They were holding him only for possession of an illegal knife and interfering with a police operation—the usual charge when a phony witness comes forward.

Still, a good portion of City Hall and Police Plaza wanted to pull an Abu Ghraib on Vincent and browbeat or threaten him until he squealed. This was Dennis Baker’s preference; the lieutenant had been getting pressure from City Hall to find the perp.

But Kathryn Dance said, “Doesn’t work. They curl up like rolly bugs and give you garbage.” She added, “For the record, torture’s very inefficient at getting accurate information.”

And so Rhyme and Baker had asked her to handle Vincent’s interview. They needed to find the Watchmaker as fast as possible and, if rubber hoses were out, they wanted an expert.

The California special agent now drew the curtains closed and sat down across from Vincent, nothing between them. She scooted the chair forward until she was about three feet away. Rhyme supposed this was to get into his space and help break down his resistance. But he also realized that if Vincent flipped out he could lunge forward and injure her severely with his head or teeth.

She was undoubtedly aware of this too but gave no indication of feeling in danger. She offered a reserved smile and said calmly, “Hello, Vincent. I know you’ve been informed of your rights and you’ve agreed to talk to us. We appreciate that.”

“Absolutely. Anything I can do. This is a big . . .” he shrugged . . . “misunderstanding, you know.”

“Then we’ll get everything straightened out. I just need some basic information first.” She asked his full name, address, age, where he worked, if he’d ever been arrested.

He frowned. “I already told him this.” A look at Sellitto.

“I’m sorry. Left hand, right hand, you know. If you wouldn’t mind going over it again.”

“Oh, all right.”

Rhyme figured that since he was giving her verified facts, she’d be creating a baseline kinesic reading. Now that Kathryn Dance had altered the criminalist’s opinion about interviewing and witnesses, he was intrigued by the process.

Dance nodded pleasantly as she jotted down Vincent’s responses and thanked him from time to time for his cooperation. Her politeness confused Rhyme. He himself would be a hell of a lot tougher.

Vincent grimaced. “Look, I can, you know, talk to you for as long as you want. But I hope you sent somebody to look for that man I saw. You don’t want him to get away. I’m worried about that. I try to help, and look what happens—this’s the story of my life.”

Though what he’d told Dance and the officers on the scene about the suspect wasn’t helpful. The building he claimed the killer disappeared into showed no signs that anyone had been inside recently.

“Now if you could go through the facts once more. Tell me what happened. Only, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like you to tell it to me in reverse order.”