'Canwe put him under surveillance?' Jessica asked.

    Westbrookwalked back to her office, returned. She had looked at the duty roster. 'Idon't have a single warm body available. There may be someone on last-outtonight. I'll talk to the watch commander and see what I can do.'

    Anythingcould happen between now and then, Jessica thought. Still, it was what itwas.

    'Cuthim loose,' Westbrook said.

    A fewminutes later Jessica and Byrne stood in the duty room, watching Novak sauntertoward the hallway that led to the elevators.

    BeforeNovak rounded the corner he stopped, as if he'd forgotten something. A fewseconds later he spun on his heels, walked briskly back, heading directly forJessica and Byrne.

    Whatthe hell is this? Jessica wondered.

Chapter 34

    AsNovak approached, Byrne watched the man's hands. It was a habit he'd acquiredas a rookie and he'd never forgotten it. Watch the hands, watch the man.

    Novakstopped in front of them. He did not look at Jessica, just at Byrne.

    'Ijust wanted to say I harbor no hard feelings,' Novak said.

    Thisisn't over, Byrne thought. You might change your mind about that.

    Novakextended his hand.

    Byrnehad learned a lesson from his father many years earlier, and that was never torefuse to shake a man's hand, even if you think he is the most despicableperson on earth. The reason, Paddy Byrne explained to his young son, was thatif at some point in the future you needed to take that man down, he would neversee you coming.

    Byrnereached out.

    Thetwo men touched, and Byrne saw...

    ... thehouse bathed in darkness, light coming in the high windows, milk of an autumnmoon painting everything in a sulfurous blue.

    Fourpeople here. Music plays in the background. Lilting, familiar music, soonbuoyed by screams of terror and agony. Now the smell of blood in the air. Bloodand jasmine.

    Atmidnight three people stand over a dead body, blood spreading on the whitetile, glossy crimson clouds reflecting faces that. . .

    . . .Byrne could not see. Not yet. He held Joseph Novak's hand for an uncomfortablesecond too long. The gesture was not lost on Novak, who turned quickly andwalked out of the duty room.

    Byrnehad one question circling the disturbing vision in his mind, one question towhich he did not really want the answer.

    Wasthis Joseph Novak's memory, or my own?

Chapter 35

    Theymet in the boss's office. In the room, besides Dana Westbrook, were RussellDiaz, Nicci Malone, Nick Palladino, Josh Bontrager and Dennis Stansfield.

    Byrnedrew two triangles on the white board. On the first triangle he wrote a name atthe top. Antoinette Chan. At the bottom left he wrote Kenneth Beckman. Bottomright, Sharon Beckman.

    'Let'sstart with Antoinette Chan,' Byrne said. 'Let's say for the sake of argumentthat Beckman killed her. And let's say that Sharon Beckman was his accomplice,in that she set fire to their house to destroy any evidence. Kenneth Beckman'sbody was found at the original Chan crime scene. Sharon Beckman's was found onAntoinette Chan's grave. Killer, accomplice and victim, all joined in thistriangle, each point completed.'

    Byrnemoved over to the second triangle. At the top he put a question mark. At thelower left he wrote John Doe. At the lower right, another question mark.

    'Now,if our bad boy is some kind of vigilante, righting old wrongs, and his MO is totake out the lead suspect in an unsolved homicide and leave the body at theoriginal crime scene, then move on to an accomplice and dump that bodyon the grave of the original victim, I think we can extrapolate a bit here.'

    Byrnepointed at the bottom left of the second triangle.

    'Becauseour John Doe was found on the street, we can assume that he was someone who ourguy believes was responsible for a homicide that took place at that location.Who the victim was, and who the accomplice was, we won't know until we trackdown the original crime. We have to start here. Unless we can turn up awitness, it's the only move.'

    Byrneturned to Nicci. 'Nothing on the John Doe's prints yet?'

    Niccishook her head. 'The guy was a crackhead. His fingers are so burned we couldn'tget a good print. Still working on it, though.'

    Byrnenodded. 'Okay, then we'll have to find a homicide committed at the corner ofSecond and Poplar.'

    Therewere audible moans around the room. This was going to be a paper chase.

    Sixdetectives pored over homicide binders for cases from the past thirty years.Unfortunately, there was no way to search the electronic databases based onwhere a homicide had been committed, or by status. It all had to be done byhand. It was tedious work, having to read each file. Not all of them had beenfilled out properly or even legibly. It was almost a peer review of thedetectives who had worked in the unit over the past three decades.

    Jessicaflipped through the books covering 2003 to 2007. Case after case her eyesjumped from the name of the victim to the date, to the crime-scene location. Caseafter case took her on a grotesque tour of her city, its crimes of violence,its victims and perpetrators. It occurred to her more than once that she hadbeen to virtually all these places, many times, often with her family as achild, or with Sophie and Vincent, blissfully unaware that someone in hercity's past had been murdered there.

    Everyso often Jessica got up and fetched herself a fresh cup of coffee, hoping tokeep on mission. The names and addresses all started to blend together, and thedanger of finding herself daydreaming carried with it the hazard that she wouldhave no idea how long she had been drifting and therefore no idea how far sheneeded to go back.

    Freshcup, a quick stretch, and back at it. Mid-2004. The page on which she hadstopped told a charming little tale of a man who had shot his wife eleven timesfor having an affair with the UPS man. Jessica wondered if the guy delivered.

    You'regetting loopy, Jess.

    Sheflipped a page.

    'Hereit is!' she shouted, almost before she knew it.

    Theother five detectives got up, all but ran over to her.

    'June21, 2004. DOA found in a Dumpster near Second and Poplar. Victim's name wasMarcellus Palmer.'

    Aquick scan of the page told them the basics. Marcellus Palmer had beenindigent, forty-one years old. He was found bludgeoned to death, his pocketsturned inside out, his shoes missing. Jessica made a mental note, as sheassumed Byrne did as well, that the COD was the same as for Antoinette Chan.Bludgeoned. Perhaps the connection was there.

    Theywould have to go to Record Storage to get the full file, but they had made astart.

    Jessicalooked at the photo clipped to the summary. The new crime scene was literally afew feet from where Palmer's body had been found. It was one of Kevin Byrne'sold stomping grounds as a patrolman.

    'What'sthe status?' Bontrager asked.

    'Opencase,' Jessica said.

    'Suspects?'

    'Themain suspect, also homeless, was a man named Preston Braswell, thirty-one atthe time. Never charged.'

    NicciMalone sat down at a computer terminal, typed in the name. A few seconds latershe had a hit. And a picture. 'That's him. Preston Braswell is our John Doe.'

    Theother detectives crowded around the terminal. The photograph on the screen wasthat of a younger, cleaner version of the John Doe. A positive match.