The Burning Wire

the bodies?”
    His face was solemn, troubled, and she could tell that it had been a difficult chore. Still, he said evenly, “No trace. But there was something interesting. All three of them had wet soles. All their shoes.”
    “The fire department?”
    “No, the fire was out by the time they got here.”
    Water. That was interesting. To improve the connection. But how did he get their shoes wet? Sachs then asked, “You said three bodies?”
    “That’s right.”
    “But that ESU guy said there were four vics.”
    “There were, but only three of them died. Here.” He handed her a piece of paper.
    “What’s this?” On the slip was a name and phone number.
    “The survivor. I figured you’d want to talk to her. Her name’s Susan Stringer. She’s at St. Vincent’s. Smoke inhalation, some burns. But she’ll be okay. They’ll be releasing her in an hour or so.”
    Sachs was shaking her head. “I don’t see how anybody could’ve survived. There were thirteen thousand volts in here.”
    Ron Pulaski replied, “Oh, she’s disabled. In a wheelchair. Rubber tires, you know. Guess that insulated her.”

Chapter 51
    “HOW’D HE DO?” Rhyme asked Sachs, who’d just returned to the lab.
    “Ron? Little distracted. But he did a good job. Processed the bodies. That was tough. But he found something interesting. Somehow the vics all had wet shoes.”
    “How’d Galt manage that?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “You don’t think Ron’s too shaken up?”
    “Not too . But some . But he’s young. Happens.”
    “That’s no excuse.”
    “No, it’s not. It’s an explanation.”
    “They’re both the same to me,” Rhyme muttered. “Where is he?”
    The hour was after 8 p.m. “He went back to Galt’s, thought he might’ve missed something.”
    Rhyme thought this wasn’t a bad idea, though he was confident that the young officer had searched the scene well the first time. He added, “Just keep an eye on him. I won’t risk anybody’s life because he’s distracted.”
    “Agreed.”
    The two of them and Cooper were here alone in the lab. McDaniel and the Kid were back at the federal building, meeting with Homeland Security, and Sellitto was down at the Big Building—One Police Plaza. Rhyme wasn’t sure whom he was meeting with but there’d undoubtedly be a long list of people who wanted explanations about why there was no suspect in custody.
    Cooper and Sachs were laying out the evidence that Sachs had collected at the office building. The tech then examined the cable and other items that were rigged at the base of the elevator shaft.
    “There’s one other thing.” Sachs probably thought her voice was casual; in fact it was tripping with meaning to Rhyme. Tough to be in love with somebody; you can read them so well when they’re up to something.
    “What?” He gave her his inquisitor’s gaze.
    “There was a witness. She was in the elevator when the other people died.”
    “She hurt bad?”
    “Apparently not. Smoke inhalation mostly.”
    “That would’ve been unpleasant. Burning hair.” His nostrils flared slightly.
    Sachs sniffed at her red strands. Her nose wrinkled too. “I’m taking a really long shower tonight.”
    “What’d she have to say?”
    “I didn’t get a chance to interview her. . . . She’s coming over here as soon as she’s released.”
    “Here?” Rhyme asked with surprise. Not only was he skeptical of witnesses in the first place, but there was a security question about letting a stranger into the lab. If a terrorist cell was behind the attacks, they might want to sneak one of their members into the inner sanctum of the investigators.
    But Sachs laughed, deducing his thoughts. “I checked her out, Rhyme. She’s clean. No record, no warrants. Longtime editor of some furniture magazine. Besides, I thought it wasn’t a bad idea—I wouldn’t have to spend the time getting to and from the hospital. I can stay here and work the evidence.”
    “What else?”
    She hesitated. Another smile. “I was explaining too much?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Okay. She’s disabled.”
    “Is she now? That’s still not answering my question.”
    “She wants to meet you, Rhyme. You’re a celebrity.”
    Rhyme sighed. “Fine.”
    Sachs turned to him, eyes narrowed. “You’re not arguing.”
    Now he laughed. “Not in the mood. Let her come over. I’ll interview her myself. Show you how it’s done. Short and sweet.”
    Sachs gave a cautious look.
    Rhyme then asked, “What do