“This is the situation room for the Strangling Undertaker cases,” Martinez explained. “Please, come in.”

“The Strangling Undertaker?” Tatum raised an eyebrow.

“That’s what the newspapers started calling him,” Martinez said. “A reporter came up with the nickname a few days ago, and it’s caught on.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Tatum muttered.

Martinez introduced Tatum to the people in the room. Five were detectives. The sixth, a much older man with frizzed hair and numerous liver spots, was introduced as Dr. Ruben Bernstein.

“Bernstein joined the task force three days ago, soon after we found the second body,” Martinez said. “He’s an experienced profiler, and he’s already been a tremendous help.”

“That’s good to hear.” Tatum nodded and shook Bernstein’s hand. The old man’s handshake was limp, making Tatum feel as if he were handling a dead fish. “I take it there’s been some progress? When my chief filled me in, she described the situation as quite dire.”

“Well, it’s definitely bleak,” Martinez said, his face grim. “People are scared. These bodies showed up in very public places and were seen by families with kids. But Dr. Bernstein’s narrowed the pool of suspects significantly, so we’re finally making some headway.”

“Good,” Tatum said. “I’m glad to hear you’re moving in the right direction. Do you want to fill me in?”

“Have you read the case files?” Martinez asked.

“I did,” Tatum said. “And I’m only here to consult, but I’d be glad for a short summary and an up-to-date assessment of the situation.”

“Absolutely. Have a seat,” Martinez said.

Tatum glanced at the table. The five detectives all sat on one end, Dr. Bernstein at the other, with several empty chairs on either side. He sat down next to the old profiler.

“This is Susan Warner,” Martinez said, pointing to an image on one of the whiteboards. It depicted a woman lying on the grass, her entire body rigid, her mouth agape. She was dressed in a black evening dress, one of its sleeves torn, the bottom scrunched up to her thighs. Her legs were bare. Her body seemed to be in almost perfect condition, her skin pink except for her left foot, which was black and green and slightly bloated.

“Victim is twenty-two years old. She was found on April twelfth of this year on the shore of Foster Beach. The body was embalmed except for the left foot, which was already in an advanced state of decomposition. Warner was an art student living alone in Pilsen. She was reported missing by one of her friends four days before her body was found. Time of death was hard to estimate because her body was embalmed, but according to the state of the foot, the medical examiner estimated she’d been dead for at least five days. The cause of death was strangulation. We found traces of embalming fluid and blood in the shower at her apartment. There were indications that the body was sexually assaulted postmortem.”

Tatum listened carefully. He had read all that twice already, but he wanted to know what the lieutenant would focus on.

“The second victim”—Martinez pointed at another image—“was Monique Silva.”

Tatum looked at the picture he had first seen in Chief Mancuso’s office. Monique Silva’s body stood on a wooden bridge above a stream, leaning on the railing, as if staring at the water. Her eyes were open, her mouth shut. She was dressed in a skirt, stockings, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her skin was completely gray.

“Silva was aged twenty-one, a prostitute working Logan Square. She was found a week ago, on July seventh. A man who identified himself as her cousin but is a known pimp reported her missing only a day before her body was found, but he said she had been missing for at least a week before that. Cause of death was, again, strangulation. There were bruises indicating she had been tied up before being killed. Again, the body was sexually assaulted postmortem. We checked with eyewitnesses—”

“Hang on,” Tatum said. “Was there embalming fluid found in her home as well?”

“No, but she wasn’t living alone,” Martinez said. “We believe she was snatched off the street and taken somewhere else.”

“Okay.” Tatum nodded. “Do you know why the body’s skin color is gray? The first body’s skin looks much better.” This hadn’t been mentioned in the case file.

“According to the ME, the killer probably used a different mixture of embalming fluid,” Martinez said. “The lifelike colors in the first body are because of a red dye in the embalming fluid.”

“I see,” Tatum said. “What are your leads?”

“The killer was careful,” Martinez said. “Hardly any traces of DNA on Susan Warner’s body. There was a reasonable amount of semen found on Monique Silva, but she was a prostitute, so that wasn’t entirely surprising. No matches on CODIS to the samples.”

Tatum nodded.

“Absolutely no witnesses for the first murder,” Martinez said. “The second victim was probably taken from the street, and we’ve interrogated some of her associates. We have several descriptions of male customers who approached the victim the last evening she was seen on the street, but they’re very general. We found a bunch of fingerprints in Susan Warner’s apartment, at least seven different people, and tracing those fingerprints led us nowhere.”