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“We’ve got good news and bad news,” Jamil announced to the team members assembled in the HSS research department at LAPD’s Central Station.

Jessie turned away from the desk she’d been working at. She knew better than to get her hopes up. If this was a major discovery, the brilliant young researcher probably would have left out the “bad news” part.

Still, they’d all been grinding away in this overheated office for three hours now without much to show for it, so any good news was better than none.

“Tell us,” Ryan asked.

“The good news is that CSU just issued their preliminary report, and they found a partial fingerprint at the Whitaker home that doesn’t belong to either James or Sarah,” he said. “Unfortunately, it’s not enough to make an identification in any database. But if we get a suspect in custody, a match might be possible at that point.”

“I guess that’s better than nothing,” Jessie mumbled unconvincingly. She looked at the time. It was 7:47 p.m. “Should we update Captain Parker on where we’re at? I feel like we’ve hit a wall, at least for today.”

“She actually left a few hours ago,” Beth said.

“Without checking in with us?” Jessie said. “That’s not like her.”

“Maybe she had another event for her kid,” Ryan suggested snarkily.

“I actually think she did,” Beth said. “She ran out of here pretty fast.”

“Regardless, let’s not complain about not getting the third degree,” he replied. “I think everyone should call it a night. We can come at this thing fresh tomorrow morning.”

“You all go ahead,” Jamil said. “I’m going to stick around a little longer to see if I can find any other unhappy clients of Whitaker’s from his time at the investment bank he worked at before Wiley McComb. We haven’t really explored that angle.”

Jessie knew better than to suggest that Jamil hold off until morning. Once he got fixated on a task, there was no pulling him away from it. Sometimes, he worked through the night on this stuff without a break. The kid was a freak of nature.

But she wasn't—at least not in that way. Apparently, unlike Jamil, she needed at least a few hours of sleep to function efficiently. She always feared that taking any kind of break could mean she'd miss something important, but if she didn't get some shuteye, the same thing might happen. Getting up slowly, she stretched her arms to the ceiling and yawned, then did a couple of lunges.

“You want to drive?” she asked Ryan, who was shoving some papers in a manila folder.

“Sure,” he replied. “You know I love to be at the wheel.”

“You mean be in charge?” she teased.

He was just opening his mouth to deliver a comeback when Beth interrupted.

"Um, guys, I think you may want to hear this."

The tone in her voice immediately made the hairs on the back of Jessie’s neck stand up. Before she could say anything, Ryan was standing up.

“What is it?” he asked.

"A 911 dispatcher just sent officers out to a home in the Hollywood Hills," Beth said. "A man says he saw a masked figure sneaking out of his neighbor's house. When he went over to check on them, he found the husband tied up and the wife dead."

Jessie looked at Ryan, who had already started toward the door.

“We’re on our way,” he called out over his shoulder, “Text us the address. Then call us while we’re en route with whatever else you can find out.”

Jessie followed him out the door without a word. She had to break into a run to catch up to him. By the time she did, he was already at the elevator, punching the down button repeatedly.