But there was no hint of where they ought to be moving to and as Sachs looked down the choked paths it seemed impossible that anyone, even Lincoln Rhyme, could figure out where their prey had gone.
Then her cell phone rang and both Lucy and Jesse Corn looked at her expectantly, hoping, as did Sachs, that Rhyme had come up with a new suggestion about which way to go.
Sachs answered, listened to the criminalist and then nodded. Hung up. She took a breath and looked at the three deputies.
"What?" asked Jesse Corn.
"Lincoln and Jim just heard from the hospital about Ed Schaeffer. Looks like he woke up long enough to say, 'I love my kids,' and then he died .... They thought he'd said something earlier about 'Olive' Street but it turned out he was just trying to say 'I love.' That's all he said. I'm so sorry."
"Oh, Jesus," Ned muttered.
Lucy lowered her head and Jesse put his arm around her shoulders. "What do we do now?" he asked.
Lucy looked up. Sachs could see tears in her eyes. "We're gonna get that boy, that's what," she said with a grim determination. "We're going to pick the most logical path and keep in that direction till we find him. And we're going to go fast. That all right with you?" she asked Sachs, who had no problem momentarily yielding command to the deputy.
"You bet it is."
... chapter fifteen
Lydia had seen this look in men's eyes a hundred times.
A need. A desire. A hunger.
Sometimes, a pointless itch. Sometimes, an inept expression of love.
This big girl, with stringy hair, a spotted face in her teens and a pocked face now, believed she had little to offer men. But she knew too that they would, for a few years at least, ask one thing from her and she'd decided long ago that to get by in the world she would have to exploit the little power that she had. And so Lydia Johansson was now on a playing field that was very familiar to her.
They were back in the mill, in the dark office once again. Garrett was standing over her, his scalp glistening with sweat through the patchy crew cut. His erection was obvious through his slacks.
His eyes slid over her chest, where her soaked, translucent uniform had ripped open in her fall down the sluice (or had he done it when he grabbed her on the trail?), her bra strap snapped (or had he torn it?).
Lydia eased away from him, wincing at the pain in her ankle. Pressing against the wall, sitting, legs splayed, as she studied that look in the boy's eyes. Feeling a cold, spidery repulsion.
And yet she thought: Should I let him?
He was young. He'd come instantly and it would be over with. Maybe afterward he'd fall asleep and she could find that knife of his and cut her hands free. Then knock him out and tape him up.
But those red bony hands of his, his welty face next to her cheek, his disgusting breath and body stench.... How could she face it? Lydia closed her eyes momentarily. Uttered a prayer as insubstantial as her Blue Sunset eye shadow. Yes or no?
But any angels in the vicinity remained silent on this particular decision.
All she'd have to do was smile at him. He'd be inside her in a minute. Or she could take him into her mouth .... It wouldn't mean anything.
Fuck me fast then let's watch a movie. ... A joke between her boyfriend and her. She'd greet him at the door, in the red teddy she'd bought mail-order from Sears. She'd throw her arms around his shoulders and whisper those words to him.
You do this, she thought to herself, and you might be able to escape.
But I can't!
Garrett's eyes were locked on to her. Coursing over her body. His prick couldn't violate her any more thoroughly than his red eyes were doing right now. Jesus, he wasn't just an insect--he was a mutation out of one of Lydia's horror books, something that Dean Koontz or Stephen King could have made up.
Fingernails clicking.
He was examining her legs now, round and smooth--her best feature, she believed.
Garrett snapped, "Why're you crying? It's your fault you hurt yourself. You shouldn't've run. Let me see it." Nodding toward her swollen ankle.
"It's okay," Lydia said quickly but then, almost involuntarily, she held her foot out to him.