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Dawson asked.
    Jordan put his hand in his pocket and took out his cellphone. He started tapping quickly, every now and again raising his head to check the numbers. Only when he had confirmed his intuition did he look at them and say, ‘It’s an SMS dialling system. The telephone software recognizes the possible words from the keys pressed and reconstructs them without needing every letter.’
    He approached the wall and pointed to the last two figures.
    ‘There, you see? The last two numbers are in a square. Thinking of the position of the body and the numbers, I knew there must be a connection between them. I punched in those numbers and this is what came out.’
    Jordan held up the open cellphone. On the display screen was a sentence:
     
    the doctor is in
     
    The three men all looked questioningly at him.
    Anyone who knew him well would have understood that now Jordan wasn’t so much talking to them as thinking aloud.
    ‘The victim was placed in a position intended to recall Linus, the character from
Peanuts
who sucks his thumb and holds his comfort blanket against his ear.’
    Jordan indicated the sentence on the phone display.
    ‘These words are used by another
Peanuts
character – Lucy, the elder sister of Linus – whenever she sets up her psychiatric booth.’
    Burroni was looking at him with what was meant to be a superior air, but his tone of voice when he spoke betrayed his admiration. ‘And what do you think that means?’
    Jordan put the cellphone back in the pocket of his leather jacket. ‘I don’t think the killer ever thought the message he left on the wall would be difficult to decipher. The pattern is so simple that any program used by the police or the FBI would have been able to decode it in a few seconds.’
    Jordan took out a cigarette – a single cigarette, not the pack – lit it and took a drag.
    ‘No, I think this was a kind of game for the murderer, a little joke to show us—’
    Jordan broke off abruptly.
I’m not a lieutenant any more, Rodriguez
. . .
    ‘To show
you
his next move.’
    None of the others seemed to have noticed that little correction.
    Christopher took a step forward. ‘What exactly do you mean?’ he asked.
    ‘The killer arranged his body to look like a
Peanuts
character,’ Jordan explained. ‘It’s likely that the next victim will be treated the same way.’
    Without realizing it, Jordan had taken the situation in hand and the others were hanging on his every word.
    ‘I don’t know who this next victim is, but if I’m right, two things are very likely. The first is that it’s a woman . . .’
    ‘And the second?’ Christopher prompted.
    ‘The second is that, in the killer’s twisted mind, she’s Lucy.’

CHAPTER 6
     
    Lysa Guerrero was pushed slightly forward as the train stopped with a hissing of brakes. They had arrived at Grand Central Station, and Grand Central Station meant New York. A new city, more indifferent people, and another apartment full of furniture she hadn’t chosen herself. But the choice was hers. It was a new start.
    She stood up and, as she got her case down from the rack above her head, her long wavy hair moved as if alive. Out of the corner of her eye, Lysa caught a dreamy expression on the face of the man who had been sitting opposite her for part of the journey, a boy of about eight by his side, peeking at her whenever he thought she couldn’t see. He was an average-looking man, the kind who wore a tie with a fake knot and a sleeveless shirt under his jacket. He seemed intimidated by her beauty, and the only time their eyes had met he had gratefully taken refuge in the answers that his son’s questions demanded.
    Lysa winked at him.
    She saw him blush as red as a shrimp and immediately turn his attention to the backpack his son was having difficulty putting on by himself.
    Lysa got off the train and walked along the platform, following the signs to the exit, indifferent to all the looks she was getting. There was nobody