Page 90 of The Midnight Lock (Lincoln Rhyme 14)

“In a basket in the kitchen, Lon found a packet of green-apple Jolly Ranchers. Looks like there’s graphite on it.”

Rhyme said, “You mentioned the underwear he stole. What about the knives?”

“They’re not here.”

She was holding a small carton containing plastic and paper bags of what she’d collected. Chain-of-custody cards dangled from some items, likeFrom … Totags on Christmas presents. She added, “But there’s not much else, no computer, no phone. He’s got to have more tools too. A workshop someplace else.”

“Any leads to where?”

“No.”

“Get the evidence in. Send out his ID on the wire. But I wouldn’t announce it publicly. That’ll spook him.”

“Agreed,” she said.

Sachs had declared the apartment a crime scene, and that would now be information accessible to everyone at OnePP. Willis would hear and send Beaufort and Rodriguez to make sure that any evidence from the scene would be logged in to the Queens lab. She’d have to move fast.

A crowd was gathering, a couple of dozen people. Reporters too. Always the press, calling questions. She ignored them.

Lon Sellitto joined her. “Still nothing on Kitt’s Audi in the vehicle recognition system.”

Sachs removed the booties and they went into an evidence bag for later examination. Occasionally key evidence was picked up from places the crime scene investigators had trod. Then the gloves came off and she blew on her hands to dry the sweat.

Sachs walked to the front of the CSU bus and spoke to the tech who was behind the wheel. She was a tall woman with mahogany-colored skin and an elaborate tattoo of an iguana on her forearm, now concealed under her jacket.

“Izzy, need you to do something for me.”

“And that tone tells me there’s something shady going on.” She was amused.

“Shady might be an overstatement. Can we go with hazy?”

“I can live with hazy. What d’you have in mind, Amelia?”

“There are going to be people at OnePP who want that evidence to get to the lab quick as a lick.”

“What my grams used to say.”

Sachs was frowning. “I may’ve heard there’re some traffic jams—accidents, maybe. Everything’s slowed up. That tunnel—it’s always dicey. And the Fifty-Ninth Street Bridge? Forget it.”

Izzy said, “So what you’re saying is it might be better for me to take a different way?”

“Only a thought.”

The tech said, frowning, “Maybe the Triborough. I could go north in Manhattan, cross the bridge, then south to Queens. Maybe take Central Park West.”

“That’s an idea. And you know Mel Cooper’s visiting Lincoln Rhyme at the moment. You could say hi.”

“Mel is a dear. And that man candance!”

“You might even show Mel what you’ve got.” She nodded at the cartons. “You know, he’s working the case. Give him a preview.”

Cooper’s name, not Rhyme’s, would go on the chain-of-custody card. One could assume that the technician had examined the evidence in the Queens lab, not Rhyme’s parlor.

Sachs grew serious. “You know there are people who’ve threatened to reprimand anybody who helps Lincoln on a case.”

“Rodriguez.” She scowled. “Always thought he was a stand-up man. But now he comes on with ‘nobody’s supposed to work with Lincoln.’ Lord, you know, Lincoln Rhyme is thewholereason I went into crime scene work.” The woman’s broad face blossomed with a coy smile. “I’ll be on my way now. Ah, all that traffic. The Queensboro, the tunnel.”

“That tunnel can be a bitch.”

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