The Broken Window (Lincoln Rhyme 8)

Alibi for groundskeeper's killing (in office, according to time sheets) Client of SSD (?)

Awaiting list from NYPD Computer Crimes Unit UNSUB recruited by Andrew Sterling (?) But was 522 one of them at all? Rhyme wondered once again. He thought of what Sachs had told him about the concept of "noise" in data mining. Were these names just noise? Distractions, keeping them from the truth?

Rhyme executed a smart turn on the TDX and again faced the whiteboards. Something nagged. What was it?

"Lincoln--"

"Shh."

Something he'd read, or heard about. No, a case--from years ago. Hovering just out of memory. Frustrating. Like trying to scratch an itch on his ear.

He was aware of Cooper looking at him. That irritated too. He closed his eyes.

Almost . . .

Yes!

"What is it?"

Apparently he'd spoken out loud.

"I think I've got it. Thom, you follow popular culture, don't you?"

"What on earth does that mean?"

"You read magazines, newspapers. Look at ads. Are Tareyton cigarettes still made?"

"I don't smoke. I've never smoked."

"I'd rather fight than switch," Lon Sellitto announced.

"What?"

"That was the ad in the sixties. People with a black eye?"

"Don't recall it."

"My dad used to smoke 'em."

"Are they still made? That's what I'm asking."

"I don't know. But you don't see 'em much."

"Exactly. And the other tobacco we found was old too. So whether or not he smokes, it's a reasonable assumption he collects cigarettes."

"Cigarettes. What kind of collector is that?"

"No, not just cigarettes. The old soda with the artificial sweetener. Maybe cans or bottles. And mothballs, matches, doll's hair. And the mold, the Stachybotrys Chartarum, the dust from the Trade Towers. I don't think it's that he's downtown. I think he just hasn't cleaned in years. . . ." A grim laugh. "And what other collection have we been dealing with lately? Data. Five Twenty-Two's obsessed with collecting. . . . I think he's a hoarder."

"A what?"

"He hoards things. He never throws anything away. That's why there's so much 'old.' "

"Yeah, I think I've heard of that," Sellitto said. "It's weird. Creepy."

Rhyme had once searched a scene where a compulsive hoarder had died, crushed to death under a pile of books--well, he was immobilized and took two days to die of internal injuries. Rhyme described the cause of death as "unpleasant." He hadn't studied the condition much but he'd learned that New York had a task force to help hoarders get therapeutic assistance and protect them and their neighbors from their compulsive behavior.

"Let's give our resident shrink a call."