The Broken Window (Lincoln Rhyme 8)

"That's it."

"Okay, get out of there, rookie," Rhyme urged.

Pulaski hung up, unplugged the hard drive and slipped it back into his pocket, then logged off. He rose and walked outside, blinking in surprise to see that the security guard had moved closer. Pulaski realized he was the same one who'd escorted Amelia through the data pens, walking just behind her--as if he were taking a shoplifter to a store manager's office to await the police.

Had the man seen anything?

"Officer Pulaski. I'll take you back to Andrew's office." His face was unsmiling and his eyes didn't reveal a thing. He led the officer up the hall. With every step the hard drive chafed against his leg and felt as if it were red hot. More glances at the ceiling. It was acoustic tile; he couldn't see any damn cameras.

Paranoia filled the halls, brighter than the stark white lighting.

When they arrived Sterling waved him into the office, turning over several sheets of paper he was working on. "Officer, you got what you needed?"

"I did, yes." Pulaski held up the client list CD like a kid at show-and-tell in school.

"Ah, good." The CEO's bright green eyes looked him over. "And how's the investigation going?"

"It's going okay." These were the first words that came to Pulaski's mind. He felt like an idiot. What would Amelia Sachs have said? He had no clue.

"Is it now? Anything helpful in the client list?"

"I just looked through it to make sure we could read it okay. We'll go over it back at the lab."

"The lab. In Queens? Is that where you're based?"

"We do work there, a few other places too."

Sterling gave no response to Pulaski's evasion, just smiled pleasantly. The CEO was about four or five inches shorter but the young officer felt he was the one looking up. Sterling walked with him into the outer office. "Well, if there's anything else, just let us know. We're one hundred percent behind you."

"Thanks."

"Martin, make those arrangements we talked about earlier. Then take Officer Pulaski downstairs."

"Oh, I can find my way."

"He'll show you out. You have a good night." Sterling returned to his office. The door closed.

"I'll just be a few minutes," Martin said to the policeman and picked up the phone and turned slightly, out of earshot.

Pulaski strolled to the door and looked up and down the hall. A figure emerged from an office. He was speaking in hushed tones on his mobile. Apparently in this part of the building cell phones worked fine. He squinted at Pulaski, said a brief farewell and flipped the phone shut.

"Excuse me, Officer Pulaski?"

He nodded.

"I'm Andy Sterling."

Sure, Mr. Sterling's son.

The young man's dark eyes confidently looked right into Pulaski's, though his handshake seemed tentative. "I think you called me. And my father left a message that I was supposed to talk to you."

"Yeah, that's right. You have a minute?"

"What do you need to know?"

"We're checking into certain people's whereabouts on Sunday afternoon."

"I went hiking up in Westchester. I drove up there about noon and got back--"