The Bone Collector (Lincoln Rhyme 1)

"But interesting . . . they said they get calls from the police all the time about their products and you're the first one who's ever thought of tracing a lock through the combination."

"How 'interesting' can it be if it's a dead end?" Rhyme grumbled and turned to Mel Cooper, who was shaking his head as he stared at the GC-MS computer. "What?"

"Got that soil sample result. But I'm afraid the machine might be on the fritz. The nitrogen's off the charts. We should run it again, use more sample this time."

Rhyme instructed him to go ahead. His eyes turned back to the bone. "Mel, how recent was the kill?"

He examined some scrapings under the electron microscope.

"Minimal bacteria clusters. Bambi here was recently deceased, looks like. Or just out of the fridge about eight hours."

"So our perp just bought it," Rhyme said.

"Or a month ago and froze it," Sellitto suggested.

"No," Cooper said. "It hasn't been frozen. There's no evidence of tissue damage from ice crystals. And it hasn't been refrigerated that long. It's not desiccated; modern refrigerators dehydrate food."

"It's a good lead," Rhyme said. "Let's get to work on it."

" 'Get to work'?" Sachs laughed. "Are you saying we call up all the grocery stores in the city and find out who sold veal bones yesterday?"

"No," Rhyme countered. "In the past two days."

"You want the Hardy Boys?"

"Let them keep doing what they're doing. Call Emma, downtown, if she's still working. And if she isn't get her back to the office with the other dispatchers and put them on overtime. Get her a list of every grocery chain in town. I'll bet our boy isn't buying groceries for a family of four so have Emma limit the list to customers buying five items or less."

"Warrants?" Banks asked.

"Anybody balks, we'll get a warrant," Sellitto said. "But let's try without. Who knows? Some citizens might actually cooperate. I'm told it happens."

"But how are the stores going to know who bought veal shanks?" Sachs asked. She was no longer as aloof as she had been. There was an edge in her voice.

Rhyme wondered if her frustration might be a symptom of what he himself had often felt--the burdensome weight of the evidence. The essential problem for the criminalist is not that there's too little evidence but that there's too much.

"Checkout scanners," Rhyme said. "They record purchases on computer. For inventory and restocking. Go ahead, Banks. I see something just crossed your mind. Speak up. I won't send you to Siberia this time."

"Well, only the chains have scanners, sir," the young detective offered. "There're hundreds of independents and butcher shops that don't."

"Good point. But I think he wouldn't go to a small shop. Anonymity's important to him. He'll be doing his buying at big stores. Impersonal."

Sellitto called Communications and explained to Emma what they needed.

"Let's get a polarized shot of the cellophane," Rhyme said to Cooper.

The technician put the minuscule fragment in a polarizing 'scope, then fitted the Polaroid camera to the eyepiece and took a shot. It was a colorful picture, a rainbow with gray streaks through it. Rhyme examined it. This pattern told them nothing by itself but it could be compared with other cello samples to see if they came from a common source.

Rhyme had a thought. "Lon, get a dozen Emergency Service officers over here. On the double."

"Here?" Sellitto asked.

"We're going to put an operation together."

"You're sure about that?" the detective asked.

"Yes! I want them now."

"All right." He nodded to Banks, who made the call to Haumann.