Chapters (92)
- Cover
- Also by Jeffery Deaver
- THE SKIN COLLECTOR
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- ITHE OUT-OF-PRINT BOOK
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- IITHE UNDERGROUND MAN
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- IIITHE RED CENTIPEDE
- CHAPTER 32
- CHAPTER 33
- CHAPTER 34
- CHAPTER 35
- CHAPTER 36
- CHAPTER 37
- CHAPTER 38
- CHAPTER 39
- CHAPTER 40
- CHAPTER 41
- CHAPTER 42
- CHAPTER 43
- CHAPTER 44
- CHAPTER 45
- CHAPTER 46
- CHAPTER 47
- CHAPTER 48
- CHAPTER 49
- CHAPTER 50
- IVTHE UNDERGROUND WOMAN
- CHAPTER 51
- CHAPTER 52
- CHAPTER 53
- CHAPTER 54
- CHAPTER 55
- CHAPTER 56
- CHAPTER 57
- CHAPTER 58
- CHAPTER 59
- CHAPTER 60
- CHAPTER 61
- CHAPTER 62
- CHAPTER 63
- CHAPTER 64
- CHAPTER 65
- CHAPTER 66
- CHAPTER 67
- CHAPTER 68
- CHAPTER 69
- CHAPTER 70
- CHAPTER 71
- CHAPTER 72
- CHAPTER 73
- CHAPTER 74
- VREUNION
- CHAPTER 75
- CHAPTER 76
- CHAPTER 77
- CHAPTER 78
- VISKIN AND BONE
- CHAPTER 79
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
On the positive side, though, from the investigators’ perspective, the poison was still sold commercially as a pesticide. Rhyme mentioned this to Sachs and Cooper.
‘I’ll see if we can find any commercial suppliers,’ the tech said. ‘They have to keep records of poison sales.’
Cooper was looking at his computer, though, and frowning. ‘Dozens of sources. Brick-and-mortar stores. And all he’d need is a fake ID to buy some. Pay cash. No trace.’
In the world of forensic science too many options were as bad as too few.
Sachs got a phone call and listened for a moment, then thanked the person on the other end of the line and disconnected. ‘No reported thefts of drugs or other medical equipment or supplies in the area, the last thirty days, except a few stoners or crack-heads knocking over pharmacies; they all got busted. No propofol missing.’
Thom appeared in the doorway.
‘Ah, my, what a stern expression.’
‘Close to midnight, Lincoln You’re going to bed.’
‘Yes, dear, yes, dear.’ Then Rhyme said to Cooper, ‘Be careful, Mel. No reason for him to know you’re working this case but still, be careful. Sachs, text Lon and Pulaski and tell them the same thing.’ A glance at the mass spectrum of the strychnine. ‘We’re targets now. He’s declared war.’
She sent messages to the two officers, then stepped to a clean whiteboard and wrote down the evidence, as well as the information she and Lon Sellitto had learned about the victim.
614 W. 54th Street
-
Victim: Samantha Levine, 32
– Worked for International Fiber Optic Networks
– Probably no connection to Unsub
– No sexual assault, but touching of skin
-
Unsub 11-5
– See details from prior scene
– Might have returned to the scene
No sightings– No friction ridges
– No footprints
-
COD: Poisoning with Brugmansia, introduced via tattooing
– Angel’s trumpet, devil’s breath
– Atropine, hyoscyamine, scopolamine
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Tattoo
– ‘forty’ surrounded by scarring scallops
– Why cardinal number?
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Sedated with propofol
– How obtained? Access to medical supplies? (No local thefts)
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Location
– Abducted from restroom of Provence2 restaurant, basement
– Kill site was underneath restroom, in 19th-century slaughterhouse culling area underground
– Similar infrastructure to earlier scene:
IFON
ConEd router
Metropolitan Transit Authority DC current feed
Department of Environmental Protection pipe -
Flashlight
– Generic, cannot be sourced
-
Handcuffs
– Generic, cannot be sourced
-
Duct tape
– Generic, cannot be sourced
- No trace
-
Purse left as booby trap
– Plastic surgeon’s hypodermic needle
– Strychnine loaded into needle
Can’t locate source
Probably not enough to kill
Rhyme gazed at the entries and then shrugged. ‘It’s as mysterious as the message he’s trying to send.’
Thom said, ‘Witching hour.’
‘Okay, you win.’
Cooper pulled his jacket on and said good night.
‘Sachs?’ Rhyme asked. ‘You coming upstairs?’
She’d turned from the board and was staring out the window at the stark, ice-coated branches bending in the persistent wind.
‘What?’ She hadn’t heard, it seemed.
‘You coming to bed?’
‘I’ll be a few more minutes.’