Think, Cataldo! Think!John Cooper possessed used tennis shoes issued to offenders by the Department of Corrections. But they were not the shoes that had made the impressions at Sister Anne’s murder scene. That ruled him out.Okay, but she’d seen that pattern recently in another open file.Hadn’t she?Yes.But where? Where, damn it? She struggled to retrieve it from her memory and her computer, gulping coffee while searching her files. Something blurred by.Stop.This one.Sharla May Forrest.The teen hooker.This was the one.Cataldo examined the crime-scene pictures. There was Sharla May, the runaway, naked on the ground in a back alley with a metal hanger garrotted around her neck. She was so young. It broke Cataldo’s heart. There was the Dumpster, the trash, and the semidry mud puddle that had captured a partial right shoe impression.Here we go.She called up the cast and the image filled her computer monitor. Very familiar. This is looking very familiar. She called up the file notes, read through them, then called up the image of the shoe impression.“Hold on,”
