Charlotte would say nothing about the Watchmaker, and a preliminary search of the rooms gave no indication where he might be. Sachs found an envelope containing $250,000 cash, which suggested that he’d be coming here to collect a fee. She radioed Sellitto downstairs and had him clear the street of all emergency vehicles and set up hidden takedown teams.

Rhyme was on his way in his van and Sachs called to tell him to take the back entrance. She then went into the hallway to check on the girl.

“How you doing?”

“Okay, I guess. My face hurts.”

“They took the tape off pretty fast, I’ll bet.”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Thanks for what you did. You saved lives. You saved my life.” The girl gazed at Sachs with a curious look then glanced down. The detective handed her the Harry Potter book she’d found in the bedroom and Sachs asked if the girl knew anything about the man calling himself Gerald Duncan.

“He was creepy. Like, way weird. He’d just look at you like you were a rock or a car or a table. Not a person.”

“You have any idea where he is?”

She shook her head. “All I know is I heard Mom say he was renting a place in Brooklyn somewhere. I don’t know where. He wouldn’t say. But he’s coming by later to pick up some money.”

Sachs pulled Pulaski aside and asked him to check all the calls to and from Charlotte’s and Bud’s mobile phones, as well as the calls from the hotel room phone.

“How ’bout the lobby phone too? The pay phone, I mean. And the ones on the street nearby.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Good idea.”

The rookie headed off on his mission. Sachs got a soda and gave it to the girl. She opened the can and drank down half of it fast. She was looking at Sachs in a strange way. Then she gave a laugh.

Sachs asked, “What?”

“You really don’t remember me, do you? I met you before.”

“Near the alley on Tuesday. Sure.”

“No, no. Like, a long time before that.”

Sachs squinted. She recalled that she had felt some sense of familiarity when she’d seen the girl in the car at the first crime scene in the alley. And she felt it even more strongly now. But she couldn’t place where she might’ve seen the girl prior to Tuesday. “I’m afraid I don’t remember.”

“You saved my life. I was a little girl.”

“A long time . . .” Then Amelia Sachs squinted, turned toward the mother and studied Charlotte more closely. “Oh, my God,” she gasped.

Chapter 40

Inside the shabby hotel room, Lincoln Rhyme shook his head in disbelief as Sachs told him what she’d just learned: that they had known Charlotte some years ago when she’d come to New York using the pseudonym Carol Ganz. She and her daughter, whose name was Pammy, had been victims in the first case Sachs and Rhyme had worked together—the very one he’d been thinking of earlier, the kidnapper obsessed with human bones, a perp as clever and ruthless as the Watchmaker.