what had prevented her from pushing it up. But, no, it was impossible to move with her one free hand.
Shit.
‘Sachs?’
‘Go ahead.’
Rhyme said, ‘An officer sawsomebody at the manhole in a short dark-gray coat, stocking cap. He took off running. Disappeared into the crowd on Broadway. White male. Slim or medium build.’
‘Damn it!’ she muttered. ‘It was him! Why run otherwise? Have somebody pop the cover, Rhyme!’
‘Look, there’re plenty of people after him. Keep walking the grid. That’s our priority.’
Heart racing, she shoved a palm into the manholecover once more. Convinced, unreasonably, that if she could get to the surface she could find him, even if the others couldn’t.
She pictured his eye. She saw the narrowing lid.
She believed the perp was laughing at her, taunting her because she hadn’t been able to open the cover.
What color was the iris? she wondered. Green, gray, hazel? She hadn’t thought to register the color. This lapseinfuriated her.
‘One thing occurs to me.’ Rhyme brought her back to earth.
‘What’s that?’
‘We know that’s how he got into the tunnel – through the manhole. And that means he’d’ve rigged a work zone. He’d have cones and tape or a barricade of some kind. And that might show up on video.’
‘Or a witness might’ve seen.’
‘Well. Yes, maybe. For what
that’s
worth.’
Sachs climbed back down the ladderand returned to the victim. She had done a fast sex-crime exam of Chloe’s body but now wanded it with the ALS to look for traces of the three S’s present in most sexual assault cases – semen, sweat and saliva.
Negative on that but it was clear he’d probed her skin with his gloved fingers – or at least the abdomen, arms, neck and face. No other parts of the body appeared to have been touched.
She used the light on the rest of the scene – from the manhole to the breadbasket – and found nothing.
All that remained for her was removing the flashlight that the unsub had left as a beacon.
‘Sachs,’ Rhyme called.
‘Yeah?’
‘Why don’t we have city workers pop the manhole and you come out that way? You’ll have to search that area on the street anyway. We know that’s how he got in – and he wasthere about five minutes ago. Could have some trace.’
But she knew he was suggesting this so she could avoid the smaller of the two tunnels.
The circular coffin …
Sachs glanced at the black maw. It seemed even smaller now. ‘It’s a thought, Rhyme. But I think I’ll go out the way I came in.’
She’d beaten the fear once; she wasn’t going to let it win now.
Using a rough ledge on the brick wallto support her weight, she stepped up and boosted herself to within reach of the unsub’s flashlight. She took the surgical scissors from her pocket and cut the tape.
Pulling it down, she dislodged a handful of grayish powder, which she suddenly realized the perp had set as a trap for the crime scene officers. That’s why he’d left the light! The material poured straight into her eyes and, desperatelybrushing it away, she dislodged the N95 respirator and inhaled a good amount of the toxin.
‘No!’
Choking, choking, drowning on the stinging powder. Instantly the fierce burn began. She fell to the ground and stumbled back, nearly tripping over Chloe’s body.
Rhyme’s voice was in her ear. ‘Sachs! What was that? I couldn’t see.’
She struggled to inhale, to clear the poison from her lungs. Thebarbed hooks scorched her windpipe and eyes and nose. She ripped off the face mask, spitting, aware that she was contaminating the scene but she was unable to stop.
Rhyme was shouting. It was hard for her to hear but she believed he was calling, probably into his phone, ‘Medics down there! Now!’ And ‘I don’t care.’ And ‘Poison control. Fast.’
But then she heard nothing more than the chokingthat consumed her.
CHAPTER 7
Making his way back to his workshop off Canal Street, west of Chinatown, Billy
Shit.
‘Sachs?’
‘Go ahead.’
Rhyme said, ‘An officer sawsomebody at the manhole in a short dark-gray coat, stocking cap. He took off running. Disappeared into the crowd on Broadway. White male. Slim or medium build.’
‘Damn it!’ she muttered. ‘It was him! Why run otherwise? Have somebody pop the cover, Rhyme!’
‘Look, there’re plenty of people after him. Keep walking the grid. That’s our priority.’
Heart racing, she shoved a palm into the manholecover once more. Convinced, unreasonably, that if she could get to the surface she could find him, even if the others couldn’t.
She pictured his eye. She saw the narrowing lid.
She believed the perp was laughing at her, taunting her because she hadn’t been able to open the cover.
What color was the iris? she wondered. Green, gray, hazel? She hadn’t thought to register the color. This lapseinfuriated her.
‘One thing occurs to me.’ Rhyme brought her back to earth.
‘What’s that?’
‘We know that’s how he got into the tunnel – through the manhole. And that means he’d’ve rigged a work zone. He’d have cones and tape or a barricade of some kind. And that might show up on video.’
‘Or a witness might’ve seen.’
‘Well. Yes, maybe. For what
that’s
worth.’
Sachs climbed back down the ladderand returned to the victim. She had done a fast sex-crime exam of Chloe’s body but now wanded it with the ALS to look for traces of the three S’s present in most sexual assault cases – semen, sweat and saliva.
Negative on that but it was clear he’d probed her skin with his gloved fingers – or at least the abdomen, arms, neck and face. No other parts of the body appeared to have been touched.
She used the light on the rest of the scene – from the manhole to the breadbasket – and found nothing.
All that remained for her was removing the flashlight that the unsub had left as a beacon.
‘Sachs,’ Rhyme called.
‘Yeah?’
‘Why don’t we have city workers pop the manhole and you come out that way? You’ll have to search that area on the street anyway. We know that’s how he got in – and he wasthere about five minutes ago. Could have some trace.’
But she knew he was suggesting this so she could avoid the smaller of the two tunnels.
The circular coffin …
Sachs glanced at the black maw. It seemed even smaller now. ‘It’s a thought, Rhyme. But I think I’ll go out the way I came in.’
She’d beaten the fear once; she wasn’t going to let it win now.
Using a rough ledge on the brick wallto support her weight, she stepped up and boosted herself to within reach of the unsub’s flashlight. She took the surgical scissors from her pocket and cut the tape.
Pulling it down, she dislodged a handful of grayish powder, which she suddenly realized the perp had set as a trap for the crime scene officers. That’s why he’d left the light! The material poured straight into her eyes and, desperatelybrushing it away, she dislodged the N95 respirator and inhaled a good amount of the toxin.
‘No!’
Choking, choking, drowning on the stinging powder. Instantly the fierce burn began. She fell to the ground and stumbled back, nearly tripping over Chloe’s body.
Rhyme’s voice was in her ear. ‘Sachs! What was that? I couldn’t see.’
She struggled to inhale, to clear the poison from her lungs. Thebarbed hooks scorched her windpipe and eyes and nose. She ripped off the face mask, spitting, aware that she was contaminating the scene but she was unable to stop.
Rhyme was shouting. It was hard for her to hear but she believed he was calling, probably into his phone, ‘Medics down there! Now!’ And ‘I don’t care.’ And ‘Poison control. Fast.’
But then she heard nothing more than the chokingthat consumed her.
CHAPTER 7
Making his way back to his workshop off Canal Street, west of Chinatown, Billy
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