The Devils Teardrop by Jeffery Deaver Page B

developed as a way to visualize fingerprints on documents. But the device turned out to be largely useless for that purpose because it also raised indented writing, which obscured any latent prints. In TV shows the detective rubs a pencil over the sheet to visualize the indented writing. In real life it would be malpractice for a document examiner to do this; it would probably destroy most indented writing. The ESDA machine, which works like a photocopier, reveals lettering that was written as many as ten sheets above the document being tested.
    No one quite knows why the ESDA works so efficiently but no document examiner is without one. Once, after a wealthy banker died, Parker was hired to analyze a will that disinherited his children and left his entire estate to a young maid. Parker was very close to authenticating the document. The signatures looked perfect, the dates of the will and the codicils were logical. But his last test—the ESDA—revealed indented writing that said, “This one ought to fool the pricks.” The maid confessed to hiring someone to forge the will.
    Parker now ran the unsub’s note through the machine. He lifted a plastic sheet off the top and examined it.
    Nothing.
    He tried the envelope. He lifted off the thin sheet and held it up to the light. He felt a bang in his gut when he saw the delicate gray lines of writing.
    “Yes!” he said excitedly. “We’ve got something.”
    Lukas leaned forward and Parker smelled a faint floral scent. Perfume? No. He’d known her for only an hour but he’d decided that she was not the perfume sort. It was probably scented soap.
    “We’ve got a couple of indentations,” Parker said. “The unsub wrote something on a piece of paper that was on top of the envelope.”
    Parker held the electrostatic sheet in both hands and moved it around to make the writing more visible. “Okay, somebody write this down. First word. Lowercase c-l-e , then a space. Uppercase M, lowercase e. Nothing after that.”
    Cage wrote the letters on a yellow pad and looked at it. “What’s it mean?” The agent gave a perplexed shrug.
    C. P. tugged a pierced earlobe and said, “Don’t have a clue.”
    Geller: “If it’s not bits and bytes I’m helpless.”
    Lukas too shook her head.
    But Parker took one look at the letters and knew immediately. He was surprised no one else could see it.
    “It’s the first crime scene.”
    “What do you mean?” Jerry Baker asked.
    “Sure,” Lukas said. “Dupont C-i-r-c-l-e, capital M— Metro.”
    “Of course,” Hardy whispered.
    Puzzles are always easy when you know the answer.
    “The first site,” Parker mused. “But there’s something written below it. Can you see it? Can you read it?” He jockeyed the sheet again, holding it out to Lukas. “Jesus, it’s hard to see.”
    She leaned forward and read. “Just three letters. That’s all I can make out. Lowercase t-e-l. ”
    “Anything else?” Hardy asked.
    Parker squinted. “No, nothing.”
    “ t-e-l ,” Lukas pondered.
    “Telephone, telephone company, telecommunications?” Cage asked. “Television?”
    C. P. offered, “Maybe he’s going to hit one of the studios—during a broadcast.”
    “No, no,” Parker said. “Look at the position of the letters in relation to the c-l-e M-e. If he’s writing in fairly consistent columns then the t-e-l comes at the end of the word.” Then Parker caught on. He said, “It’s a—”
    Lukas blurted, “Hotel. The second target’s a hotel.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Or motel,” Hardy suggested.
    “No,” Parker said. “I don’t think so. He’s going for crowds. Motels don’t have big facilities. All the events tonight will be in hotel banquet rooms.”
    “And,” Lukas added, “he’s probably sticking to foot or public transportation. Motels’re in outlying areas. Traffic’s too bad tonight to rely on a car.”
    “Great,” Cage said then pointed out, “but there must be two hundred hotels in town.”
    “How