The Broken Window (Lincoln Rhyme 8)

Rhyme felt a jolt. He'd almost used her first name. But it was an unspoken rule between them, they used only their last names when referring to the other. Bad luck otherwise. As if the luck could get any worse.

"Linc," said Sellitto, pointing at the board containing the list of suspects. "The only thing I can think of is to check out every one of 'em. Now."

"Well, how do we do that, Lon? We've got an inspector who doesn't even want this case to exist. We can't exactly . . ." His voice faded as his eyes settled on the profile of 522 and then the evidence charts.

His cousin's dossier too, on the turning frame nearby.

Lifestyle

Dossier 1A. Consumer products preferences

Dossier 1B. Consumer services preferences

Dossier 1C. Travel

Dossier 1D. Medical

Dossier 1E. Leisure-time preferences

Financial/Educational/Professional

Dossier 2A. Educational history

Dossier 2B. Employment history, w/income

Dossier 2C. Credit history/current report and rating

Dossier 2D. Business products and services preferences

Governmental/Legal Dossier 3A. Vital records

Dossier 3B. Voter registration

Dossier 3C. Legal history

Dossier 3D. Criminal history

Dossier 3E. Compliance

Dossier 3F. Immigration and naturalization

Rhyme read through the document several times quickly. Then he looked at other documents taped up on the evidence boards. Something wasn't right.

He called Szarnek back. "Rodney, tell me: How much storage space on a hard drive does a thirty-page document take up? Like that SSD dossier I have here."

"Heh. A dossier? Text only, I assume."

"Yes."

"It'd be in a database so it'd be compressed . . . Make it twenty-five K, tops."

"That's pretty small, right?"

"Heh. A fart in the hurricane of data storage."

Rhyme rolled his eyes at the response. "I've got one more question for you."

"Heh. Shoot."