The Stranger You Know (Forensic Instincts 3)

“I noticed.” Her lips curved a bit. “I still can’t sleep. But staying awake did become infinitely more pleasurable. Your efforts are greatly appreciated, SSA Hutchinson.”

“Glad to be of service. Diversionary tactics are one of my strong suits.”

“You have many strong suits. Getting my mind off things I can’t control doesn’t even rank close to the top of that list.” She raised herself up and kissed him. “Thank you for moving the mountains I’m sure you had to move in order to get here.”

“This is where I need to be,” he said simply. “I’ll use whatever personal time I’ve accrued so I can stay until this threat to you is over. If that becomes necessary.”

Casey’s brows drew together. The only way it wouldn’t be necessary for Hutch to use his vacation time would be if he was here in an official capacity. And she didn’t see that in the cards.

“I doubt the NYPD is going to ask for the BAU’s assistance on this one,” she said. “Even if this does turn out to be one long-time offender—which I believe it will—the New York cops have the training and resources to conduct the investigation alone.”

“You’re right,” Hutch said. “That’s why I’m going at this from a different angle.”

“Which is?”

“I spoke to Patrick. If things play out the way I think they will, he’s going to put the bug in the Hoboken P.D.’s ear. We’ll have a serial killer who’s been active for fifteen years, and who chose a Hoboken resident as his latest victim. Not only that, but he disposed of her body in town. They’ll have every reason to ask for help. Especially when there’s an FBI agent who works at the BAU already in place—an agent who’s ready, willing and able to assist with the investigation.”

“You’re not exactly objective on this one,” Casey pointed out.

“No, I’m not. Which gives me extra incentive to solve it. You and I have done this dance before. I don’t step over the line.”

Casey glanced at him dubiously. “I doubt your supervisor’s going to buy that, not this time. Every clash we’ve had in the past has been case-related. I’ve never been a potential victim before.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about handling my boss?” Hutch rolled Casey onto her back, that familiar smoky look in his eyes. “Are you planning on sleeping or not?”

“Not.”

He shifted his weight, covering her body with his. “Then let’s put this time to good use.”

* * *

It was almost dawn when the Hoboken P.D. called Patrick on his cell phone to report that they’d found Maura Harris’s body in a grassy area behind a string of buildings on Jackson Street between 5th and 6th. Her boyfriend had come in and made a positive ID, and the medical examiner had done a preliminary autopsy.

The description of the body they provided was practically identical to that of Kendra Mallery’s. Maura Harris had been wrapped in a canvas tarp, beneath which her nude body was as limp as a rag doll. Her clothing had been shredded. There was physical evidence of rape—no semen, but severe vaginal bruising. Her wrists had been bound together. The cause of death was strangulation, and the hyoid bone in her neck was fractured. She must have put up a fight, because there was a shallow stab wound on the right side of her abdomen. Contrary to that destruction, lipstick had been applied to her lips as if to enhance her appearance. But locks of her hair had been snipped off, and there was a red ribbon tied around her throat in a bow.

The one addition to the scenario was that tucked beneath the red ribbon was another clump of hair. It didn’t match the exact color and texture of Maura’s.

“Tell your contact at the Hoboken P.D. to work with the Twenty-sixth Precinct and get the NYPD lab to run a DNA test,” Hutch instructed Patrick as the team reconvened—yet again—around the conference room table. “I’d be willing to bet that the hair tucked into the red bow belongs to Kendra Mallery. The killer is putting his mark on the crimes, driving home the connection between the two and taunting us with his superiority at the same time.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Patrick said, making the phone call.

Casey leaned her head back and dragged a hand through her hair. “Kendra. Now Maura. It’s my fault that they’re dead.”

“Cut it out, Casey.” Ryan sliced the air with the side of his hand. “This guy is insane. His action

s are his doing, not yours.”

“Yes, but he’s after me. He just has some sick need to prove something before he closes in on me. Why? Who the hell is he?”

As if on cue, the Forensic Instincts’ landline rang.

Seeing the NYPD number on caller ID, Casey pressed the speaker phone button. “Forensic Instincts.”

“Ms. Woods? This is Captain Sharp,” the caller said.

“Hello, Captain. I have you on speaker. The whole team is here.” She drew a deep breath. “What do you have for us?”

“A hell of a puzzle,” he replied in a grim tone. “Word got through to me at the same time as it did to the First Precinct.” That was the police precinct right there in Tribeca, where the body, presumably Jan’s, had been found.