Jeffery Deaver - The Cold Moon

"Sure."

"Could you show Vincent the footprint we found?"

Sachs rose and got the electrostatic image. She held it up for Vincent to look at.

"What about it?" he asked.

"That's your size shoe, isn't it?"

"About."

She continued to stare at him, saying nothing. Rhyme sensed she was setting up a brilliant trap. He watched them both closely…

"Thanks," Dance said to Sachs, who sat down again.

The agent eased forward, slightly more into the suspect's personal space. "Vincent, I'm curious. Where'd you get the groceries?"

A brief hesitation. "Well, at the Food Emporium."

Rhyme finally understood. She was going to draw him out about the groceries and then ask him why he'd bought them in Manhattan if he lived in New Jersey-since everything in the cart would be available closer to home and probably cheaper. She leaned forward, pulling off her glasses.

Now-she was going to snare him.

Kathryn Dance smiled and said, "Thank you, Vincent. I think that'll be it. Hey, you thirsty?" the agent added. "Want a soda?"

Vincent nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

Dance glanced at Rhyme. "Could we get him something?"

Rhyme blinked and shot a perplexed look at Sachs, who was frowning. What the hell was Dance thinking? She hadn't gotten a single bit of information out of him. The criminalist was thinking, A waste of time. That's all she's going to ask him? And now she's playing hostess? Reluctantly Rhyme called Thom, who brought Dance a Coke.

Dance put a straw in and held it up for the handcuffed man to drink from. He drained the glass in seconds.

"Vincent, just give us a few minutes alone, if you don't mind, and I think we'll get this all straightened out."

"Okay. Sure."

The patrol officers escorted him out. Dance shut the door behind him. Dennis Baker shook his head, staring unhappily at the agent. Sellitto muttered, "Worthless."

Dance frowned. "No, no, we're doing fine."

"We are?" Rhyme asked.

"Right on track…Now, here's the situation. I got his baseline readings and then asked him about the reverse order of events-it's a good way to catch up deceptive subjects who've been improvising. People can describe an actual series of past events in any order-from start to finish or backward-without a problem. But people fabricate events in only one direction, start to finish. When they try to reconstruct it backward, they don't have the cues that they used in creating the scenario and they trip up. So, I learned right up front that he's the Watchmaker's assistant."

"You did?" Sellitto laughed.

"Oh, that was obvious. His recognition responses were off the charts. And he's not afraid for his personal safety, like he claimed. No, he knows the Watchmaker and he's been involved in the crimes but in a way that I can't figure out. More than just a getaway driver."

"But you didn't ask him about any of that," Baker pointed out. "Shouldn't we be picking apart where he said he was at the times of the attacks at the florist shop and the apartment in Greenwich Village?"

Rhyme's observation, too.

"Oh, no. Worst thing to do. If I did, those are the subjects he'd stonewall on instantly." She continued. "He's a complicated person, there's a lot of conflict going on inside him, and my feeling is that he's in the second state of stress response, depression. That's essentially anger turned inward. And it's very difficult to break through. Given his personality type, I'd need to create a sympathetic bond between us and it would take days, maybe weeks, to get to the truth with traditional interrogation methods. But we don't have days. Our only chance is to try something radical."

"What?"

Dance nodded at the straw Vincent had used. "Can you order a DNA test?" she asked Rhyme.

"Yes. But it'll take some time."

"That's okay, as long as we can say truthfully it's been ordered." She smiled. "Never lie. But you don't have to tell a suspect everything."

Rhyme wheeled around to the main portion of the lab, where Mel Cooper and Pulaski were still working on the evidence. He explained what they needed and Cooper packaged the straw in plastic and filled out a DNA analysis request. "There. Technically it's been ordered. The lab just doesn't know it yet." He laughed.

Dance explained: "There's something big he's keeping from me. He's very nervous about it. His response to my question about being arrested was deceptive but it's also very rehearsed. I think he was collared but it was a while ago. There're no prints on file so he fell through the cracks-maybe a lab screwup, maybe he was a juvenile. But I know he's run into the law before. And I finally got a sense of what it might be. That's why I took my jacket off and had Amelia walk around in front of him. He's eating up the two of us with his eyes. Trying not to but he can't help it. That makes me think there's a sexual assault or two in his past. I want to bluff and use that against him.

"The problem is," she continued, "that he could call me on it. Then we lose our bargaining power and it'll take a long time to grind him down and get anything helpful."

Sellitto said to Rhyme, "I know where you come down on it."

Hell, yes, Rhyme thought. "Take the chance."

Sellitto asked, "And you, Dennis?"

"I oughta call downtown. But we'd be kicking ourselves if they say no. Go ahead and do it."

The agent said, "One other thing I need to do. I have to take myself out of the equation. Whatever he had planned with me in the alley, we have to let it go. If I bring it up it'll move the relationship to a different place and he's going to stop talking to me; we'll have to start over again."

"But you know what he was going to do to you?" Sachs asked.

"Oh, I know exactly what he had in mind. But we have to stay focused on our goal-finding the Watchmaker. Sometimes you just have to let other things slide."

Sellitto looked at Baker and nodded.

The agent walked to the closest computer and typed some commands, then a user name and pass code. She squinted when the website appeared and typed in some more commands. A page of some suspect's DNA rolled onto the screen.

Dance opened her purse and replaced the sheep glasses with the wolf ones. "Now it's time for the fun part." She walked to the door and opened it, asked that Vincent be brought back.

The big man, sweat stains under his arms, lumbered back into the room and sat down in the chair, which groaned under his weight. He was cautious.

Dance broke the silence with, "I'm afraid we've got a problem, Vincent."

His eyes narrowed.

Dance held up the plastic evidence bag containing the straw he'd drunk from. "You know about DNA, don't you?"

"What're you talking about?"

Rhyme wondered, Is it going to work? Will he fall for it?

Was Vincent going to end the interview, clam up and insist on an attorney? He had every right to do that. The bluff would end in disaster and they might never get any information from him until after the Watchmaker had killed his next victim.

Calmly Dance asked, "You ever seen your DNA analysis, Vincent?"

Dance turned the computer monitor toward Vincent. "I don't know if you're aware of the FBI's Combined DNA Index System. We call it CODIS. Whenever there's a rape or sexual assault and the perp isn't caught, his fluids, skin and hair are collected. Even with a condom, there's usually some material left on or near the victim with DNA in it. The profile is stored and when police get a suspect, his profile is matched against what's in the forensic index. Take a look."

Beneath the heading CODIS were dozens of lines of numbers, letters, grids and fuzzy bars virtually incomprehensible to anyone unfamiliar with the system.

The man was completely still, though his breathing was heavy. His eyes, to Rhyme, seemed defiant. "This's bullshit."