The Kill Room

wrong. What more do you want me to say? I apologize.”
    “To me? Maybe you should apologize to Robert Moreno’s wife and children or the family of de la Rua, the reporter, or his bodyguard. They need an apology more than I do, don’t you think, Shreve?”
    Metzger pushed the ID back toward Shales. “This’s been tough for you. Take some time off.”
    Leaving the badge untouched, Shales turned and opened the door, walking out of the office. “I’m sorry if I upset you, Ruth.”
    She only stared.
    In five minutes he was outside the front gate of NIOS and walking through the alley to the main north–south street nearby.
    Then he was on the sidewalk, feeling suddenly light of step and aglow with ambiguous satisfaction.
    He’d call the sitter, take Margaret to dinner that night. He’d break the news to her that he was now unemployed. He could—
    A dark sedan squealed to a stop beside him. Two men flung doors open and were outside in an instant, moving toward him.
    For a moment Shales wondered if Shreve Metzger had called in specialists—had arranged for an STO with the name Barry Shales as the task, to eliminate him as a threat to his precious assassination program.
    But the men moving toward him didn’t pull out suppressed Berettas or SIGs. The palms of their hands glinted with metal, yes—but they were gold. New York City Police Department shields.
    “Barry Shales?” the older of the two asked.
    “I…yes, I’m Shales.”
    “I’m Detective Brickard. This is Detective Samuels.” The badges and IDs disappeared. “You’re under arrest, sir.”
    Shales gave a brief, surprised laugh. A mistake. Word hadn’t filtered down to them that the investigation was over.
    “No, there’s some mistake.”
    “Please turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
    “But what’s the charge?”
    “Murder.”
    “No, no—the Moreno case…it’s been dropped.”
    The detectives looked at each other. Brickard said, “I don’t know anything about any Moreno, sir. Please. Your hands. Now.”

CHAPTER 76
    I T MAY BE A TOUGH SELL TO THE JURY, ” Lincoln Rhyme said, speaking of the theory behind a new case against Metzger and Shales.
    Amelia Sachs’s theory, not his. And one he was quite enamored of—and proud of her for formulating. Rhyme secretly loved it when people— some people—outthought him.
    Sachs glanced at her humming phone. “A text.”
    “Nance?”
    “No.” She looked from the querying eyes of Mel Cooper to Ron Pulaski to, finally, Rhyme. “Barry Shales’s in custody. No resistance.”
    So, they were proceeding now according to Sachs’s theory, which she’d come up with from a simple entry in the evidence charts.
Victim 2: Eduardo de la Rua.
COD: Loss of blood. Lacerations from flying glass from gunshot, measuring 3–4mm wide, 2–3cm long.
Supplemental information: Journalist, interviewing Moreno. Born Puerto Rico, living in Argentina.
Camera, tape recorder, gold pen, notebooks missing.
Shoes contained fibers associated with carpet in hotel corridor, dirt from hotel entryway.
Clothing contained traces of breakfast: allspice and pepper sauce.
    Her thinking was all the more brilliant because of its simplicity: People born in Puerto Rico are U.S. citizens.
    Therefore Barry Shales had killed an American in the attack on May 9 in the South Cove Inn.
    Nance’s boss, the DA, had decided not to pursue the case only because Moreno wasn’t a citizen. But de la Rua was. Even an unintended death under some circumstances can subject the killer to murder charges.
    Sachs continued, “But at the very least, I’d think we could get manslaughter. Shales inadvertently killed de la Rua as part of the intentional act of killing Moreno. He should have known that someone else in the room could have been fatally wounded when he fired the shot.”
    A woman’s voice filled the room. “Good analysis, Amelia. Have you ever thought of going to law school?”
    Rhyme turned to see Nance Laurel striding into the parlor, lugging her briefcase and litigation bag once again. Behind her was the detective they’d asked to collect her, a friend of Sachs’s. Bill Flaherty. Rhyme had thought it safer for her to have an escort. He was still uneasy that Unsub 516 was at large, especially now that there was a chance of reviving the Moreno case.
    Laurel thanked the detective, who nodded and—with a smile toward Sachs and Rhyme—left the town house.
    Rhyme asked the ADA, “So? Our case? What do you think?