Jack frowned and bent to retrieve it. One of the papers Delta had dropped, maybe? He looked at the huge pile of files and flipped open the top one. Paperwork filled out in Selina’s neat handwriting. Attached to it was a picture of the now-familiar murder scene. The New Orleans files had arrived. She’d have to help him sort through them when she got back from the break room. He could definitely use another gallon or three of espresso. Without Gregor as a viable suspect, they were back to square one. Jack pulled out the first picture and set it on his desk, then went digging to find the other three. Four victims in the Big Easy, Selina had said. He wanted to see them lined up together, compare them to the other victims’ pictures. Especially since this was the one city that seemed to have started it all, but didn’t quite fit the pattern. There was no denying these pictures, though. He’d guess once the tech guys went over the many photos of the fang puncture wounds—or mouthpiece punctures—they’d find they were an exact match to all the others.
