Unsolved (Invisible #2) - James Patterson Page 0,69

on his torso become critical.”

“He injected Mayday with something,” I say.

“He didn’t inject chemicals,” Lia says. “The tox screen was clean. No illicit drugs, no paralyzing agents. Nothing that would have rendered the decedent powerless.”

Just like the tox screen for Nora Connolley in New Orleans.

“I can think of only one possibility,” says Dr. Janus.

“What’s that?”

“A Taser,” she says. “The two puncture wounds are the approximate relative distance apart of two Taser darts.”

“But—we ruled that out,” I say. “That was the first thing I thought of, long ago. But every cop in every case has said this doesn’t look anything like a Taser wound.”

Lia draws back, looks over at Officer Ciomek, then at me. “I wasn’t aware of other cases. You think this is another…another serial—”

“Let’s—let’s just focus on this case, Lia. Why did you think of a Taser?”

“Well.” She still seems disturbed by my revelation. I’m not ready to go public with my theory tying the Chicago bomber to Darwin and his other crimes. I can’t risk the Bureau shutting down my work.

Shit, I just screwed up.

“Well, I’d have to agree—this doesn’t look anything like a Taser wound. For one thing, a Taser dart has a barb on one side, so it can latch on—hook into the skin, so to speak, not terribly different than hooking a fish. And when you remove the barb, the hook, you can’t help but reinjure the skin, even when it’s done in a clinical setting. I see none of that here. These are pinhole punctures, Emmy. These are punctures made by a needle.

“And Tasers conduct electricity. Bruising aside, we typically see burn marks on the periphery of the external wound. The punctures on our decedent’s torso are not the size of a traditional Taser dart and do not share the same characteristics of a wound caused by a traditional Taser dart.”

I sit back in my chair and look at Rabbit, who shrugs.

“But a Taser is the only thing that would make sense,” she continues. “If this was a homicide—if—then the offender wrapped a plastic bag over the decedent’s head or forced plastic wrap over his face while the decedent held perfectly still.”

“Perfectly still,” I mumble.

“Perfectly still, or at least not resisting. That’s nearly impossible to imagine unless he was subdued in some way. And if he was subdued by a chemical, I’d have found it. He must have been temporarily paralyzed by a Taser. The offender probably had to stun him more than once.”

“So he built his own custom-made Taser,” I say.

“Yes. A taser with darts like needles, no hooks. And something that prevents electrical burning around the wound. My guess—I don’t know, Emmy, I’d be going far out on a limb here with my speculation.”

But that’s Darwin’s brilliance. Nobody would believe it. Nobody would go that far out on a limb, not even to speculate.

“Please,” I beg her. “Speculate. I’ll take your best guess.”

She nods. “My guess is that the end of the dart is a needle, but then it has some kind of stopper that holds the needle in place. And it’s made of some nonconductive material, so it prevents the electrical burn from penetrating the outer skin.”

“So it won’t look like a Taser-dart injury.”

Lia waves her hand. “Well, it certainly doesn’t look like a Taser-dart injury. So, yes, in this hypothetical—that would be the offender’s plan.”

Rabbit puts her face in her hands. I know the feeling.

“I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to design something like that,” Lia says, “so I couldn’t tell you if it’s even possible. Like I said, I’m well over my skis on this.”

“But when you’re briefing the FBI later, your best guess is natural causes. COPD.”

“That’s correct.” She gives me a faint smile. “Why do I have the feeling I’m disappointing you?”

“No, not at all.” I assure her that the facts are all that matter.

“Look, if you have information on other deaths, I’d be happy to compare results.”

“Can we just strike that part from our unofficial record, Lia? I’m not ready to put that out there yet.”

“Sure, of course. Well, okay.” She claps her hands. “I don’t think this was murder, Emmy—but if it was, this offender is more meticulous and careful than any I’ve ever seen.”

“Including Graham?” I ask.

“Graham couldn’t fool a forensic pathologist,” she says. “This guy can. Even if you catch him, you’ll never convict him.”

68

I STARE at the grainy image frozen on my screen, at the man in the wheelchair. A wheelchair!

Nobody would ever suspect a man in a wheelchair of being