Jake propped up the wall outside Captain Castillo’s office in the Northeast Division with one shoulder. Castillo hated tardiness almost as much as he hated the press. Jake hadn’t bothered knocking on the office door because he could hear Castillo’s voice on the other side. He’d end the phone call at precisely three thirty and open that door, expecting Jake to be standing right where he was. And if he weren’t there? He didn’t know. He’d never tempted fate like that. He had to play by certain rules so that he could break others. The low drone of Castillo’s voice stopped, and Jake stood at attention. The door swung open, framing Castillo, navy suit slightly rumpled, salt-and-pepper hair already escaping from the pomade Castillo slathered on his head. The captain nodded once. “McAllister.” Jake followed the captain into the room, taking the lone chair on the other side of the functional desk, and dove right in. “I’m assuming this is about the two murders.” “It is. We’ve identified the second victim, Kelsey Lindquist.” Castillo shoved a picture of a pretty blonde across his desk. “No connection to Marissa Perez that we can see. They didn’t know each other, live in…