He'd been through the interview so often he was numb to the words; it provided nothing helpful now that he could tell. But Dance gave a sudden laugh. "Got a thought."
"What?"
"Well, I can't give you an address but I can give you a state. My guess is that he comes from California. Or lived there for some time."
"Why do you think that?"
She backed up with the rewind command. Then played part of the interview again, the portion where he talked about driving to Long Island to take delivery of the confiscated SUV.
Dance stopped the tape and said, "I've studied regional expressions. People in California usually refer to their interstate highways with the article 'the.' The four-oh-five in L.A., for instance. In the interview he referred to 'the four ninety-five' here in New York. And did you hear him say freeway? That's common in California too, more so than expressway or interstate. Which is what you hear on the East Coast."
Possibly helpful, Rhyme thought. Another brick in the wall of evidence. "On the chart," he said.
"When I get back I'll open a formal investigation in my office," she said. "I'll put out everything we've got statewide. We'll see what happens. Okay, I better be going. . . . Oh, I'll be expecting you both out in California sometime soon."
The aide glanced at Rhyme. "He needs to travel more. He pretends he doesn't like to but the fact is, once he gets someplace he enjoys it. As long as there's scotch and some good crime to keep him interested."
"It's Northern California," Dance said. "Wine country, mostly, but not to worry, we have plenty of crime."
"We'll see," Rhyme said noncommittally. Then he added, "But one thing--do me a favor?"
"Sure.
"Shut your cell phone off. I'll probably be tempted to call you again on the way to the airport if something else comes up."
"If I didn't have the children to get back to I might just pick up."
Sellitto thanked her again and Thom saw her out the door.
Rhyme said, "Ron, make yourself useful."
The rookie looked at the evidence tables. "I already called about the rope, if that's what you mean."
"No, that's not what I mean," Rhyme muttered. "I said useful." He nodded at the bottle of scotch sitting on a shelf across the room.
"Oh, sure."
"Make it two," Sellitto grumbled. "And don't be stingy."
Pulaski poured the whiskey and handed out two glasses--Cooper declined. Rhyme said to the rookie, "Don't neglect yourself."
"Oh, I'm in uniform."
Sellitto choked a laugh.
"Okay. Maybe just a little." He poured and then sipped the potent--and extremely expensive--liquor. "I like it," he said, though his eyes were telling a different story. "Say, you ever mix in a little ginger ale or Sprite?"
Chapter 42
Before and After.
People move on.
For one reason or another, they move on, and Before becomes After.
Lincoln Rhyme heard these words floating through his head, over and over. Broken record. People move on.
He'd actually used the phrase himself--when he'd told his wife he wanted a divorce, not long after his accident. Their relationship had been rocky for some time and he had decided that whether or not he survived the broken neck, he was going to go forward on his own and not tie her down to the difficult life of a gimp's wife.