“Ah, some hard information.” Rhyme glanced darkly at Pulaski. “A shame the victim had to find the evidence, don’t you think? That really is in our job description.” He turned toward Lucy. “The rope’s still there?”

“Yes.”

“Good . . . You in town for a while?” Rhyme asked. “If we catch him, we might need you to testify at his trial.”

“I’m going back overseas soon. But I’m sure I can come back for a trial. I could get a special leave for that.”

“How long will you be there?”

“I reenlisted for two years.”

“You did?” Sellitto asked.

“I wasn’t going to. It’s tough over there. But I decided to go back.”

“Because of the bomb at the ceremony?”

“No, it was just before that. I was looking at the families and the other soldiers there and thinking it’s funny how life puts you in places you never thought you’d be. But there you are and you’re doing something good and important and, basically, it just feels right. So.” She pulled on her jacket. “If you need me, I’ll get a leave home.”

They said good-bye and Thom saw her out the door.

When he returned Rhyme told the aide, “Add that to the profile. A rock climber or mountaineer, possibly European trained.” To Pulaski, Rhyme said, “And have somebody from the CS Unit go collect the rope that you missed in the first place—”

“Actually, I wasn’t really the one who searched—”

“—and then find a climbing expert. I want to know where he might’ve trained. And run the rope too. Where’d he buy it and when?”

“Yessir.”

Fifteen minutes later the doorbell rang again and Thom returned with Kathryn Dance. The white iPod earbuds dangling over her shoulders, she greeted everyone. She was holding a white, eight-and-a-half-by-eleven envelope.

“Hi,” said Pulaski.

Rhyme lifted an eyebrow in greeting.

“I’m on my way to the airport,” Dance explained. “Just wanted to say good-bye. Oh, this was on the doorstep.”

She handed the envelope to Thom.

The aide glanced at it. “No return address.” Frowning.

“Let’s be safe,” Rhyme said. “The basket.”

Sellitto took the envelope and walked to a large bin that was made out of woven steel strips—like a wicker laundry hamper. He set the envelope inside and clamped the lid shut. As a matter of course, any unidentified packages went into the bomb basket, which was designed to diffuse the force of a small-to-medium-sized improvised explosive device. It contained sensors that would pick up any trace of nitrates and other common explosives.

The computer sniffed the vapors emanating from the envelope and reported that it wasn’t a bomb.

Wearing latex gloves, Cooper retrieved and examined it. The envelope bore a computer-generated label, reading only, Lincoln Rhyme.