The Empty Chair (Lincoln Rhyme 3)

"Get these cuffs off me!" she cried. "I can't take care of him this way."

"No," Lucy said.

"Jesus," Sachs muttered and examined Thom's stomach as best she could with the restraints on.

"How are you, Thom?" Rhyme blurted. "Talk to us."

"It feels numb.... It's feeling ... It's funny ..." His eyes rolled back

under the lids and he passed out.

A crash above their heads. A bullet tore through the wall. Followed by a thud of a shotgun blast hitting the door. Garrett handed Sachs a wad of napkins. She pressed them against the rip in Thom's belly. She slapped him gently on the face. He gave no response.

"Is he alive?" Rhyme asked hopelessly.

"He's breathing. Shallow. But he's breathing. Exit wound isn't too bad but I don't know what kind of damage there is inside,"

Lucy looked out the window fast, ducked. "Why're they doing this?"

Rhyme said, "Jim said they were into moonshine. Maybe they had their eye on this place and didn't want it found. Or maybe there's a drug lab nearby."

"There were two men earlier--they tried to break in," Mary Beth told them. "They said they were killing marijuana fields but I guess they were growing it. They might all be working together."

"Where's Bell?" Lucy asked. "And Mason?"

"He'll be here in a half hour," Rhyme said.

Lucy shook her head in dismay at this information. Then looked again out the window. She stiffened as, it seemed, she sighted a target. She lifted the pistol, aimed quickly.

Too quickly.

"No, let me!" Sachs cried.

But Lucy fired twice. Her grimace told them she had missed. She squinted. "Sean's just found a can. A red can. What is that, Garrett? Gas?" The boy huddled on the floor, frozen in panic. "Garrett! Talk to me!"

He turned toward her.

"The red can? What's in it?"

"It's, like, kerosene. For the boat."

Lucy muttered, "Hell, they're going to burn us out."

"Shit," Garrett cried. He rolled to his knees, staring at Lucy, eyes frantic.

Sachs, alone among them, it seemed, knew what was coming. "No, Garrett, don't--"

The boy ignored her and flung the door open and, half running, half crawling, skittered along the porch. Bullets cracked into the wood, following him. Sachs had no idea if he'd been hit.

Then there was silence. The men moved closer to the cabin with the kerosene.

Sachs looked around the room, filled with dust from the impact of the bullets. She saw:

Mary Beth, hugging herself, crying.

Lucy, her eyes filled with the devil's own hatred, checking her pistol.

Thom, slowly bleeding to death.