And so Rhyme and Baker had asked her to handle Vincent's interview. They needed to find the Watchmaker as fast as possible and, if rubber hoses were out, they wanted an expert.

The California special agent now drew the curtains closed and sat down across from Vincent, nothing between them. She scooted the chair forward until she was about three feet away. Rhyme supposed this was to get into his space and help break down his resistance. But he also realized that if Vincent flipped out he could lunge forward and injure her severely with his head or teeth.

She was undoubtedly aware of this too but gave no indication of feeling in danger. She offered a reserved smile and said calmly, "Hello, Vincent. I know you've been informed of your rights and you've agreed to talk to us. We appreciate that."

"Absolutely. Anything I can do. This is a big…" he shrugged…"misunderstanding, you know."

"Then we'll get everything straightened out. I just need some basic information first." She asked his full name, address, age, where he worked, if he'd ever been arrested.

He frowned. "I already told him this." A look at Sellitto.

"I'm sorry. Left hand, right hand, you know. If you wouldn't mind going over it again."

"Oh, all right."

Rhyme figured that since he was giving her verified facts, she'd be creating a baseline kinesic reading. Now that Kathryn Dance had altered the criminalist's opinion about interviewing and witnesses, he was intrigued by the process.

Dance nodded pleasantly as she jotted down Vincent's responses and thanked him from time to time for his cooperation. Her politeness confused Rhyme. He himself would be a hell of a lot tougher.

Vincent grimaced. "Look, I can, you know, talk to you for as long as you want. But I hope you sent somebody to look for that man I saw. You don't want him to get away. I'm worried about that. I try to help, and look what happens-this's the story of my life."

Though what he'd told Dance and the officers on the scene about the suspect wasn't helpful. The building he claimed the killer disappeared into showed no signs that anyone had been inside recently.

"Now if you could go through the facts once more. Tell me what happened. Only, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to tell it to me in reverse order."

"What?"

"Reverse chronological order. It's a good way to jump-start memories. Start with the last event first and go back in time from there. The suspect-he's going through the doorway of that old building in the alley… Let's begin with some specifics. The color of the door."

Vincent shifted in his chair, frowned. After a moment he gave his account, starting with the man pushing through the doorway (he couldn't remember the color). Vincent then explained what happened just before that-the man running down the alley. Then entering it. And before that he was running down the street. Finally Vincent told them about spotting a man on Barrow, looking around uneasily, then breaking into a run.

"Okay," Dance said, jotting notes. "Thank you, Vincent." She gave a faint frown. "But why did you tell me your name was Tony Parsons?"

"Because I was scared. I did a good deed, I told you what I saw, but I was afraid the killer would murder me if he found out my name." His jaw trembled. "I wished I hadn't said anything about what I'd seen. But I did and got scared. I told you I was afraid."

The man's whining irritated Rhyme. Grill him, he silently urged Kathryn Dance.

But she asked pleasantly, "Tell me about the knife."

"Okay, I shouldn't've had it. But I was mugged a few years ago. It was terrible. I'm so stupid. I should've just left it at home. I usually do that. I just don't think. And then it gets me in trouble."

Then she slipped her jacket off and set it on the chair next to her.

He continued. "Everybody else is smart enough not to get involved. I say something and look what happens." Gazing at the floor, disgust twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Dance asked details of how he learned about the Watchmaker's killings and where he was at the times of the other attacks.

The questions were curious to Rhyme. Superficial. She wasn't probing the way he would have, demanding alibis and pulling apart his story. What seemed to be some good leads, she let drop. Dance never once asked if there was another reason he'd been leading her into the alley, which they all suspected was to murder her-perhaps even to torture her into telling what the police might know about the Watchmaker.

The agent gave no reaction to his answers but merely jotted notes. Finally the agent looked behind Vincent at Sachs. "Amelia, could you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Could you show Vincent the footprint we found?"

Sachs rose and got the electrostatic image. She held it up for Vincent to look at.

"What about it?" he asked.

"That's your size shoe, isn't it?"

"About."

She continued to stare at him, saying nothing. Rhyme sensed she was setting up a brilliant trap. He watched them both closely…

"Thanks," Dance said to Sachs, who sat down again.

The agent eased forward, slightly more into the suspect's personal space. "Vincent, I'm curious. Where'd you get the groceries?"

A brief hesitation. "Well, at the Food Emporium."

Rhyme finally understood. She was going to draw him out about the groceries and then ask him why he'd bought them in Manhattan if he lived in New Jersey-since everything in the cart would be available closer to home and probably cheaper. She leaned forward, pulling off her glasses.

Now-she was going to snare him.

Kathryn Dance smiled and said, "Thank you, Vincent. I think that'll be it. Hey, you thirsty?" the agent added. "Want a soda?"

Vincent nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

Dance glanced at Rhyme. "Could we get him something?"

Rhyme blinked and shot a perplexed look at Sachs, who was frowning. What the hell was Dance thinking? She hadn't gotten a single bit of information out of him. The criminalist was thinking, A waste of time. That's all she's going to ask him? And now she's playing hostess? Reluctantly Rhyme called Thom, who brought Dance a Coke.

Dance put a straw in and held it up for the handcuffed man to drink from. He drained the glass in seconds.

"Vincent, just give us a few minutes alone, if you don't mind, and I think we'll get this all straightened out."

"Okay. Sure."

The patrol officers escorted him out. Dance shut the door behind him. Dennis Baker shook his head, staring unhappily at the agent. Sellitto muttered, "Worthless."

Dance frowned. "No, no, we're doing fine."

"We are?" Rhyme asked.

"Right on track…Now, here's the situation. I got his baseline readings and then asked him about the reverse order of events-it's a good way to catch up deceptive subjects who've been improvising. People can describe an actual series of past events in any order-from start to finish or backward-without a problem. But people fabricate events in only one direction, start to finish. When they try to reconstruct it backward, they don't have the cues that they used in creating the scenario and they trip up. So, I learned right up front that he's the Watchmaker's assistant."

"You did?" Sellitto laughed.

"Oh, that was obvious. His recognition responses were off the charts. And he's not afraid for his personal safety, like he claimed. No, he knows the Watchmaker and he's been involved in the crimes but in a way that I can't figure out. More than just a getaway driver."

"But you didn't ask him about any of that," Baker pointed out. "Shouldn't we be picking apart where he said he was at the times of the attacks at the florist shop and the apartment in Greenwich Village?"

Rhyme's observation, too.

"Oh, no. Worst thing to do. If I did, those are the subjects he'd stonewall on instantly." She continued. "He's a complicated person, there's a lot of conflict going on inside him, and my feeling is that he's in the second state of stress response, depression. That's essentially anger turned inward. And it's very difficult to break through. Given his personality type, I'd need to create a sympathetic bond between us and it would take days, maybe weeks, to get to the truth with traditional interrogation methods. But we don't have days. Our only chance is to try something radical."