‘What’re those?’ asked Pulaski, a representative of the generation that measured data storage in gigabytes.

‘Floppy disks,’ Sellitto said.

‘Heard of them. Never seen one.’

‘No kidding? And you know, Ron, they used to have big round black vinyl things you listened to music on. Oh, and we roasted our mastodon steaks over real fire, rookie. Before microwaves.’

‘Ha.’

The disks proved useless but Thom also managed to find hard copies of the files in the basement. Rhyme and the others were able to piece together a bio of the Bone Collector and use the Internet (now working at a fine clip) to determine that the perp from back then had no living relatives, none close at least.

Rhyme was quiet for a moment as he thought: And I know why he doesn’t have any family.

Sachs caught his troubled gaze. She gave a reassuring nod, which Rhyme didn’t respond to.

‘How about the survivors?’

More online research, more phone calls.

It turned out that aside from Pam none of the victims saved from the Bone Collector were still alive or living in the city.

Rhyme said brusquely, ‘All right, doesn’t sound like there’s any direct connection to the Bone Collector case. Revenge might be a dish best served cold but too much time has elapsed for somebody to come after us for that.’

‘Let’s talk to Terry,’ Sachs suggested.

The NYPD’s chief psychologist, Terry Dobyns. He was the one who’d formulated the theory that the Bone Collector’s obsession with bones was rooted in their permanence and reflected some loss in the perp’s past.

Dobyns was also the doctor who’d been a pit bull after Rhyme’s accident some years ago. He’d refused to accept Rhyme’s withdrawal from life and his flirtation with suicide. He’d helped the criminalist adjust to the world of the disabled. And no ‘How does that make you feel’ crap. Dobyns knew  how you felt and he guided the conversation in directions that took the hard edges off what you were going through while not shying from the truth that, yeah, sometimes life fucks with you.

The doctor was smart, no question. And a talented shrink. But Sachs’s suggestion for enlisting him now was another matter altogether; she wanted a psychological profile of Unsub 11 5 and profiling was an art – not a science, mind you – that Rhyme found dubious at best.

‘Why bother?’ he asked.

‘Cross our t’s and–’

‘No clichés, please, Sachs.’

‘–dot our j’s.’

Sellitto took sides. ‘What can it hurt, Linc?’

‘It’ll take time away from doing something valuable – analyzing the evidence. It’ll be distracting. That’s  what will hurt, Lon.’

‘You analyze away,’ Sellitto shot back. ‘Amelia and I’ll give Terry a call. You don’t even have to listen. Look, our unsub went to a lot of trouble to get his hands on a book that’s about the Bone Collector. I want to know why.’

‘All right,’ Rhyme said, surrendering.

Sellitto placed a call and when Dobyns answered, the detective hit a button on his mobile.

‘You’re on speaker, Terry. ’S Lon Sellitto. I’m here with Lincoln and a couple of others. We’ve got a case we’d like to ask you about.’

‘Been awhile,’ the doctor said in his smooth baritone. ‘How are you doing, Lon?’

‘Okay, okay.’

‘And Lincoln?’

‘Fine,’ Rhyme muttered and began looking over the evidence chart once more. Inwood marble. Being blown up. That , he was far more interested in than spongy psychological guesswork.

Alchemy …

‘It’s Amelia too,’ she said. ‘And Ron Pulaski and Mel Cooper.’

‘I’m deducing this’s about the tattoo case. I saw it on the wire.’

Though the press hadn’t been informed about the nuances of the Unsub 11 5 case, all law enforcement agencies in the area had been contacted, with a request for matching MOs (none had answered in the affirmative).

‘That’s right. There’s a development and we’d like your thoughts.’

‘I’m all ears.’

Rhyme had to admit that he found the man’s intonation calming. He could picture the sinewy, gray haired doctor, whose smile was as easy as his voice. When he was listening to you, he truly listened. You were the center of the universe.

Sachs explained about the perp’s theft of the chapter about the Bone Collector – and the fact that he’d been carrying it around with him during the crime. She added too that there was no direct connection with the Bone Collector case but that he’d probably gone to some trouble to obtain a copy of the book.

Lon Sellitto added, ‘And he left a message.’ He explained about the tattooed phrase ‘the second’ in Old English type.

The doctor was silent for a moment. Then: ‘Well, the first thing that I thought of, which you obviously have too, is that he’s a serial doer. A partial message means there’re more to come. And then his interest in the Bone Collector, who was a serial kidnapper.’

‘We assume he’s going to keep hunting,’ Sellitto said.

‘Do you have any leads at all?’

Sachs said, ‘Description – white male, slim. Some details on the poisons he used and one that he probably intends to.’

‘And the victim’s white female?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fits the serial killer model.’ Most such killers hunted in the same racial pool as their own.

Sachs continued, ‘He subdued her with propofol. So maybe he’s got a medical background.’

‘Like the Bone Collector,’ Dobyns said.

‘Right,’ Rhyme said, eyes shifting from the evidence to the speaker phone. ‘I hadn’t thought about that.’ His attention to the psychiatrist now edged over the 50 percent mark.

‘Sexual component?’

‘No,’ Sellitto said.

Sachs added, ‘It took her some time to die. Presumably he was there, watching. And possibly enjoying it.’

‘Sadistic,’ Ron Pulaski said.

‘Who’s that?’ Dobyns asked.

‘It’s Ron Pulaski, Patrol. I work with Lincoln and Amelia.’

‘Hello, Officer. Well, no, actually I don’t see sadism. That occurs only in a sexual context. If he enjoys inflicting pain for its own sake his condition would probably be diagnosed as anti social personality disorder.’

‘Yessir.’ Pulaski was blushing, not from the correction but, it seemed, because of Rhyme’s glare at the interruption.

Dobyns said, ‘Off the top of my head, he’s an organized offender and he’ll be planning out the attacks carefully. I’d also say there’re two possible reasons for your unsub’s interest in the Bone Collector and in you, Lincoln. Amelia too, don’t forget. One, he might have been affected by the Bone Collector’s crimes a decade ago. Emotionally moved by them, I mean.’

‘Even if he had no direct connection?’ Rhyme asked, forgetting he was trying to ignore the doctor’s input.

‘Yes. You don’t know his age exactly but it’s possible he was in early adolescence then – just the time when a news story about a serial doer might’ve spoken to him. As for that message? Well, the Bone Collector was, if I remember, all about revenge.’

‘That’s right.’

Sellitto asked, ‘What kind of revenge would our unsub be after, Doc? Family members who’d died? Some other personal loss?’

‘Really, it could be anything. Maybe he suffered a loss, a tragedy that he blames someone for – or some thing , a company, organization, institution. The loss might’ve happened when the Bone Collector story hit the press and he embraced the idea of getting retribution the same way the Bone Collector did. He’s been carrying that thought around with him. That’s one explanation for why this murder echoes the attacks from a decade ago – some of those crimes were underground too, weren’t they?’

‘That’s right,’ Rhyme confirmed.

‘And your unsub has a morbid interest in the morphology of the human body. Skin, in his case.’

Sachs added, ‘Yes, I found evidence that he touched the victim in a number of places – not sexually. There was no reason related to the tattooing for that that I could see. It gave him some satisfaction, I was thinking. My impression.’