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sixty-three-year-old man and a fourteen-year-old girl would have in common as sexual targets.”
    â€œAll that’s true,” said Isaac. “But don’t you think the other factors are too blatant to be ignored?”
    Petra’s head began hurting. “You’ve obviously put a lot of time into this and I’m not dismissing it, but—”
    â€œWhy,” he interrupted, “does there have to be a sexual angle?”
    â€œThat’s the way it tends to shake out.”
    â€œThe FBI profile. Yes, yes, I know about all of that. Their basic thesis is that what they call organized killers—really just a dumbed-down version of what psychologists call psychopaths—are motivated by a combination of sexuality and violence. I’m sure that typically there’s some truth to that. But as you said, Detective, reality depends on which prism you’re using. The FBI interviewed imprisoned killers and compiled data banks. But data are only as good as the sample, and who says killers who get caught are similar to those who don’t? Maybe the FBI’s bad guys got caught because they were psychologically rigid. Maybe it was their predictability that tripped them up.”
    His voice had climbed. Heat in the brown eyes made them something quite other than liquid. “All I’m saying is that sometimes exceptions are more important than rules.”
    â€œWhat motive are you proposing for these killings?” said Petra.
    Long pause. “I don’t know.”
    Neither of them spoke. Isaac slumped. “Okay, thanks for your time.” He scooped up the list and stashed it in the shiny brown briefcase he carried around. Petra had seen detectives smile disparagingly at the case. She’d heard the comments behind Isaac’s back.
Brainiac. Boy wonder. Petra’s little day-care project.
When she felt assertive, she silenced the noise with an icy stare.
    Now she found herself feeling protective of the kid but annoyed. The last thing she needed was some theory that got her dredging up six years of cold cases. Not with four victims down at the Paradiso, one of them a girl she couldn’t even identify.
    On the other hand, Isaac was smarter than she was, much smarter. Dismissing him out of hand could turn out to be one of those
big
mistakes. And what if he went over her head to Schoelkopf—to Councilman Reyes. If that happened and he turned out to be right . . .
    Headlines danced in her head.
Young Wizard Uncovers Unsolved Killings.
The text:
LAPD detective failed to investigate . . .
    Isaac got to his feet. “Sorry for wasting your time. Is there something I can do for you? On your main case?”
    â€œMy main case?”
    â€œThe Paradiso. I’ve heard it’s been tough going.”
    â€œHave you?” she said. Hearing the chill in her voice, she coerced her lips to form a smile of her own. Stratospheric I.Q. or not, he was a kid. An overly enthusiastic, pain-in-the-butt politically
connected
kid. “It’s been a tough one,” she agreed. “All those kids mowed down, no one willing to talk. What could you do for me?”
    â€œI don’t know,” he said. “Maybe look at the data.” Now he was blushing again. “That was totally presumptuous of me. You’re the professional, what do I know? Sorry, I won’t bother you again—”
    â€œDo you know anything about pink Kmart sneakers?”
    â€œPardon?”
    She told him about the unidentified girl.
    His posture relaxed. Thinking—analyzing—did that to him. “You’re thinking she might’ve been the intended victim and the others were innocent bystanders?”
    â€œAt this point, Isaac, I’m not thinking anything. I just think it’s odd that no one’s come forth to I.D. her.”
    â€œHmm . . . yes, that would imply some kind of . . . turmoil in her background. . . . It sounds as if you took the shoe-thing as far