Rhyme’s caregiver rounded the corner. He was carrying a pot of fresh coffee. The criminalist introduced the man. He noted that Nance Laurel’s made-up façade stirred briefly as she looked at Thom. An unmistakable focus was in her eyes, though as good looking and charming as he was, Thom Reston was not a romantic option for the woman—who wore no heart-finger rings. But a moment later Rhyme concluded her reaction arose not from attraction to the aide himself but because he resembled somebody she knew or had known closely.

Finally looking away from the young man, Laurel declined coffee, as if it were some ethics breach to indulge on the job. She was digging in her litigation bag, whose contents were perfectly organized. Folder tabs were color-coded and he noted two computers, whose eyes pulsed orange in their state of hibernation. She extracted a document.

“Now,” she said, looking up, “do you want to see the kill order?”

Who could say no to that?

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

OF COURSE THEY DON’T CALL IT THAT, a kill order,” Nance Laurel assured. “That’s shorthand. The term is ‘STO,’ a Special Task Order.”

“Almost sounds worse,” Lon Sellitto said. “Kind of sanitized, you know. Creepy.”

Rhyme agreed.

Laurel handed Sachs three sheets of paper. “If you could tape them up, so we could all see them?”

Sachs hesitated and then did as the prosecutor requested.

Laurel tapped the first. “Here’s the email that came to our office last Thursday, the eleventh.”

Check the news about Robert Moreno. This is the order behind it. Level Two is the present head of NIOS. His idea to pursue. Moreno was a U.S. citizen. The CD means Collateral Damage. Don Bruns is a code name for the officer who killed him.

—A person with a conscience.

“We’ll see about tracing the email,” Rhyme said. “Rodney.” A glance toward Sachs, who nodded.

She explained to Laurel that they worked with the cybercrimes unit in the NYPD frequently. “I’ll send them a request. Do you have the email in digital form?”

Laurel dug a Baggie containing a flash drive from her briefcase. Rhyme was impressed to see that a chain-of-custody evidence card was attached. She handed it to Sachs, saying, “If you could—”

Just as the detective jotted her name on the card.

Sachs plugged the drive into the side of her computer and began to type.

“You’re going to let them know that security’s a priority.”

Without looking up, Sachs said, “It’s in my first paragraph.” A moment later she sent the request to the CCU.

“Code name sounds familiar,” Sellitto pointed out. “Bruns, Bruns…”

“Maybe the sniper likes country-western music,” Sachs pointed out. “There’s a Don Bruns who’s a songwriter and performer, folk, country-western. Pretty good.”

Laurel cocked her head as if she had never listened to any music, much less something as lively as CW.