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The crowd for the press conference was bigger than Jessie had expected.

It was being held on the steps of LAPD headquarters rather than at Central Station. Jessie understood the logic of it. Normally, she would worry about something like this creating a panic. But that was the risk that came with warning the public about a very real danger. The more pomp and circumstance the event had, the more media attention it would get and the more Angelenos that would be made aware of the threat they were facing.

They were already a little late. It was 11:07, but Chief Decker had been held up on a phone call and was just now making his way outside. As he approached them, Jessie realized that she hadn't seen the man in forever. She hadn't been there when he'd tried to broker a truce between Ryan and Captain Parker last month. In fact, the last time she'd spoken to him in person was before the new year.

Chief Roy Decker used to be Captain Decker—Parker’s current position—back when he ran Central Station. Prior to being bumped up to chief he’d been Jessie’s boss, and despite his outwardly surly demeanor, he one of the strongest advocates of HSS, and of her personally.

In some ways, he hadn’t changed much. He looked a decade older than his sixty-one years, with a face comprised primarily of craggy peaks and valleys. A few gray tufts of hair still allowed him to claim he wasn’t totally bald. And his sharp nose and beady, penetrating eyes still reminded Jessie of an eagle hunting its prey. But it was clear that being in charge of the entire department had taken its toll. He was more slouched, with tired eyes and somehow, an even more weathered energy to him than usual.

He walked up to her and gave something close to a smile. Next to her, Parker saluted.

“Good morning, Chief,” she said dutifully.

“Good morning, Captain Parker,” he said, before addressing Jessie, “and good morning to you, Ms. Hunt.”

“Good morning, Chief,” she said. “I assume it would be inappropriate to give you a hug, what with all the press in attendance?”

“It would,” he said, “but I appreciate the thought. Since I’m late, maybe we can save the heartfelt pleasantries for later and get going on this. Where’s Detective Hernandez?”

"Right here, Chief," Ryan said, from behind him. "I was just conferring with the security contingent. I thought the roped-off area for the general public was too close to the stairs and asked them to move it back."

“Great,” Decker said, “so now that we’ve got the whole team here, let’s review the plan. We’re just sharing basic details on the murders. Nothing that could lead to copycats or prevent us from identifying the killer later. Forceful but calm warning to the public to be cautious and vigilant. That all sound good?”

“Yes, Chief,” all three of them said in unison.

“And I understand that Hunt will be front and center for this?” Decker confirmed.

“She described the case status to me earlier,” Parker said, “and I thought she had a good handle on it. Plus, her semi-celebrity status might get more eyeballs on this thing, which means more people kept safe.”

“I like that,” Decker said. “You good with it?”

“I guess I have to be,” Jessie said.

"I guess you do," Decker agreed without a trace of sympathy. "Then let's get this thing started. I want it plastered on the noon news. Plus, I have another meeting at 11:30."

He nodded to the public information officer, who stepped to the podium and turned on the microphone. She tapped on it, making the speakers on either side of the stairs pop with static. The crowd quieted noticeably.

“I’m PIO Tanya Cantu,” the woman said crisply. “I want to thank you all for coming on such short notice. We have some important information we’d like to share with the public. To do that, I’d like to invite up one of LAPD’s premiere criminal profilers, Jessie Hunt. As some of you may be aware, Ms. Hunt works in our elite Homicide Special Section unit and has been instrumental in bringing multiple violent predators to justice, including Xander Thurman, better known as the Ozark Executioner, his protégé Bolton Crutchfield, as well as the Night Hunter, and more recently, Mark Haddonfield. So when she has something to say, it’s worth listening. Ms. Hunt?”

Jessie hadn’t been expecting such an elaborate introduction, and if she’d known it was coming, she would have shut it down. The last thing she needed was for some future killer to view outwitting her as some kind of challenge. Her celebrity status already made her a target, one who had turned her home into a veritable fortress. Now a whole batch of fresh crazies were more likely to want to say “hi.”

“Hello everyone,” she said, her voice booming louder than intended as she leaned into the microphone. She stopped for a moment, wondering if the echo she heard was from her voice bouncing off the walls of the surrounding buildings or from her fast-beating heart. The reporters at the bottom of the stairs all had the ravenous looks of wolves, hoping to get a meaty story to chew on. Well, she had one for them.

“I’ll try to keep this short,” she began, now sounding more like her normal self. “We want to make Angelenos aware of a disturbing series of home invasion killings in recent days. We can’t get into too many particulars but what we can say is that the perpetrator has acted alone in each instance, that they have not forced their way in but snuck in while the victims—typically couples—were arriving home. During the invasions, the killer has worn dark clothing and a ski mask. We believe that the attacker is male. At this time, we’re not able to describe the method used to kill the victims, nor any additional physical details about him.”

The reporters began to balk in unison at that last comment, but Jessie held up her hand to quiet them.

“However,” she continued, “we can offer several recommendations as we continue our investigation. First and foremost, please don’t make any rash decisions. Just because someone you don’t know arrives at your door, don’t jump to conclusions and take matters into your own hands. If you have concerns, call the police.

“Having said that, here is what we believe you should do. First, be aware of your surroundings at all times, especially when you are returning home. If your house is gated or has a garage, make sure that it is closed before exiting your vehicle. When entering your home, move quickly and lock your doors immediately once you are inside. Obviously, keep your doors locked in general. And take particular note if someone in your household becomes ill while returning from an activity. The perpetrator has been known to use that vulnerability and distractedness on the part of the victim and their loved ones to gain entry while their attention is on the person in distress. Following these recommendations will vastly reduce your exposure to harm until we are able to bring this person to justice. Are there any questions?”

There was an almost immediate cacophony of shouts and wildly waved arms. Jessie was relieved to see Officer Cantu step up to join her at the podium.

“Hold on,” she bellowed, “we’re going to do this in an organized manner.”

As Cantu explained the rules, Jessie noticed someone near the front of the crowd of journalists. What drew her attention to him was what he lacked. He had no microphone or camera, there was no press credential card anywhere on his clothing, and he wasn’t trying to ask anything.

The man was just staring at her, his eyes aflame, with what looked like a hint of drool at the edge of his mouth. Jessie pretended not to notice, glancing away before returning her focus to him. His blue eyes were still fixed on her, like he was in some kind of reverie.

Jessie guessed that he was in his early thirties. He had jet-black hair parted severely to the side. He wore black slacks and a buttoned-down, paisley dress shirt that looked like he'd snagged it from a garage sale, circa 1976.

Cantu called on the first reporter and Jessie tore her eyes away from the man, trying to focus on the question being asked. But even as she listened, her eyes regularly darted back to the man. Something told her that she better not lose track of him.