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.

To pursue him, Rhyme had recruited Sachs to be his eyes and ears and legs at the crime scenes and together they’d managed to rescue both the woman and her daughter—only to learn that Carol was really Charlotte Willoughby. She was part of a right-wing militia movement, which abhorred the federal government and its involvement in world affairs. After their rescue and reunion, the woman managed to slip a bomb into the United Nations headquarters in Manhattan. The explosion killed six people.

Rhyme and Sachs had taken up the case but Charlotte and the girl disappeared into the movement’s underground, probably in the Midwest or West, and eventually the trail went cold.

From time to time they would check out FBI, VICAP and local police reports with a militia or right-wing political angle but no leads to Charlotte or Pammy panned out. Sachs’s concern for the little girl never diminished, though, and sometimes, lying in bed with Rhyme at night, she’d wonder out loud how the girl was doing, if it was too late to save her. Sachs, who’d always wanted children, was horrified at the kind of life her mother was presumably forcing the girl to live—hiding out, having few friends her age, never going to a regular school—all in the name of some hateful cause.

And now Charlotte—with her new husband, Bud Allerton—had returned to the city on yet another mission of terrorism, and Rhyme and Sachs had become entwined in their lives once again.

Charlotte now glared at Rhyme, her eyes filled with both tears and hatred. “You murdered Bud! You goddamn fascists! You killed him.” The prisoner then gave a cold laugh. “But we won! How many did we kill tonight? Fifty people. Seventy-five? And how many senior people in the Pentagon?”

Sachs leaned close to her face. “Did you know there’d be children in that conference room? Husbands and wives of the soldiers? Their parents? Grandparents? Did you know that?”

“Of course we knew it,” Charlotte said.

“They were just sacrifices too, is that right?”

“For the greater good,” Charlotte replied.

Which was maybe a slogan she and her group recited at the beginning of their rallies, or whatever meetings they had.

Rhyme caught Sachs’s eye. He said, “Maybe we should show her the carnage.”

Sachs nodded and clicked on the TV.