If the Stantons were curious as to how Rhyme had figured out they were the associates of the unsub and that this was their hotel, they didn’t express any desire to learn the answer. And that answer was almost embarrassingly mundane, involving no subtle analysis of the evidence whatsoever. Unsub 11-5’s backpack, recovered beside his body near the water main pipe, contained a notebook called The Modification, a detailed list of steps in the plot to get poison into the New York drinking water. Inside that was a slip of paper with the address of the hotel. They knew the Stantons were staying there; Harriet had told Sachs this fact. So the couple and the unsub knew each other. The ‘attack’ at the hospital wasn’t that at all. The unsub had probably gone there to visit his ailing colleague, Matthew Stanton, in the hospital’s cardiac care ward.

On reflection, there were clues they’d discovered that might have led to the conclusion that the Stantons were connected. For instance, the writing on the bag at the Belvedere holding the implants said No. 3, suggesting that the attack on Braden Alexander was the third one. But if the assault on Harriet Stanton had been legitimate, the bag notation would have read No. 4.

Similarly, they’d found trace evidence of Harriet’s cosmetics in places where the unsub had been. Yes, he’d grabbed her in the hospital and there might have been some transfer of the substance, but it would have been minimal. More likely he’d picked the trace up by spending time in her company. Also, Rhyme recalled the back and forth of the bootied footprints at the crime scenes; that suggested that an accomplice had brought the lights and batteries in after the tattoo killings. A check with the hotel here revealed that the Stantons had been accompanied by their son, Josh, a young, muscular man who could easily have carted the heavy equipment in after his cousin had finished his lethal inking.

But sometimes fate short-circuits.

A slip of damn paper with an address – found in the perp’s possession.

‘You know your rights?’ Sachs asked.

The officer behind Harriet Stanton nodded.

His long face pale and with a matte texture, Matthew Stanton said, ‘We don’t recognize any rights. The government has no authority to grant us anything.’

‘Then,’ Rhyme countered, ‘you won’t have any problem talking to us.’ He thought this logic was impeccable. ‘The only thing we need at this point is the ID of your colleague. The one with the poison.’

Harriet’s face brightened. ‘So he got away.’

Rhyme and Sachs shared a glance. ‘Got away?’ Rhyme asked.

‘No, he didn’t escape,’ Sachs told the Stantons. ‘But he didn’t have any ID on him and his fingerprints came back negative. We’re hoping you’ll cooperate and—’

Her smile vanished. ‘But then you arrested him?’