The Empty Chair (Lincoln Rhyme 3)

"When have those ever meant anything to you?"

A shrug. "They're going to be pumping me full of who knows what kind of crap. I didn't think it would be smart to add to the cocktail in my bloodstream."

"It wouldn't've been. You're right. But you paid attention to your doctor. I'm proud of you."

"Oh, pride--now there's a helpful emotion."

But Thom was a waterfowl to Rhyme's rain. He continued, "But I want to say something."

"You're going to anyway whether I want you to or not."

"I've read a lot about this, Lincoln. The procedure."

"Oh, have you? On your time, I hope."

"I just want to say that if it doesn't work this time, we'll come back. Next year. Two years. Five years. It'll work then."

The sentiment within Lincoln Rhyme was as dead as his spinal cord but he managed: "Thank you, Thom. Now, where the hell is that doctor? I've been hard at work catching psychotic kidnappers for these people. I think they'd be treating me a little better than this."

Thom said, "She's only ten minutes late, Lincoln. And we did change the appointment twice today."

"It's closer to twenty minutes. Ah, here we go."

The door to the hospital room swung open. And Rhyme looked up, expecting to see Dr. Weaver. But it wasn't the surgeon.

Sheriff Jim Bell, his face dotted with sweat, walked inside. In the corridor behind him was his brother-in-law, Steve Farr. Both men were clearly upset.

The criminalist's first thought was that they'd found Mary Beth's body. That the boy had in fact killed her. And his next thought was how badly Sachs would react to this news, having had her faith in the boy shattered.

But Bell had different news. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Lincoln." And Rhyme knew the message was something closer to him personally than just Garrett Hanlon and Mary Beth McConnell. "I was going to call," the sheriff said. "But then I figured you should hear it from somebody in person. So I came."

"What, Jim?" he asked.

"It's Amelia."

"What?" Thom asked.

"What about her?" Rhyme couldn't, of course, feel his heart pounding in his chest but he could sense the blood surge through his chin and temples. "What? Tell me!"

"Rich Culbeau and those buddies of his went by the lockup. I don't know what they had in mind exactly--probably no good--but anyway, what they found was my deputy, Nathan, cuffed, in the front office. And the cell was empty."

"Cell?"

"Garrett's cell," Bell continued, as if this explained everything.

Rhyme still didn't understand the significance. "What--"

In a gruff voice the sheriff said, "Nathan said that your Amelia trussed him up at gunpoint and broke Garrett outa jail. It's a felony escape. They're on the run, they're armed and nobody has a clue where they are."

III

Knuckle Time

... chapter twenty-three

Running.

As best she could. Her legs ached from the waves of arthritic pain coursing through her body. She was drenched in sweat and was already dizzy from the heat and dehydration.