Sachs tossed the veil of red hair from her eyes and said, "Your career was law enforcement, remember. Suicide's illegal."
"It's a sin too," he responded. "The Dakota Indians believed that the ghosts of those who committed suicide had to drag around the tree they'd hanged themselves from for all eternity. Did that stop suicide? Nope. They just used small trees."
"Tell you what, Rhyme. Here's my last argument." She nodded at Berger, grabbed the cuff chain. "I'm taking him in and booking him. Refute that one."
"Lincoln," Berger said uneasily, panic in his eyes.
Sachs took the doctor by the shoulder and led him to the door. "No," he said. "Please. Don't do this."
As Sachs opened the door Rhyme called out, "Sachs, before you do that, answer me something."
She paused. One hand on the knob.
"One question."
She looked back.
"Have you ever wanted to? Kill yourself?"
She unlocked the door with a loud snap.
He said, "Answer me!"
Sachs didn't open the door. She stood with her back to him. "No. Never."
"Are you happy with your life?"
"As much as anybody."
"You're never depressed?"
"I didn't say that. I said I've never wanted to kill myself."
"You like to drive, you were telling me. People who like to drive like to drive fast. You do, don't you?"
"Yes. Sometimes."
"What's the fastest you've done?"
"I don't know."
"Over eighty?"
A dismissing smile. "Yes."
"Over a hundred?"
She gestured upward with her thumb.
"One ten? One twenty?" he asked, smiling in astonishment.
"Clocked at 168."
"My, Sachs, you are impressive. Well, driving that fast, didn't you think that maybe, just maybe, something might happen. A rod or axle or something would break, a tire would blow, a spot of oil on the road?"
"It was pretty safe. I'm not crazy."
"Pretty safe. But driving as fast as a small plane, well, that's not completely safe, now, is it?"