The Empty Chair (Lincoln Rhyme 3) - Page 138

"It's high, Lincoln," Thom muttered, putting away the sphygmomanometer. Excessive blood pressure in a quad could lead to an attack of dysreflexia, which in turn could result in a stroke. But Rhyme didn't pay any attention. He was riding on pure energy. He wanted desperately to find Amelia. He wanted--

Rhyme looked up. Jim Bell, an alarmed expression on his face, walked through the doorway. Ben Kerr, equally upset, entered behind him.

"What happened?" Rhyme asked. "Is she all right? Is Amelia--"

"She killed Jesse," Bell said in a whisper. "Shot him in the head."

Thom froze. Glanced at Rhyme. The sheriff continued, "He was about to arrest Garrett. She shot him. They took off."

"No, it's impossible," Rhyme whispered. "There's a mistake. Somebody else did it."

But Bell was shaking his head. "No. Ned Spoto was there. He saw the whole thing.... I'm not saying she did it on purpose--Ned went for her and her gun went off--but it's still felony murder."

Oh, my God ...

Amelia ... second-generation cop, the Portable's Daughter. And now she'd killed one of her own. The worst crime a police officer could commit.

"This's way past us now, Lincoln. I've got to get the state involved."

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"Wait, Jim," Rhyme said urgently. "Please.... She's desperate now, she's scared. So's Garrett. You call in troopers, a lot more people're going to get hurt. They'll be gunning for them both."

"Well, apparently they oughta be gunning for them," Bell spat back. "And looks like they shoulda been from the git-go."

"I'll find them for you. I'm close." Rhyme nodded toward the evidence chart and map.

"I gave you one chance and look what happened."

"I'll find them and I'll talk her into surrendering. I know I can. I'll--"

Suddenly Bell was jostled aside and a man rushed into the room. It was Mason Germain. "You fucking son of a bitch!" he cried and made right for Rhyme. Thom stepped in the way but the deputy flung aside the thin man. He rolled to the floor. Mason grabbed Rhyme by the shirt. "You fucking freak! You come down here and play your little--"

"Mason!" Bell started forward but the deputy shoved him aside again.

"--play your little games with the evidence--your little puzzles. And now a good man's dead because of you!" Rhyme smelled the man's potent aftershave as the deputy drew his fist back. The criminalist cringed and turned his face away.

"I'm going to kill you. I'm going to--" But Mason's voice was choked off as a huge arm wrapped around his chest and he was lifted clean off the floor.

Ben Kerr carried the deputy away from Rhyme.

"Kerr, goddamn it, let go of me!" Mason gasped. "You asshole! You're under arrest!"

"Calm yourself down, Deputy," the big man said slowly.

Mason was reaching for his pistol but with his other hand Ben clamped down hard on the man's wrist. Ben looked at Bell, who waited a moment then nodded. Ben released the deputy, who stood back, fury in his eyes. He said to Bell, "I'm going out there and I'm finding that woman and I'm--"

"You are not, Mason," Bell said. "You want to keep working in this department you'll do what I tell you. We're going to handle it my way. You're staying in the office here. You understand?"

"Son of a bitch, Jim. She--"

"Do you understand me?"

"Yeah, I fucking understand you." He stormed out of the lab.

Bell asked Rhyme, "You all right?" Rhyme nodded.

"And you?" He glanced at Thom.

Tags: Jeffery Deaver Lincoln Rhyme Mystery
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