The Empty Chair

"That's not evidence, Sachs. That's his strategy. It's psychological warfare, trying to break down our defenses. The boy's smart, remember. High IQ, good grades. And look at his reading matter. It's heady stuff – he's learned a lot from the insects. And one thing about them is that they have no moral code. All they care about is surviving. Those are the lessons he's learned. That's been his child development. It's sad, but it's not our problem."

"You know that trap he set. The pine-bough trap?"

Rhyme nodded.

"It was only two feet deep. And the hornets' nest inside? It was empty. No wasps. And the ammonia bottle wasn't rigged to hurt anybody. It was just so he'd have some warning when a search party was getting close to the mill."

"That's not empirical evidence, Sachs. Like the bloody tissue, for instance."

"He said he had been masturbating. And that Mary Beth hit her head and he wiped the wound with it. Anyway, if he raped her what would be the point of a tissue?"

"To clean up afterward."

"Doesn't fit any rape profile I know."

Rhyme quoted himself, from the foreword of his criminalistics textbook, "'A profile is a guide. Evidence is -'"

"- 'God,'" she completed the quotation. "Okay, then – there were plenty of footprints at the scene. Remember, it was trampled. Some of those might've been the overall man's."

"There are no other prints on the murder weapon."

"He claims the man wore gloves," she countered.

"But no leather grain prints either."

"Could've been cloth. Let me test it and -"

"'Could have, could have…' Come on, Sachs, this is pure speculation."

"But you should've heard him when he was talking about Mary Beth. He was concerned about her."

"He was acting. What's my number-one rule?"

"You have a lot of number-one rules," she muttered.

He continued unfazed, "You can't trust witnesses."

"He thinks he loves her, he cares for her. He really believes he's protecting her."

A man's voice interrupted. "Oh, he is protecting her." Sachs and Rhyme looked to the doorway. It was Dr. Elliott Pe

Sachs introduced them.

"I wanted to meet you, Lincoln," Dr. Pe

"Bert's a good friend," Rhyme said. "Just appointed head of Chicago PD Forensics."

Dr. Pe

"What did you mean just then, about protecting her from himself?" Sachs asked cynically. "Some kind of multiple personality crap?"

"No," replied the doctor, not at all troubled by her abrasive skepticism. "There's definitely some mental or emotional disturbance at work but it's nothing as exotic as multiple personalities. Garrett knows exactly what he did to Mary Beth and Billy Stail. I'm pretty sure he's hidden her someplace to keep her away from Blackwater Landing, where he probably did kill those other people over the past couple of years. And scared – what was his name? – the Wilkes boy into killing himself. I think he was pla

"I hope you're not billing the defense," Sachs said acerbically, "if that's your sympathetic testimony."

Dr. Pe

"I don't think he killed the boy. And I think the kidnapping's not as black-and-white as we're making it."

Dr. Pe

"Sachs," Rhyme said, "what's the point? This isn't our game anymore."

She ignored him and his piercing eyes. "But, Doctor -"

The doctor held up a hand. "Can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"Do you have children?"

A hesitation. "No," she responded. "Why?"

"You understandably feel sympathy for him – I think we all do – but you might be confusing that with some latent maternal sense."

"What does that mean?"

The doctor continued, "I mean that if you have some desire to have children yourself you might not be able to take an objective view about a sixteen-year-old boy's i

"I can take a perfectly objective role," she snapped. "There's just too much that doesn't add up. Garrett's motives don't make sense, he -"

"Motives are the weak leg of the evidentiary stool, Sachs, you know that."

"I don't need any more maxims, Rhyme," she snapped.

The criminalist sighed in frustration, glanced at the clock.

Dr. Pe

She lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, I think you can help him," the doctor said. "The best thing you can do is to just spend some time with him. The county'll assign a caseworker to liaise with the guardian the court appoints and you'll have to get their approval but I'm sure it can be arranged. He might even open up with you about Mary Beth."

As she was considering this Thom appeared in the doorway. "Van's outside, Lincoln."

Rhyme glanced at the map one last time and then turned toward the doorway. "'Once more into the breach, dear friends.'"

Jim Bell walked into the room and rested his hand on Rhyme's insensate arm. "We're organizing a search of the Outer Banks. With a little luck we'll have her in a few days. Listen, I can't thank you enough, Lincoln."

Rhyme deflected the gratitude with a nod and wished the sheriff good luck.

"I'll come visit you at the hospital, Lincoln," Ben said. "I'll bring some scotch. When're they going to let you start drinking again?"

"Not soon enough."

"I'll help Ben finish up," Sachs told him. Bell said to her, "We'll get you a ride over to Avery." She nodded. "Thanks. I'll be there soon, Rhyme." But the criminalist had, it seemed, already departed from Ta

Fifteen minutes later they had most of the forensic equipment put away and Sachs sent Ben Kerr home, thanking him for his volunteer efforts.

In his wake Jesse Corn had appeared at Sachs' side. She wondered if he'd been staking out the corridor, waiting for a chance to catch her alone.