The Skin Collector (Lincoln Rhyme 11)

I

THE OUT-OF-PRINT BOOK

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 5

NOON

CHAPTER 1

The basement.

She had to go to the basement.

Chloe hated it down there.

But they'd sold out of sizes ten and twelve Rue du Cannes - the tacky little floral number with scalloped hemline and plunging front - and she needed to replenish the racks, fill 'em up for the grazers. Chloe was an actress, not a retail fashion expert, and new to the store. So she hadn't fathomed why, in a November impersonating January, these particular dresses were selling out. Until her boss explained that, even though the store was in alternative SoHo in Manhattan, the ZIP codes of the purchasers situated them in Jersey, Westchester and Long Island.

'And?'

'Cruises, Chloe. Cruises.'

'Ah.'

Chloe Moore walked into the back of the store. Here the shop was the opposite of the sales floor and about as chic as a storage unit. She found the key among those dangling from her wrist and unlocked the basement door. She flicked on the lights and studied the unsteady stairs.

A sigh and she started down. The door, on a spring, swung shut behind her. Not a small woman, Chloe took the steps carefully. She was also on Vera Wang knockoffs. Pseudo-designer heels and hundred-year-old architecture can be a dangerous combination.

The basement.

Hated it.

Not that she worried about intruders. There was only one door in and out - the one she'd just come through. But the place was moldy, damp, cold ... and booby-trapped with cobwebs.

Which meant sly, predatory spiders.

And Chloe knew she'd need a dog roller to remove the dust from the dark-green skirt and black blouse (Le Bordeaux and La Seine).

She stepped onto the uneven, cracked concrete floor, moving to the left to avoid a big web. But another one got her; a long clinging strand clutched her face, tickling. After a comic dance of trying to brush the damn thing off and not fall over, she continued her search. Five minutes later she found the shipments of Rue du Cannes, which may have looked French and sounded French but came in boxes printed largely with Chinese characters.

As she tugged the cartons off the shelf Chloe heard a scrape.

She froze. Tilted her head.

The sound didn't repeat. But then she was aware of another noise.

Drip, drip, drip.