"I'm sorry, Amelia, but you have to do it. We have to see if it's her perfume."
She did, inhaled. Gagged, nearly vomited.
I'm going to pu
ke, she thought. Just like Nick and me that night at Pancho's, done in by those damn frozen daiquiris. Two hard-ass cops, swigging down sissy drinks with blue plastic swordfish swimming in them.
"Do you smell the perfume?"
Here it comes . . . Gagging again.
No. No! She closed her eyes, concentrated on her aching joints. The most painful one--her knee. And, miraculously, the wave of nausea passed. "It's not her perfume."
"Good. So maybe our boy's vain enough to wear a lot of aftershave. That could be a social-class indicator. Or maybe he wants to cover up some other smell he might've left. Garlic, cigars, fish, whisky. We'll have to see. Now, Amelia, listen carefully."
"What?"
"I want you to be him."
Oh. Psychoshit. Just what I need.
"I really don't think we have time for this."
"There's never enough time in crime scene work," Rhyme continued soothingly. "But that doesn't stop us. Just get into his head. You've been thinking the way we think. I want you to think the way he does."
"Well, how do I do that?"
"Use your imagination. That's why God gave us one. Now, you're him. You've got her cuffed and gagged. You take her into the room there. You cuff her to the pipe. You scare her. You're enjoying this."
"How do you know he's enjoying it?"
"You're enjoying it. Not him. How do I know? Because nobody goes to this much trouble to do something they don't enjoy. Now, you know your way around. You've been here before."
"Why d'you think that?"
"You had to check it out earlier--to find a deserted place with a feeder pipe from the steam system. And to get the clues he left by the train tracks."
Sachs was mesmerized by his fluid, low voice. She forgot completely that his body was destroyed. "Oh. Right."
"You take the steam-pipe cover off. What are you thinking?"
"I don't know. That I want to get it over with. Get out."
But the words were hardly out of her mouth before she thought: Wrong. And she wasn't surprised when she heard Rhyme's tongue click in her headset. "Do you really?" he asked.
"No. I want to make it last."
"Yes! I think that's exactly what you want. You're thinking about what the steam will do to her. What else do you feel?"
"I. . ."
A thought formed in her mind, vague. She saw the woman struggling to free herself. Saw something else . . . someone else. Him, she thought. Unsub 823. But what about him? She was close to understanding. What . . . what? But suddenly the thought vanished. Gone.
"I don't know," she whispered.
"Do you feel any urgency? Or are you pretty cool about what you're doing?"
"I'm in a hurry. I have to leave. The cops could be here at any minute. But I still . . ."