Roadside Crosses (Kathryn Dance 2)

"Think he's going to try it again? That's what the anchors are saying."

"That's what they're speculating," Dance corrected delicately.

"Since we don't know why he attacked her in the first place, Tammy Foster, we can't say," O'Neil said.

"And the cross is connected? It was left as a message?"

"The flowers match forensically, yes."

"Ouch. I just hope it doesn't turn into a Summer of Sam thing."

"A . . . what's that, Charles?" Dance asked.

"That guy in New York. Leaving notes, shooting people."

"Oh, that was a movie." TJ was their reference librarian of popular culture. "Spike Lee. The killer was Son of Sam."

"I know," Overby said quickly. "Just making a pun. Son and Summer."

"We don't have any evidence one way or the other. We don't know anything yet, really."

Overby was nodding. He never liked not having answers. For the press, for his bosses in Sacramento. That made him edgy, which in turn made everybody else edgy too. When his predecessor, Stan Fishburne, had had to retire unexpectedly on a medical and Overby had assumed the job, dismay was the general mood. Fishburne was the agents' advocate; he'd take on anybody he needed to in supporting them. Overby had a different style. Very different.

"I got a call from the AG already." Their ultimate boss. "Made the news in Sacramento. CNN too. I'll have to call him back. I wish we had something specific."

"We should know more soon."

"What're the odds that it was just a prank gone bad? Like hazing the pledges. Fraternity or sorority thing. We all did that in college, didn't we?"

Dance and O'Neil hadn't been Greek. She doubted TJ had been, and Rey Carraneo had gotten his bachelor's in criminal justice at night while working two jobs.

"Pretty grim for a practical joke," O'Neil said.

"Well, let's keep it as an option. I just want to make sure that we stay away from panic. That won't help anything. Downplay any serial-actor angle. And don't mention the cross. We're still reeling from that case earlier in the month, the Pell thing." He blinked. "How did the deposition go, by the way?"

"A delay." Had he not listened to her message at all?

"That's good."

"Good?" Dance was still furious about the motion to dismiss.

Overby blinked. "I mean it frees you up to run this Roadside Cross Case."

Thinking about her old boss. Nostalgia can be such sweet pain.

"What are the next steps?" Overby asked.

"TJ's checking out the security cameras at the stores and car dealerships near where the cross was left." She turned to Carraneo. "And, Rey, could you canvass around the parking lot where Tammy was abducted?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What're you working on now, Michael, at MCSO?" Overby asked.

"Running a gang killing, then the Container Case."

"Oh, that."

The Peninsula had been largely immune to terrorist threats. There were no major seaports here, only fishing docks, and the airport was small and had good security. But a month or so ago a shipping container had been smuggled off a cargo ship from Indonesia docked in Oakland and loaded on a truck headed south toward L.A. A report suggested that it had gotten as far as Salinas, where, possibly, the contents had been removed, hidden and then transferred to other trucks for forward routing.