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when more people started filing into the large conference room. The main players on the Teddie Murders task force had all been pulled in for this morning's briefing. After the discovery of the third couple yesterday, the mood in the room was grim. Everyone looked exhausted as they took their seats. Many had been working seven days a week, sometimes twelve hours a day, since the first murders. Last night nobody'd gotten any sleep. Except her. Mick had sent her home because she was going on fumes, having worked the graveyard shift the night before and been up over twenty-four hours.
    Caro could feel the tired, curious gazes pause on her as they traversed the length of the table. No doubt they wondered what an officer from SIS, barely out of Traffic, was doing sitting in the same meeting as the chief of Forensics, the head of FIS, the deputy Coroner, the assistant M.E., the head of Crime Analysis, three of PPD's best Homicide detectives, and a dozen of the department's most decorated uniformed officers. She fought back the urge to bite her bottom lip, and instead smiled across the table at Brady Washington, who grabbed a seat next to his partner Denny.
    “Hey, Officer Palmer,” he said, taking in her prim business suit at a glance. She’d deliberately chosen it as a contrast to yesterday's outrageous get-up. “You feeling better today?” he asked with a wink.
    She rolled her eyes and grinned weakly. “Yes, thanks.”
    “That was one bad-ass crime scene. You done good, going back upstairs. Took guts.”
    She warmed under his praise but was spared comment when McGraw called the meeting to order. One by one, the departments gave their reports on the latest murders.
    “So far there's nothing concrete from the house,” said Maria Rawlins, Chief of Forensics. “We're working on a whole bunch of non-conforming hairs and fibers FIS found downstairs, but the neighbor said they had a dinner party Saturday night, so that's probably where they came from.”
    “Do we have a guest list?” McGraw asked.
    “Yep,” Bobby said. “Neighbor put it together for us this morning. Reed's team can call them all in to give statements and volunteer hair samples.” Officer Reed, who was in charge of the phone banks, gave a nod. Bobby continued, “Of course, the killer may have been one of the dinner guests.”
    Several people at the table groaned. This would mean countless hours trying to connect all the guests to the previous victims, even though the probability of it being one of them was less than slim. Still, all leads must be followed.
    “Anything else, Maria?”
    The Chief of Forensics shook her head. “Nothing at this point. But it's early days. It'll take weeks to go through all the vacuum bags from all the crime scenes.”
    “What about the bodies?” McGraw asked the assistant medical examiner.
    As A.M.E. Bruce Benedict gave the preliminary report of how, precisely, the victims had met their demises, Caro's gaze was inexorably drawn to the man sitting at the end of the table. Despite the sleepless night she knew Mick had had as head of the task force, he was impeccably dressed as always. Jacket over a crisp white shirt, razor sharp creases in his navy blue slacks. Tie knotted just so. Short sandy hair neatly brushed. She noticed it had a slight wave to it, just enough to beckon a woman's fingers to smooth it into place. What would it be like to touch? Silky? Coarse? How would it feel, fisted in her hands as she pulled his face closer—
    She came to with a start, almost dropping the chin she'd been resting on a palm as she stared at him. He was staring back.
    Holy shit.
    She had to get a grip. Fantasizing was one thing. Drooling was quite another.
    The assistant M.E. was saying, “Same weapons seem to have been used. Fillet knife in the back. Large hunting knife for the frontal wounds. More on that in the report. Our team is checking local hunting stores for a likely match for that one, since it’s the more unusual. Of