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“I can probably pull files for anyone who matches the profile, but I don’t want to pull that many if I don’t have to because it’s going to attract attention.”

I nodded. I knew what he meant. What we were doing was going to create havoc—investigating a coroner and another detective, unearthing multiple closed cases that had been ruled suicides with the idea that they were actually homicides, not to mention the fact that he’d essentially be taking the case over from another detective.

Speaking of… “Can I ask about Van Buren?” I asked Smith.

A muscle ticked in the side of his jaw as though he’d just clenched his teeth. “Depends on what you’re going to ask,” he replied.

“Was he assigned to Gregory’s case, or were you?” It seemed like an innocuous enough question.

“We both were,” came the answer. Which meant that when Van Buren had talked to Ward, it hadn’t been poaching the case from Smith.

“Who’s lead?”

Smith shrugged his slender shoulders. “Unclear. He’s got seniority, so I suppose technically he is, but nobody actually said so.”

“Your chief?”

“What about him?” There was wariness there.

“Where’s he going to fall on this?”

Smith ran his hand through his thick auburn hair. “Gibbs is old-school, but I’ve never had reason to think he’s anything but fair.” It was a long-winded way to sayI don’t know.

“Is he the forgiveness or permission type?”

“What?”

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission?”

“Oh.” He thought about this, then sighed. “Probably permission,” he answered. “But I think we’re going to go with forgiveness for now.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Is that… going to be a problem?”

Smith shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Not to me, but I don’t fucking work here.” Oops. I was trying not to swear.

Smith barked out a rough laugh, though, so apparently he was amused rather than offended. Good. That would make this easier, because the longer I spent around him, the more swear words he was going to hear. “Well, we’ll find out whether or not I still do after all this shakes out,” he remarked.

“Brave man.”

“Or stupid,” he rejoined. “Not a lot of difference between the two in my experience.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“So in lieu of us having anything from the FBI,” he said, deciding to get back to the case. “All I have to work with is the Crane case.”

“And Redsky.”

“I don’t have a medium report on Redsky.”

“Would you like one?”

He looked at me as though I’d said something strange. I suppose I had—most people didn’t work with mediums, and they definitely didn’t work with mediums like Ward Campion. “Is that something you can get on command?”

“I wouldn’t use the word ‘command,’ but yes.” I shrugged. “He already confirmed for me that Tara Redsky was murdered.”

Smith ran his fingers through his hair again. “Oof.”