“Some mysteries here,” Rhyme said, musing, as he stared at the whiteboards, losing himself in the facts. Half whispering: “Do we like mysteries, rookie?”

“I’d say we do, Lincoln.”

“Ah, right you are. And why?”

“Because they keep us from being, you know, complacent. They make us wonder and when we wonder we discover.”

A smile.

“Now, what do we have, what do we have? First, Unsub Five Sixteen. We’ve got plenty of evidence against him—for the murder of Annette in the Bahamas, the bomb in Java Hut and the murder of Lydia Foster. If—excuse me when—we get his ID we can make a solid case against him for explosives and murder.

“Now, the conspiracy case against Shales and Metzger. We can link them—they both work together at NIOS—and we’ve got Shales’s code name, Don Bruns, on the kill order. All we need now is the last piece of the puzzle: proof that Barry Shales was in the Bahamas on May 9. Once we do we’ve got both of them for conspiracy.”

Whispering to himself as he stared at the boards. “Nothing in the physical evidence placing him there. We can prove the unsub was in the South Cove the day before the shooting but not Shales.” He looked toward Sachs. “How’s the datamining coming—is there anything about Shales’s travel history?”

“I’ll call Information Services.” She picked up her mobile.

We don’t need much, Rhyme reflected. A connection could be inferred by the jury—that’s what circumstantial evidence was all about. But there had to be some basis for a valid inference. A jury can find a man guilty of DUI hit-and-run, even if he’s found sober and denying the next morning, if a bartender testifies that he downed a dozen beers an hour before the accident and the jury takes that testimony as credible.

Vehicle E-ZPass transponders, credit cards, RFID chips in employee badges, subway MetroCards, TSA records, Customs documents, traffic cameras and security cameras in stores…dozens of sources of information could be used to place suspects at scenes.

He noted that Sachs was jotting quick notes. Good. They’d struck gold, he had a feeling.

Something would pin Barry Shales to the Bahamas on May 9.

Sellitto was looking at the chart and he echoed Rhyme’s thought. “There’s gotta be something. We know Shales’s the shooter.”

Amelia Sachs disconnected the call and with an uncharacteristically bewildered expression said, “Actually, Lon, no, he’s not.”

Chapter 59

CHAPTER 59

A HALF HOUR LATER NANCE LAUREL was in Rhyme’s town house.

“Impossible,” she whispered.

Sachs said, “He’s not the sniper. Look for yourself.”