Perp:

• Watchmaker:

• Name is Gerald Duncan.

• Businessman from “the Midwest,” specifics unknown.

• Wife died in NY; he’s murdering for revenge.

• Armed with pistol and box cutter.

• His phone can’t be traced.

• Collects old clocks and watches.

• Searching watchmakers and horologic organizations.

• No immediate hits.

• No info from Interpol or criminal information databases.

• Assistant:

• Vincent Reynolds.

• Temp employee.

• Lives in New Jersey.

• History of sexual assaults.

Evidence:

• Five additional clocks, identical to others. One missing.

• In Vincent’s room:

• Junk food, sodas.

• Condoms.

• Duct tape.

• Rags (gags?).

• In Duncan’s room:

• Horological magazines.

• Tools.

• Clothes.

• Programs from Tampa and Boston art museums.

• Additional duct tape.

• Old broom with dirt, sand and salt.

• Three Bic pens.

• Coins.

• Receipt from parking garage, downtown.

• Receipt from drugstore on Upper West Side.

• Book of matches from restaurant on Upper East Side.

• Shoes with bright green paint.

• Empty gallon jug of alcohol.

• Pet hair roller.

• Beige gloves.

• No fingerprints.

• Fire extinguisher residue.

• Empty box that contained fire extinguisher.

• Extinguisher to be alcohol incendiary device?

Other:

• Murdered a student near the church, was a witness.

• Local precinct is checking.

• Vehicle is a stolen, dark blue Buick.

• Murdered driver.

• Searching—carjackings, homicides, missing persons.

• Emergency Vehicle Locator ordered; no hits yet.

Sarah Stanton walked quickly over the frozen sidewalk back to the Midtown office building where she worked, clutching her Starbucks latte and a chocolate chip cookie—a guilty pleasure, but a reward for what would be a long day at the office.

Not that she needed a tasty incentive to get back to her workstation; she loved her job. Sarah was an estimator for a large flooring and interior design company. The mother of an eight-year-old, she’d gone back to work a few years earlier than planned, thanks to a tough divorce. She’d started as a receptionist and moved her way up quickly to become the head estimator for the company.

The work was demanding, a lot of numbers—but the company was good and she liked the people she worked with (well, most of them). And she had flexibility with her hours, since she was in the field a lot, meeting with clients. This was important because she had to get her son dressed and ready for school, then escort him all the way to Ninety-fifth Street by 9 A.M. and then head back to Midtown for her job, the timetable subject always to the whims of the Metropolitan Transit Authority. Today she would work more than ten hours; tomorrow, she was taking off entirely to go Christmas shopping with her boy.

Sarah swiped her entry card and pushed through the back door of the building, then performed her afternoon workout routine—walking up the stairs to her office rather than use the elevator. The company took up all of the third floor but her workstation was in a smaller office, which occupied only a portion of the second floor. This office was quiet, housing only four employees, but Sarah preferred that. The bosses rarely came down here and she could get her work done without interruption.