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The woman behind the desk had a beautiful face and long, lustrous blond hair that flowed over her shoulders. He wondered how much money and effort it took to keep her hair looking like that. Probably enough to feed a poor family in other parts of the world. Just the thought of it made him a little angry.
Ott stretched his neck to get a better view of the woman. He was hoping to read the name tag she wore on her blouse.
Then he got hold of himself. He returned his focus to the computer and started doing a little more research. He wanted to know more about this Michael Bennett before he did anything else. His idea to stir things up might have to wait.
Chapter 46
You know, I’ve lived in New York my whole life and I’ve never been in here before,” Brett Hollis said as we entered the library. He looked awestruck by the marble walls and high ceilings of the scholarly locale.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” I said. “As a tourist destination, it even makes a little money for the city.” And as we walked through the famous library, I felt a familiar pride and appreciation for this monument to learning.
I waited while Hollis phoned a tech agent from the NYPD, gathering a few more pieces of the puzzle. Then we continued on to the admin office, where we identified ourselves and were led to Carolyn Richard, a confident older black woman in charge of public services, such as the computer room. Ms. Richard was imposing and elegant, and as soon as I saw her, I thought, She could be one of the nuns from Holy Name—especially the way she had her arms folded across her chest when she told us to come in and sit down.
Ms. Richard said, “I assume you’re here about Yara Zunis.”
Is that the murder victim I just heard about from Hollis? I thought so but wasn’t sure, so I kept quiet, let her talk.
“Yara Zunis, one of our librarians. She and her boyfriend were victims of a terrible crime. They were both stabbed to death outside their home in East Harlem.”
That didn’t fit our killer’s MO—as far as we were aware, he only ever killed young women, not couples, and he never killed out in the open. Still, what were the chances that a serial killer uses a specific library’s computer and then one of that library’s staff is murdered? Was it just a horrible coincidence? Or could there be some sort of connection?
I gathered my thoughts and said, “My utmost condolences to you and your staff on the tragedy you’ve all suffered. But we’re actually here investigating an email that our cyber forensics team believe was sent from your computer room.”
“Oh my—is this related to that awful letter I read in the Daily News?” Carolyn Richard asked. She was a smart woman, and I could see her quickly reassessing the situation, even as I demurred, citing confidentiality issues.
During the walk to the computer room from her office, I asked Ms. Richard more about Yara Zunis.
“How long had she worked here at the library?”
“Yara was one of our newest and brightest,” she said, “a recent graduate from the prestigious Master of Library and Information Science program at Simmons University in Boston. She was making significant contributions. It’s such a terrible shame.”
She shook her head and sighed. “Is there anything you can tell me about the investigation into her murder? I know it’s not your case, but I assume there’s communication between precincts.”
“I’ll have the detectives handling the case get back to you,” I told her. I was pretty curious about it myself, to be honest. “For now, our primary concern is the email.”
Ms. Richard nodded, then said, “With all these murders in the city, I’ve been starting to wonder if our staff needs to commute using some kind of buddy system.”
The marble floor of the entrance hall gave way to the high marble walls of the periodical/computer room. The two young women working there immediately looked up when Ms. Richard entered.
I quickly scanned the room to get a sense of the security measures in place. I saw a few cameras, but they were mainly dummies. I wondered about the computer sign-in procedures.
I saw a quick movement to my right. I turned but caught only a glimpse of a man wearing a white, short-sleeved shirt and a tie leaving the room.
Why had he caught my attention? Call it instinct.
I glanced back to Hollis. He hadn’t seemed to notice the guy, and Ms. Richard was intent on introducing me to the blond woman behind the desk.
Even though the blonde was the person I needed to talk to about the email, I had to excuse myself. “We need to go talk to someone for a minute.”
I grabbed Hollis by the arm and pulled him with me out the door, saying, “I saw a man wearing a white, short-sleeved shirt and a tie. As soon as he saw us, he popped out of the room with his head ducked down.”
As Hollis kept pace, I added the kicker: “I have a strong feeling that we gotta find this guy and talk to him right away.”
Chapter 47
Set perimeters and start a methodical grid search. I knew the routine for searches, honed during my days as a uniformed officer in the Bronx and as a homicide detective, hunting everyone from drug suspects to bank robbers.
But that approach took manpower, at least twenty cops to do right. Right now it was just Hollis and me, and I was hesitant to call in reinforcements based on nothing more than my flimsy hunch and a fleeting image. Besides, it would take too long to get backup here and organized.
