The Broken Window

readable form.The SSD security system knew that Szarnek had covered his tracks so it had slipped inside his computer to read the data in the empty space and find out who he was. “It’s pretty freaky. I just happened to catch it. Otherwise . . .” He shrugged and took comfort in his coffee.
    Rhyme had a thought. The more he considered the idea, the more he liked it. He looked over at the skinny Szarnek. “Hey, Rodney, how’d you like to play real cop for a change?”
    The carefree-geek visage disappeared. “You know, I don’t really think I’m up for that.”
    Sellitto finished chewing the last of his sandwich. “You haven’t lived till a bullet breaks the sound barrier right next to your ear.”
    “Wait, wait, wait . . . The only time I do any shooting is role-playing games and—”
    “Oh, you wouldn’t be the one at risk,” Rhyme said to the computer man, as his amused gaze slipped to Ron Pulaski, who was closing his phone.
    “What?” the rookie asked with a frown.

Chapter Twenty-five
    “Anything else you need, Officer?”
    Sitting in the SSD conference room, Ron Pulaski looked up into the emotionless face of Sterling’s second assistant, Jeremy Mills. He was the “outside” assistant, the young officer recalled. “No, I’m fine, thanks. But I wonder if you could check with Mr. Sterling about some files he was getting together for us. A list of clients. I think Martin was handling it.”
    “I’d be happy to bring it up with Andrew when he’s out of his meeting.” Then the broad-shouldered man walked around the room, pointing out the air-conditioning and light switches like the bellboy who’d escorted Jenny and Pulaski to their fancy room on their honeymoon.
    Which reminded Pulaski again of how Jenny resembled Myra, the woman who’d been raped and killed yesterday. The way her hair lay, the slightly crooked smile he loved, the—
    “Officer?”
    Pulaski glanced up, realized his mind had been wandering. “Sorry.”
    The assistant was studying him as he pointed out a small refrigerator. “Soda and water in here.”
    “Thanks. I’m all set.”
    Pay attention, he told himself angrily. Forget Jenny. Forget the children. People’s lives are at stake here. Amelia thinks you can handle these interviews. So handle them.
    You with us, rookie? I need you with us.
    “If you want to make a call you can use this one. Dial nine for an outside line. Or you can just push this button, then speak the number. It’s voice activated.” He pointed at Pulaski’s cell phone. “That probably won’t work too well here. Lot of shielding, you know. For security.”
    “Really? Okay.” Pulaski thought back; hadn’t he seen somebody using a phone or BlackBerry here earlier? He couldn’t recall.
    “I’ll have those employees come in. If you’re ready.”
    “That’d be great.”
    The young man headed down the hall. Pulaski took his notebook out of his briefcase. Glanced at the names of the employees he had yet to interview.
    Steven Shraeder, Technical Service and Support Manager, day shift.
    Faruk Mameda, Technical Service and Support Manager, night shift.
    He rose and peered into the hall. Nearby a janitor was emptying trash cans. He recalled he’d seen him yesterday, doing the same; it was as if Sterling was afraid that any brimming garbage would give the company a bad name. The solid man glanced at Pulaski’s uniform without reaction and returned to his task, which he performed methodically. Looking farther down theimmaculate corridor, the young cop could see a security guard standing at attention. Pulaski couldn’t even get to the restroom without passing him. He returned to his seat to await the two men on the suspect list.
    Faruk Mameda was first, a young man of Middle Eastern ancestry, Pulaski judged. He was very handsome, solemn-faced and confident. He held Pulaski’s eye easily. The young man explained that he’d been with a small company SSD had acquired five or six years ago. His job was to supervise the technical-service staff. Single, with no family, he preferred working nights.
    The cop was surprised that he didn’t have a trace of foreign accent. Pulaski asked if Mameda had heard about the investigation. He claimed he hadn’t heard the details—which could have been true, since he worked the night shift and had just gotten to work. All he knew was that Andrew Sterling had called and told him to speak to the police about a crime that had occurred.
    He frowned as the