The Empty Chair

Now the Northerner got to roll his eyes. "Oh, come on," Geberth snapped, as if the D.A. were a slow student. "What it means is that Corn was operating outside his jurisdiction as a law-enforcer and that when he confronted Garrett he was a felon and armed and dangerous. Jim Bell admitted they were pla

The judge's eyes swept from left to right slowly as he watched this unprecedented te

The prosecutor: "I can only focus on the crime at hand. Whether Jesse Corn was going to kill anybody or not doesn't matter."

Geberth shook his head slowly. The lawyer said to the court reporter, "We're suspending the deposition. This is off the record." Then, to the prosecutor: "What's the point of proceeding? Corn was a killer."

Rhyme joined in, speaking to the prosecutor. "You take this to trial and what do you think the jury's going to feel when we show the victim was a crooked cop pla

Geberth continued, "You don't want this notch on your grip. You've got Bell, you've got his brother-in-law, the coroner…"

Before the prosecutor could protest again Rhyme looked up at him and said in a soft voice, "I'll help you."

"What?" the prosecutor asked.

"You know who's behind all this, don't you? You know who's killing half the residents of Ta

"Henry Davett," the prosecutor said. "I've read the filings and depos."

Rhyme asked, "And how's the case against him?"

"Not good. There's no evidence. There's no link between him and Bell or anybody else in town. He used middlemen and they're all stonewalling or out of the jurisdiction."

"But," Rhyme said, "don't you want to nail him – before any more people die of cancer? Before more children get sick and kill themselves? Before more babies are born with birth defects?"

"Of course I want to."

"Then you need me. You won't find a criminalist anywhere in the state who can bring Davett down. I can." Rhyme glanced at Sachs. He could see tears in her eyes. He knew that the only thought in her mind now was that, whether they sent her to jail or not, she hadn't killed an i

The prosecutor sighed deeply. Then nodded. Quickly, as if he might change his mind, he said, "Deal." He looked at the bench. "Your Honor, in the case of the People versus Sachs, the state is withdrawing all charges."

"So ordered," said the bored judge. "Defendant is free to go. Next case." He didn't even bother to bang down his gavel.

45

"I didn't know whether you'd show up," Lincoln Rhyme said.

He was, in fact, surprised.

"Wasn't sure I was going to either," Sachs replied.

They were in his hospital room at the medical center in Avery.

He said, "I just got back from visiting Thom on the fifth floor. That's pretty odd – I'm more mobile than he is."

"How is he?"

"He'll be fine. He should be out in a day or two. I told him he was about to see physical therapy from a whole new angle. He didn't laugh."

A pleasant Guatemalan woman – the temporary caregiver – sat in the corner, knitting a yellow-and-red shawl. She seemed to be weathering Rhyme's moods though he believed that this was because she didn't understand English well enough to appreciate his sarcasm and insults.

"You know, Sachs," Rhyme said, "when I heard you'd busted Garrett out of detention it half occurred to me you'd done it to give me a chance to rethink the operation."

A smile curved her Julia Roberts lips. "Maybe there was a bit of that."

"So you're here now to talk me out of it?"

She rose from the chair and walked to the window. "Pretty view."

"Peaceful, isn't it? Fountain and garden. Plants. Don't know what kind."

"Lucy could tell you. She knows plants the way Garrett knows bugs. Excuse me, insects. A bug is only one type of insect… No, Rhyme, I'm not here to talk you out of it. I'm here to be with you now and to be in the recovery room when you wake up."

"Change of heart?"

She turned to him. "When Garrett and I were on the run he was telling me about something he read in that book of his. The Miniature World."

"I have a new respect for dung beetles after reading it," Rhyme said.

"There was something he showed me, a passage. It was a list of the characteristics of living creatures. One of them was that healthy creatures strive to grow and to adapt to the environment. I realized that's something you have to do, Rhyme – have this surgery. I can't interfere with it."

After a moment he said, "I know it's not going to cure me, Sachs. But what's the nature of our business? It's little victories. We find a fiber here, a partial latent friction ridge there, a few grains of sand that might lead to the killer's house. That's all I'm after here – a little improvement. I'm not climbing out of this chair, I know that. But I need a little victory."

Maybe the chance to hold your hand for real.

She bent down, kissed him hard, then sat on the bed.

"What's that look, Sachs? You seem a bit coy."

"That passage in Garrett's book?"

"Right."

"There was another characteristic of living creatures I wanted to mention."

"Which is?" he asked.

"All living creatures strive to continue the species."

Rhyme grumbled, "Do I sense another plea bargain here? A deal of some kind?"

She said, "Maybe we can talk about some things when we get back to New York."

A nurse appeared in the doorway. "I need to take you to pre-op, Mr. Rhyme. You ready for a ride?"

"Oh, you bet I am…" He turned back to Sachs. "Sure, we'll talk."

She kissed him again and squeezed his left hand, where he could, just faintly, feel the pressure in his ring finger.

The two women sat side by side in a thick shaft of sunlight.

Two paper cups of very bad vending-machine coffee were in front of them, perched on an orange table covered with brown burn marks from the days when smoking had been permitted in hospitals.

Amelia Sachs glanced at Lucy Kerr, who sat forward, hands together, subdued.

"What's up?" Sachs asked her. "You all right?"

The deputy hesitated then finally said, "Oncology's on the next wing over. I spent months there. Before and after the operation." She shook her head. "I never told anybody this but the Thanksgiving Day after Buddy left me I came here. Just hung out. Had coffee and tuna sandwiches with the nurses. Isn't that a kick? I could've gone to see my parents and cousins in Raleigh for turkey and dressing. Or my sister in Martinsville and her husband – Ben's parents. But I wanted to be where I felt at home. Which sure wasn't in my house."

Sachs said, "When my father was dying my mom and I spent three holidays in the hospital. Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's. Pop made a joke. He said we had to make our Easter reservations early. He didn't live that long, though."

"Your mom's still alive?"

"Oh, yeah. She gets around better than I do. I got Pop's arthritis. Only in spades." Sachs nearly made a joke about that being why she was such a good shot – so she wouldn't have to run down the perps. But then she thought of Jesse Corn, flashed back to the dot of the bullet on his forehead, and she remained silent.

Lucy said, "He'll be all right, you know. Lincoln."

"No, I don't know," Sachs responded.

"I've got a feeling. When you've been through as much as I have – in hospitals, I mean – you get a feeling."

"Appreciate that," Sachs said.