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The first book in the CSI: New York series, 2005

"Do you own another gun?" asked Mac.

Louisa Cormier looked mildly amused. "No."

"Have you ever fired a gun?"

"Yes, as part of my research. My character Pat Fantome is an ex-police officer with a very good aim. I think it helps to know how it feels to fire a gun. I go to Drietch's Range on Fifty-eighth."

"We'll find it," said Mac. "One more question. Do you have any idea how Lutnikov's blood got on the carpet outside your elevator door?"

"No. I'm really a suspect, aren't I?" She seemed pleased by the possibility.

"Yes," said Mac. "But so are all your neighbors."

With thanks to Bruce Whitehead and the Crime Scene Investigation Unit of the Sarasota, Florida, County Sheriff's Office; to Lee Lofland, Denene Lofland, and Dr. D. P. Lyle for their forensic knowledge and willingness to share it with me; and to Hugo Parrilla, retired Detective N.Y.P.D. 24th Squad, for sharing his knowledge of New York City.

IT WAS A NIGHT FOR DREAMING.

It was the beginning of February, the coldest time of the year in New York, always the coldest. Don't let them tell you about the storms of January or the surprise downfalls and frigid blasts from Canada that come down sometimes as early as early November and as late as late March.

No, you could count on February being the most unforgiving month of the year. And this one was particularly spiteful.

The temperature teased thermometers at the zero level. The winds played angrily, howling through ghostly empty streets in the five boroughs. The snow fell steadily, relentlessly, siltlike, no good for packing or making snowballs when Saturday morning came in a few hours.