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The Philadelphia Medical Examiner’s Office was nearly as busy as the kitchen at Cucina Toscana. That wasn’t very encouraging.

“Bad night?” Faith asked the receptionist, a harried-looking man of about thirty.

He sighed. “The summer heat has everyone acting grouchy. Eight homicides in the past seventy-two hours. That’s close to three times the average, and the average is already high.”

Michael looked on grimly as two orderlies wheeled a gurney covered in a sheet to the large elevator at the end of the hall. “Grouchy’s one way to put it.”

“Honestly, I think it’s the West case getting everyone worked up,” the receptionist said. “That guy was like a god to the criminal underworld.”

Faith frowned, and Michael cleared his throat. The receptionist looked between the two agents and blanched. His hand came to his mouth, and he said, “Oh God. You’re… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Faith said curtly. “We need to speak with Doctor”—she checked the file— “Spencer.”

“Yes, of course. Let me see if she’s available. I’m so sorry.”

Faith nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. The receptionist dialed a number and waited, looking nervously at Faith. After a moment, he said, “Dr. Spencer? I have two FBI agents here to see you. They’re here about the restaurant cases.” He paused a moment, then said, “Wonderful, I’ll send them down.”

He hung up and smiled at the agents. “You can go see her right now. She’s in room seven in the B2 level. I’m so—”

Faith spun on her heel and started off before he could apologize again. Michael and Turk hurried to catch up. Well, Michael hurried. Turk trotted easily, his four legs making it effortless for him to match his irritated handler’s pace.

She hated that she was so affected by the receptionist’s statement, but she couldn’t help it. Her biggest fear with West aside from her fear that he would kill people she cared about was that he would inspire more people to follow in his footsteps the way Trammell had inspired West to follow in his. To hear that West may actually have accomplished that galled her.

Michael waited until they were in the elevator to speak, then said, “Hey, Faith, he’s just a kid working reception here. He doesn’t know anything.”

“He’s almost my age, and he interacts with cops every day.”

“You know how many cops don’t know jack about the city?”

She sighed. “Please don’t try to make me feel better, Michael. I’ll get over it in a minute, but I can’t handle the fake bullshit rationalization.”

“It’s not fake, and it’s not bullshit. Spikes in crime happen all the time for any number of reasons. Maybe this has something to do with West, or maybe gangsters are just violent. If I were a betting man, I’d be putting my money on the latter.”

She sighed again. “Okay. Sounds good.” It most certainly did not sound good. Ending the conversation sounded good.

The elevator opened, and Michael let the subject drop. Faith led the two of them down the cold concrete corridor toward the autopsy room where Dr. Spencer awaited them. Four of the rooms were in use between the elevator and room six. Faith kept her eyes stoically ahead, refusing to glance through the windows at the bodies being dissected within. The Marine Corps had given her a strong stomach even before she joined the FBI, but seeing people get picked apart like science projects wasn’t something she cared to witness right now.

She walked into autopsy room six to see Harold Grimes on Dr. Spencer’s table. Her heart sank. She’d have to witness this after all.

Dr. Spencer was a sturdy woman in her late forties with strong features and a solid build. She shook the agents’ hands and nodded professionally at Turk before saying, “Well, they were definitely poisoned. I assume that’s what you came here to ask.”

“We were hoping you could tell us a little more detail,” Faith asked.

Dr. Spencer sighed. “That’s the kicker. We know it’s poison, but we don’t know what kind of poison. It’s a sodium channel blocker, but that could be anything from tetrodotoxin to heart medicine. Some beta receptor antagonists have sodium channel blockade properties. The problem is that what we took out of their blood doesn’t look like any of that. I mean, it looks like it, but not the same. You can tell it’s a car, but it’s not any model you’ve ever seen before. Kind of like that.”

“Is the poison the same between both victims?”

“The poison is the same, but both victims also experienced complications that seem unrelated to sodium channel blocker poisoning. Harold here had a severe allergic reaction.”

“To what?”

“I don’t know. I assume the poison or some component of it, but if so, then this is, to my knowledge, the first time anyone’s exhibited an allergic reaction to this class of chemical.”

“Could it be the food?” Faith asked.

Doctor Spencer shook her head, “They didn’t both have allergic reactions. Harold did. Eleanor suffered coronary irregularities. Same poison. Different results. That’s why it’s difficult to get a handle on it. The lab is going to take some time, too.”

“We have the authority to put a rush on it,” Faith said.

“I respect that, but it doesn’t matter. The mayor couldn’t make it happen faster. The governor couldn’t. God Himself could step in here and put a rush on it and…”

“We get it,” Michael said sharply.

Spencer didn’t seem affected by his correction. Years of experience dealing with law enforcement gave her a thick skin. Faith decided she liked her. “What else can you tell us?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. Neither of these deaths were ‘clean.’ The other complications they suffered at the same moment as the poison make things really difficult. In both cases, their adrenaline and norepinephrine levels spiked, and that muddies a lot of things up when you’re trying to isolate a unique poison.”

“Could that be an effect of the poison?” Michael asked. “The increased epinephrine levels?”

Spencer smiled slightly. “Could be. Or it could be the body’s natural response to a heart attack and a severe allergic reaction. I’m leaning toward the latter primarily because Harold’s histamine levels were significantly elevated while Eleanor’s were baseline.”

“So it’s unrelated,” Faith surmised.

Spencer sighed. “That’s the kicker. I’m leaning toward unrelated, but it could be related. We really won’t know until we know the exact formula of the poison.”

“So we’re back to waiting on the lab,” Michael said.

“As far as an answer on the poison goes? Yes, I’m afraid so.”

Faith pursed her lips and nodded. “Thank you for your time, Doctor. Please call us if you learn anything else.”

“I will.” She smiled at Turk. “Maybe your good boy will sniff something out.”

Turk barked professionally, and the doctor laughed. "Good dogs. I had a Malinois when I was in my twenties. They’re pretty similar to German Shepherds. Great working dogs, really goofy when they’re not working.”

Faith smiled. "That's Turk, all right."

Spencer gave Turk another smile, then said, “Good luck, agents. I hope you find this guy soon.”

“Us too.”

The three of them left the coroner’s office. Michael wore the dark frown he always wore when confronted with a dead end, but he avoided his usual grumpiness, probably recalling his exhortation to Faith not to be pessimistic. “I’m thinking we get dinner from Sammie’s and eat it at the office so we can brainstorm. What do you think?”

Faith frowned. She had been avoiding the office as much as possible over the past four months with the West trial making her even more of a celebrity than she already was. She wouldn’t be able to think with all the other agents staring and whispering.

“I see your office and raise you literally anywhere else. How about my place?”

Michael didn’t answer right away. Faith looked sideways at him, and he said, “I was trying to think of something funny to say, but I’m too frazzled to think right now, so I’ll just say yes.”

“Well, I need you to be able to think, so let’s get you some food.”

“Sounds great to me.”

They grabbed sandwiches from Sammie’s, a local sub place that was popular with the Field Office and headed to Faith’s apartment. Michael ate half of his sandwich on the drive over and was in a better mood when they arrived. Faith gave Turk some food then joined Michael at the table. He had already finished his sandwich by the time she sat down.

“You should try to take a breath or two in between bites,” she suggested.

“No can do. Why breathe when you can enjoy a legitimate Philly Cheese Steak instead?”

Faith shook her head. “If I wanted cheese whiz and ground beef, I’d pour a can of the stuff in a blender with Turk’s dog food.”

“How can you say that? You’re from Philly.”

“You’re from California, and you don’t like pineapple on pizza.”

“What? That’s Hawaiian pizza.”

“Is it? I thought that was a California thing.”

He sighed. “Eat your sandwich. Your brain needs fuel.”

“I won’t argue with you there.”

While Faith dug into her Italian club, Michael summarized the case so far. “Okay, so we have two food critics, both dead in restaurants they were reviewing. Crestwood for sure is known for being scathing. It looks likes Grimes was a little less well-known, but he was considered tough but fair according to the sources I found.”

“When did you look up our victims?”

“While you were making Turk food.”

“Damn. You work fast.”

“Thank God for the Internet. Anyway, the vics were in the same line of work, but they don’t appear to have known each other. However, it’s likely that a lot of people knew both of them. I’m thinking we make a list of restaurants that both of them reviewed negatively, bonus points if those reviews were recent and extra bonus points if there’s been a decline in popularity at any of the restaurants.”

“Good thinking,” Faith agreed. “I’m still a little skeptical about the poison, though.”

“How so?”

“How do two people at two different restaurants get poisoned the same way at the same relative time? And if it’s the appetizer or the drink poisoning them, why didn’t the poison show up on their dishes?”

“We’re still waiting on the lab for that result.”

Faith shook her head. “We’re waiting on the lab to know what the exact poison was, but they were able to tell that both victims were poisoned with the same substance. They should have been able to match that poison to the physical evidence recovered at the scene. They didn’t, ergo, they weren’t poisoned via their food or drinks.”

“So how were they poisoned?”

Faith leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I think that’s the million-dollar question. We can’t figure out what the poison is. We’re stuck waiting on the lab results. So I think we need to focus on how the poison could have been delivered.”

“How do we do that?”

She thought a moment. “I’m not sure.”

Michael sighed. “Yeah, me either.”

She thought another moment, then said, “So that puts us back to the personal connection. We should look into the professional connection—anyone who’s been poorly reviewed by both of them—and the personal one.”

“Personal one?”

“Anyone who could have known both victims, even tangentially. You and I both know that even a passing interaction with the right psychopath can cause them to spiral into violence.”

"Yes. Yes, I do. All right. I’ll get started. Mind if I crash on your couch?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Ellie’s not going to be concerned about you sleeping over when you’re five minutes from your house?”

“If I go home, I won’t get any work done. Besides, she doesn’t hate you anymore.”

“That’s nice to know,” Faith said drily.

“Well, you’re a charming person when you’re not falsely accusing her of being the Copycat Donkey Killer.”

“Thank you so much for bringing that up.”

“I’m just saying, she’s not pissed at you anymore. And I really won’t get any work done if I go home to her.”

She smiled at him. “You’re so cute when you’re in love.”

“It’s the bees’ knees.” Faith grinned, and he said, “Make fun of me later. Work now.”

Faith laughed and said, “As you command, my lord.”

Michael grimaced. “Just say atta girl next time.”

Faith laughed again and stood. “You want the rest of my sandwich? I’m going to prowl our victims’ social media accounts and see if I can find anything.”

“Why do you even ask? You know I want the rest of your sandwich.”

She set the half-eaten club in front of him. “Enjoy.”

“That’s not what it’s about but thank you.”

She chuckled and headed to her desk to work. As she booted up her desktop, it occurred to her that despite the fact that this case seemed every bit as challenging as past cases, she wasn’t nearly so stressed over it. With the weight of Franklin West off of her back, she was able to take these challenges in stride.

She’d have to be careful not to let that calm make her ineffective. The last thing she needed was to be so relaxed that she let something slip through the cracks and allowed a serial killer to murder again.