetic look and stepped out of the bar.
“Who’s Marvin?” O’Donnell asked Zoe.
Zoe ran her finger along her mug’s rim. “He’s Tatum’s grandfather. They live together.”
“Oh. Is Tatum taking care of him?”
“I’m not entirely sure.” Zoe frowned. “His grandfather is quite capable. And from what I can tell, they mostly just argue. But I think Tatum is Marvin’s only family, so they stick together.”
“Hang on . . . Marvin is Marvin Gray?”
“You’ve heard of him?” Zoe asked in surprise.
“He appears in the case file of Glover’s assault of your sister. He shot Glover.”
“That’s him. Like I said, he’s very capable.” Zoe felt weird about O’Donnell reading about Andrea’s assault. It was relevant to the current investigation, and professionally she should be aware of Glover’s past. But it somehow felt personal. As if O’Donnell had found out about a family secret.
“So it’s just Tatum and his grandfather?”
“And a cat. And also a fish, I think.”
“No girlfriend?”
For a confused second, Zoe thought she was referring to Marvin’s girlfriend. Then she got it. “No. Uh . . . I don’t think so. Tatum doesn’t have a girlfriend.” She took a sip from her beer, wishing Tatum would come back.
“And what about you? Do you have a husband? Or boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Uh-huh.” O’Donnell tilted her head.
“What?” Zoe asked, feeling annoyed.
“Nothing. Well . . . the way Tatum looks at you and talks about you. I just wondered.”
“Wondered about what?”
“If you two ever hooked up.”
“Of course not.” Blood rushed to Zoe’s face. Flustered, she turned away, gulping some beer.
“Why not?”
“We’re working together. We’re practically partners.”
“So . . . what, you didn’t hook up because it’s against the bureau’s regulations?”
“Yes. No! We didn’t hook up because we’re not interested in each other like that.”
“Okay.”
“You’re doing that thing with your head again.”
“What thing?” O’Donnell blinked innocently.
“This . . . thing.” Zoe tilted her own head to demonstrate.
“I don’t do that.”
“You do that all the time.”
“Look, I’m just saying: Tatum practically worships you. I think that’s an attractive quality in a man. Plus, you know, he’s actually attractive. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
Zoe thought about that morning. Waking up to see Tatum there. The feeling of being held in his arms. She shook her head violently. “That would be a terrible idea even if either of us were interested.”
“No argument there. I’m just messing with you.” O’Donnell winked at her and finished her mug. She motioned to the bartender and asked for another.
Zoe still felt unsettled by the entire idea. “No guy is worth throwing away your professional life for.”
“Maybe that’s true about your professional life. My job ain’t that precious these days. Of course I’m already happily married.” She waggled