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“Maybe I’ve been busy.”

For once Zerbrowski stayed quiet.

I looked at him. “You never answered my first question, am I going to the next murder scene to check Tammy’s work?”

He stopped rocking on his heels and stood quiet, face serious. “I don’t know, probably some.”

“I’m going home then.”

He touched my arm. “Go to the second scene, Anita, please. Don’t give Dolph any more reason to be more pissy.”

“That is not my problem, Zerbrowski. Dolph is making his own life hard on this one.”

“I know, but the couple officers that have been at both scenes say the second one is a bad one. More up your alley than Reynolds’s.”

“Up my alley, how?”

“Violent, real violent. Dolph doesn’t want to know if it’s magic, he wants to know if something that wasn’t human did it.”

“Dolph’s a fanatic about not giving details away to his people before they’ve seen a crime scene, Zerbrowski. What you’ve just told me would piss him off mightily.”

“I was afraid you wouldn’t go, if I didn’t . . . add a little.”

“Why do you care if Dolph and I are feuding?”

“We’re here to solve crimes, Anita, not fight each other. I don’t know what’s eating Dolph, but one of you has to be the grown-up.” He smiled. “Yeah. I know things have come to a sorry state when you’re the one, but there it is.”

I shook my head and slapped his arm. “You are such a pain in the ass, Zerbrowski.”

“It’s good to be appreciated,” he said.

The anger was fading, and with it the spurt of energy. I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Get me outside before I start feeling bad again. I’ll go see the second crime scene.”

He put his arm around my shoulders and gave me half a hug. “That’s my little federal marshal.”

I raised my head. “Don’t push it, Zerbrowski.”

“Can’t help myself, sorry.”

I sighed. “You’re right, you can’t help yourself. Forget I said anything, keep saying witty irritating things as you walk me back to Jason.”

He started me across the room, arm still across my shoulders. “How did you end up with a werewolf stripper as your driver for the day?”

“Just lucky I guess.”

19

THE SECOND SCENE was in Chesterfield, which had been a hot address for the up-and-comers before most of the money moved even farther out to Wildwood and beyond. The neighborhood that Jason drove us through was a sharp contrast to the big isolated houses we’d just seen. This was middle-class, middle America, backbone of the nation kind of neighborhood. There are thousands of subdivisions exactly like it. Except in this one, not all the houses were identical. They were still too close together and had a sameness about them, as if a hive mind had designed them all, but some were two-story, some only one, some brick, some not. Only the garage seemed to be the same on all of them, as if the architect wasn’t willing to compromise on that one feature.

There were medium sized trees in the yards, which meant the area was over ten years old. It takes time to grow trees.

I saw the giant antenna of the news van before I saw the police cars. “Shit.”

“What?” Jason asked.

“The reporters are already here.”

He glanced up. “How do you know?”

“Have you never seen a news van with one of those big antennas?”

“I guess not.”

“Lucky you,” I said.

Probably because of the news van, the police had blocked the street. When someone had time, they’d probably bring up those official-looking sawhorses. Right now they had a police cruiser, a uniformed officer leaning against it, and yellow do-not-cross tape strung from mailbox to mailbox across the entire street.

There were two local news vans and a handful of print media. You can always tell print, because they have the still cameras and no microphones. Though they will shove tape recorders in your face.

We had to park about half a block away because of them. When the engine shut off, Jason asked, “How did they hear about it so quickly?”

“One of the neighbors called it in, or one of the news vans was close for something else. Once something hits the police scanners, the reporters know about it.”

“Why weren’t there