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scandalized and spread her hands in a ‘What?’ gesture. I shrugged and the Inspector said, “Where are you? Are you back yet?”

“We literally just this very moment got off the plane.”

“Good. As soon as you get to the precinct, come up and see me.”

“About eight tomorrow morning, sir?”

There was a long silence, then a slight wheezing noise. “Oh… I see… I didn’t get it at first. Very funny. I didn’t realize, John, that you had a sense of humor. Very good. I’ll see you in about forty minutes.” As he hung up I heard him mutter, “What a character…”

I slammed the trunk and climbed in behind the wheel. We drove in sleepy silence out of the airport complex, but as we were joining the Van Wyck Expressway headed north, Dehan, who was sitting with her arms crossed and her brows knitted, shifted in her seat to look at me. Outside, everything seemed to be various shades of gray, and frosted, like a Christmas cake smothered in soot.

“What’s up?” she demanded. “That’s not like you at all.”

“What isn’t?”

“Wanting to go home when we’re wrapping up a case. Usually you’re a pain in the ass who won’t let anybody rest.”

I made a face that suggested she was making a big deal out of very little. “I figure the case has been cold for twelve years, we can take a few hours to catch up on sleep.”

But even as I was saying it, the words were troubling me. She was right. Something was nagging at my mind. Something that was not good. We sped past two large trucks that were spitting sludge and spray from their wheels and I became aware that I had started accelerating without realizing it. Dehan said:

“Wait a minute. You’ve… son of a gun! You solved it, didn’t you? You know what happened!”

I glanced at her, only partly aware of what she was saying. After a while I said, “Yes…”

“When?”

“Yesterday, at the library. But there were things I needed to confirm. I confirmed them in Reno. But there is something troubling me, Dehan.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Stone? It’s not nice when you do this. We’re supposed to share, you know?”

I nodded. Chewing my lip. “I know. I was wrong…”

“At least you can admit it. So tell me, what happened.”

“No, I mean I was wrong about the case. It’s not finished yet. We need to… God damn it!”

I floored the pedal and hit 110MPH through Queens, crossed the Bronx-Whitestone Bridge into Throggs Neck and five minutes later, I was skidding to a halt outside the station house on Fteley Avenue. As we climbed the stairs to the inspector’s office, Dehan said, “OK, you scared me half to death by doing a hundred and ten in a sixty-eight-year-old car in the sleet and snow, now you want to tell me what the hell…”

I interrupted her. “Put it together, Dehan! Marion, Mary, Xara, Jose Rodriguez, Fernando…”

I ran up the remaining stairs. She called after me: “What?”

I called over my shoulder, “I can’t explain now. There’s no time!”

I knocked and pushed in without waiting for a reply. The inspector looked up from his desk. “Ah, John, Carmen…”

She was coming through the door. I said, “Is it Fernando Martinez?”

He frowned and blinked. Then his eyebrows arched. “Good Lord, John, how on Earth…?”

Dehan closed the door and said sourly, “Don’t bother, sir. He won’t tell you.”

“Sit down, both of you, please. I am keen to hear about your trip to Sacramento…and Reno! But first I need to tell you. As you requested, I had Fernando Martinez and Giorgio Gonzalez run through the system to see if they had any priors out of state. Your hunch was good. Not Giorgio, but Fernando. He is wanted on several charges of violence against women, in Texas, New Mexico and Arizona. The offenses range from assault and assault with a deadly weapon to attempted rape and rape. His latest brush with the law was in New Jersey. A complaint was made by a prostitute at a club in Newark. She claimed he beat her up, but she later dropped the charges.”

“I knew it!” Dehan balled her fist and punched me on the shoulder. “I knew it!”

The inspector made a face of bemusement and gave a small laugh. “There is the small matter of the DNA sample…”

She was already shaking her head. “We have a theory that could explain that, sir…”

“You have…?”

He turned and watched me pull out my phone. I dialed. It rang once and Frank said, “I was about to call you.”

“That’s what they all say, but they never call. Listen, did you find anything on the semen distribution?”

I watched the inspector frown at Dehan. Frank said, “That’s what I was going to call you about.” I put him on speaker phone and placed the phone on the desk. “You have to understand that this is not enough to clinch a case, John. With other evidence, it can be persuasive. The fact is I did that autopsy myself. I don’t remember it, but they are my notes. You’re lucky I am thorough in my work, and I did notice that the semen was not pooled at the end but, in fact, smeared around the walls of the vagina. Now, that can be caused by several things, amongst them very energetic or athletic intercourse. However, it is consistent with the scenario you proposed, where semen collected in a condom is then introduced into the victim’s vagina in order to frame somebody else.”

There was a moment’s silence. “Thanks, Frank. I understand. I’ll be in touch.”

He hung up and we sat staring at the inspector, who sat staring back at us. After a moment, he heaved a deep sigh and slumped back in his chair. Dehan said, “We should contact some of his victims,

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