The Broken Window

gotten here after he’d done that, you’d’ve had a problem.”
    Sachs added, “Oh, one more thing, Mr. Williams?”
    “What’s that, Detective?”
    “Just some trivia you might be interested in. Do you know owning an unregistered handgun in New York City is a very serious crime?”
    “I think I heard that somewhere.”
    “And some more trivia is that there’s an amnesty program at your local precinct. No questions asked if you turn in a weapon . . . Okay, you take care. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
    “I’ll try.”

Chapter Eleven
    I’m watching the policewoman as she searches the trash can where I dumped the evidence. I was dismayed at first but then I realized I shouldn’t have been. If They were smart enough to figure out about me, They’re smart enough to find the trash.
    I doubt They got a good look at me but I’m being very careful. Of course, I’m not at the scene itself; I’m in a restaurant across the street, forcing down a hamburger and sipping water. The police have this outfit called the “Anti-crime” detail, which has always struck me as absurd. As if other details are pro-crime. Anti-crime officers wear street clothes and they circulate at crime scenes to find witnesses and, occasionally, even the perps, who have returned. Most criminals do so because they’re stupid or behave irrationally. But I’m here for two specific reasons. First, because I’ve realized I have a problem. I can’t live with it so I need a solution. And you can’t solve a problem without knowledge. I’ve already learned a few things.
    For instance, I know some of the people who are after me. Like this redheaded policewoman in a white plastic jumpsuit concentrating on the crime scene the way I concentrate on my data.
    I see her step out of the area, surrounded by yellow tape, with several bags. She sets these in gray plastic boxes and strips off the white suit. Despite the lingering horror from the disaster of this afternoon, I feel that twinge inside as I see her tight jeans, the satisfaction from my transaction with Myra 9834 earlier today wearing off.
    As the police head back to their cars she makes a phone call.
    I pay the bill and walk nonchalantly out the door, acting like any other patron on this fine late-afternoon Sunday.
    Off. The. Grid.
    Oh, the second reason I’m here?
    Very simple. To protect my treasures, to protect my life, which means doing whatever’s necessary to make Them go away.
    •   •   •
    “What’d Five Twenty-Two leave in that trash can?” Rhyme was speaking into the hands-free phone.
    “There’s not much. We’re sure it’s his stuff, though. Bloody paper towel and some wet blood in plastic bags—so he could leave some in Williams’ car or garage. I’ve already sent a sample to the lab for a preliminary DNA match. Computer printout of the vic’s picture. Roll of duct tape—Home Depot house brand. And a running shoe. It looked new.”
    “Just one?”
    “Yep. The right.”
    “Maybe he stole it from Williams’ place to leave a print at the scene. Anybody get a look at him?”
    “A sniper and two guys from the S and S team. But he wasn’t very close. Probably white or light-skinnedethnic, medium build. Tan cap and sunglasses, backpack. No age, no hair color.”
    “That’s it?”
    “Yep.”
    “Well, get the evidence here stat. Then I want you to walk the grid at the Weinburg rape scene. They’re preserving it till you get there.”
    “I’ve got another lead, Rhyme.”
    “You do? What’s that?”
    “We found a Post-it note stuck to the bottom of the plastic bag with the evidence in it. Five Twenty-Two wanted to ditch the bag; I’m not sure he wanted to pitch out the note.”
    “What is it?”
    “A room number of a residence hotel, Upper East Side, Manhattan. I want to check it out.”
    “You think it’s Five Twenty-Two’s?”
    “No, I called the front desk and they say the tenant’s been in the room all day. Somebody named Robert Jorgensen.”
    “Well, we need the rape scene searched, Sachs.”
    “Send Ron. He can handle it.”
    “I’d rather you ran it.”
    “I really think we need to see if there’s any connection between this Jorgensen and Five Twenty-Two. And fast.”
    He couldn’t dispute her point. Besides, both of them had ridden Pulaski hard in teaching him how to walk the grid—Rhyme’s coined expression for searching a crime scene, a reference to looking over the area according to the grid pattern, the most