Part 42 (1/2)

Sarah's first thought was that it came from an old children's book, albeit one she didn't know. She read the lines again. Maybe it was from a poem. Or maybe it wasn't from anything-except the killer's own mind.

She brought up Google while McConnell continued talking. He was reciting the highlights from Ned Sinclair's file in bullet-point fas.h.i.+on. ”Mathematics PhD...professor at UCLA...fired nearly four years ago...”

Sarah typed in the lines from the e-mail.

McConnell droned on. ”Diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder...unnatural fixation with sibling...Nora, his sister...”

”d.a.m.n!” Sarah muttered under her breath as she looked at her screen.

The search results-there were thousands of them. She forgot to put the lines in quotation marks. Quickly, she added them, and-bingo-thousands of results turned into one.

It was a website for a certain musical group. The name said it all.

Sarah suddenly jumped up from her chair, practically lunging for her shoulder bag, which was on the floor behind her. The DVD of You've Got Mail was in the side pocket. She flipped it over to the back, scanning the credits. She'd read the name, knew it well, but wanted to make sure.

Back at her desk she rifled through her notes on Ulysses. She was positive she'd written it down, the woman James Joyce married.

”What did you say Ned's sister's name was again?” she asked McConnell, interrupting him.

His dyspeptic swallow and punching of random words had returned. But there was nothing random about this one word. It was dead-on.

”His sister's name was...Nora,” he said.

Chapter 66

THE CALLER ID on my cell said QUEENS MED. EXAM.

I put down my gla.s.s of OJ, muted the small television in my kitchen, and answered ”h.e.l.lo?” before the second ring.

”Agent O'Hara, this is Dr. Papenziekas,” he said.

The deputy medical examiner was getting back to me in the morning, as promised. Bright and early, too.

”What's your verdict on our airport couple?” I asked. ”You have anything good for me?”

”You were right,” he said.

”Cyclosarin?”

”Lots of it.”

”Are you sure?”