Page 103 of The Watchmaker's Hand

“They’d be idiots to let you go. Look what you did at that scene yesterday. Getting that lead on the bomber. The task force must’ve been in heaven.”

Over the moon …

“There’s politics, there’s optics.”

“How did the interview go?”

A shrug. “The IA cop, he was decent. Didn’t go half as bad as I thought it would.”

Thinking back to the half hour with Garner.

And staring out the window.

She walked close and put her arms around him, her head against his chest. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it.”

Ron resisted the gravitational tug to look toward the mantel above the fireplace.

“We’re ready.” Brad’s voice.

“Daddy, what do you want to be? I’m the cat and Brad’s the mailman.”

He called, “I’ll be the fire hydrant.”

“That’s gross.”

Nobody wanted to be the hydrant in Dog-opoly, but Ron couldn’t think of the other pieces.

And then he paused, looking out the window once again.

“What is it?” Jenny was looking at his focused eyes.

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right in. Have to make a call.”

As Jenny took a half gallon of ice cream from the freezer, Ron stepped outside onto the back porch.

Pulling out his phone, he looked up a contact number and placed a call.

“Hey, Ron,” Lyle Spencer said. “How’re you doing? I heard. Man, I’m sorry about what happened.”

“I’m okay. Thanks. Listen, can you spare a few minutes now?”

“For you, absolutely.”

46.

AMELIA SACHS HANDEDhis ID back.

The man in the homeless garb was indeed Willis Tamblyn.

Now that she could look past the costume and smudged face, it was clear that he was the man in the DMV picture Rhyme had sent.

Tamblyn was worth, she recalled, about $29 billion—though that was according to a Google search anyway, so who really knew? He had been a real estate developer in New York City and New Jersey all his professional life. He’d been born poor. In the press about him, the word “bootstrap” appeared frequently. And once or twice the phrase “with a conscience” in such a way that the reporter penning the story seemed surprised to be including it in the same sentence with “real estate developer.”

Nearby was Bo Haumann and one of the ESU tactical teams. The threat assessment was low, but low wasn’t nonexistent.

Tamblyn’s driver checked out too. He was a former NYPD officer, who’d tripled his salary—and maybe extended his life span—by going private. He had no record and the concealed-carry for his weapon was in order.

“We found evidence that links you to the first crane collapse.”

---