to exude a giddiness at being alive. He put the album on the filing cabinet and sat down at his desk.
He opened the police and forensics report. No knife found—
not a good sign
, he thought—two partial prints from a running shoe or hiking boot discovered near her footprints and made at roughly the same time. Some further partial footprints, this time with blood, leading to the edge of the road, where they stopped. “He took his shoes off,” MacNeice said quietly. His upper body would have been the most bloodied, but he hadn’t panicked. “Show me an aerial of the site.”
Ryan pulled up the image on his computer. “Here you go, sir.” He slid out of the way.
MacNeice studied the screen and then the outputs of the partial footprints that stopped at the road. “Blow up this section.” He pointed to the middle left of the screen. With two clicks the image grew, and MacNeice looked closer. After several seconds he said, “I think we’ve found his way out.” He reached over to where the bloody shoeprint ended and drew his finger across the road to the last house. He tapped the driveway pictured on the screen. “That’s where he parked. She was looking up the stairs to the top; he parked on her blind side, arriving before her.”
“I checked that house last night,” Vertesi said. “It’s for sale and empty. There’s a paved driveway but it’s all cracking, with grass and weeds coming through the concrete.”
“How would he know she was going to meet her mother?” Williams asked.
“Either it was random—which I don’t believe—or he knew it was her routine to meet her mother there,” MacNeice said. “She left the apartment … Zoom out on the aerial.” Ryan pulled the image back. “There, from Cannon to where Wentworth turns up the mountain. My guess—he was waiting across the street from her apartment, parked, until she came out of the house. When she did and headed south on Wentworth, he drove to that driveway and waited for her.”
“There were some oil stains; it’s possible they were fresh. I’ll have them checked out.”
“Find out whether they’re oil from a car or a truck. Then look around the west side of 94 Wentworth for any similar stains.” He looked again at the report; Forensics estimated the shoe size to be ten and a half to eleven. He turned the page to the fingerprints: several partials and dozens of full-on prints. They had eliminated the older prints, and after examining the fresh ones, they had determined that most were from the teenagers who had gathered there to look at the body. Ghosh’s prints were found on the railing where she had jumped, but there were no fresh prints nearby. “He wears gloves. Who wears gloves in the summertime?” MacNeice said to himself.
“Boss, you’ll want to see this. Ryan’s just opened a link.” Vertesi moved aside from the screen. “It’s not good.”
MacNeice and Williams both turned towards the screen. There, in colour, was a close-up of the dead girl, taken not by one of the teenagers standing on the stairs, as MacNeice had feared, but by someone standing right over her. “What is this?”
“It’s the Internet, sir,” Vertesi said.
“Where did it come from?” MacNeice asked.
Ryan looked up at MacNeice. “Anyone with a cellphone could push that out into the world. Judging by the image quality, it’s either a BlackBerry or an iPhone.”
“Hers. He took the shot while she was face up, then flipped her face down,” MacNeice said, going back to his desk.
“How fast can we get that off the Web?” Williams asked.
“No can do—it’s out there. Even if the service providers take it down, it’s gone viral. I think there must be at least a million kids in China gawking at this image right now. Sorry.”
“This is a seriously sick fuck,” Vertesi said.
MacNeice put down the forensics file. “Start marking up thatwhiteboard. I’m at the coroner’s. I’ll call the Deputy Chief about the killing and let
He opened the police and forensics report. No knife found—
not a good sign
, he thought—two partial prints from a running shoe or hiking boot discovered near her footprints and made at roughly the same time. Some further partial footprints, this time with blood, leading to the edge of the road, where they stopped. “He took his shoes off,” MacNeice said quietly. His upper body would have been the most bloodied, but he hadn’t panicked. “Show me an aerial of the site.”
Ryan pulled up the image on his computer. “Here you go, sir.” He slid out of the way.
MacNeice studied the screen and then the outputs of the partial footprints that stopped at the road. “Blow up this section.” He pointed to the middle left of the screen. With two clicks the image grew, and MacNeice looked closer. After several seconds he said, “I think we’ve found his way out.” He reached over to where the bloody shoeprint ended and drew his finger across the road to the last house. He tapped the driveway pictured on the screen. “That’s where he parked. She was looking up the stairs to the top; he parked on her blind side, arriving before her.”
“I checked that house last night,” Vertesi said. “It’s for sale and empty. There’s a paved driveway but it’s all cracking, with grass and weeds coming through the concrete.”
“How would he know she was going to meet her mother?” Williams asked.
“Either it was random—which I don’t believe—or he knew it was her routine to meet her mother there,” MacNeice said. “She left the apartment … Zoom out on the aerial.” Ryan pulled the image back. “There, from Cannon to where Wentworth turns up the mountain. My guess—he was waiting across the street from her apartment, parked, until she came out of the house. When she did and headed south on Wentworth, he drove to that driveway and waited for her.”
“There were some oil stains; it’s possible they were fresh. I’ll have them checked out.”
“Find out whether they’re oil from a car or a truck. Then look around the west side of 94 Wentworth for any similar stains.” He looked again at the report; Forensics estimated the shoe size to be ten and a half to eleven. He turned the page to the fingerprints: several partials and dozens of full-on prints. They had eliminated the older prints, and after examining the fresh ones, they had determined that most were from the teenagers who had gathered there to look at the body. Ghosh’s prints were found on the railing where she had jumped, but there were no fresh prints nearby. “He wears gloves. Who wears gloves in the summertime?” MacNeice said to himself.
“Boss, you’ll want to see this. Ryan’s just opened a link.” Vertesi moved aside from the screen. “It’s not good.”
MacNeice and Williams both turned towards the screen. There, in colour, was a close-up of the dead girl, taken not by one of the teenagers standing on the stairs, as MacNeice had feared, but by someone standing right over her. “What is this?”
“It’s the Internet, sir,” Vertesi said.
“Where did it come from?” MacNeice asked.
Ryan looked up at MacNeice. “Anyone with a cellphone could push that out into the world. Judging by the image quality, it’s either a BlackBerry or an iPhone.”
“Hers. He took the shot while she was face up, then flipped her face down,” MacNeice said, going back to his desk.
“How fast can we get that off the Web?” Williams asked.
“No can do—it’s out there. Even if the service providers take it down, it’s gone viral. I think there must be at least a million kids in China gawking at this image right now. Sorry.”
“This is a seriously sick fuck,” Vertesi said.
MacNeice put down the forensics file. “Start marking up thatwhiteboard. I’m at the coroner’s. I’ll call the Deputy Chief about the killing and let
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