The Empty Chair (Lincoln Rhyme 3)

The sheriff responded, "You bumped the table. The lid wasn't on tight. It splashed on you. I went for help but we couldn't save you in time."

"Amelia's not going to let it go. Lucy won't either."

"Your girlfriend's not going to be a problem for very much longer. And Lucy? She might just get sick again ... and this time there might not be anything to cut off to save her."

Bell hesitated only a moment then he stepped close and poured the liquid over Rhyme's mouth and nose. The rest he splashed onto the front of his shirt.

The sheriff dropped the jar onto Rhyme's lap, stepped back fast and covered his own mouth with a handkerchief.

Rhyme's head jerked back, his lips parted involuntarily and some of the liquid slipped into his mouth. He began to choke.

Bell pulled off the gloves and stuffed them into his slacks. He waited a moment, calmly studying Rhyme, then walked toward the door slowly, unlocked it, swung it open. He called, "There's been an accident! Somebody, I need help!" He stepped into the corridor. "I need--"

He walked right into Lucy Kerr's line of fire, her pistol aimed steadily at his chest.

"Jesus, Lucy!"

"That's enough, Jim. Just hold it right there."

The sheriff stepped back. Nathan, the sharpshooting deputy, walked into the room, behind Bell, and snagged the sheriff's pistol from its holster. Another man entered--a large man in a tan suit and white shirt.

Ben too ran inside, ignored everyone else and hurried to Rhyme, wiping the criminalist's face with a paper towel.

The sheriff stared at Lucy and the others. "No, you don't understand! There was an accident! That poison stuff spilled. You've got to--"

Rhyme spit on the floor and wheezed from the astringent liquid and the fumes. He said to Ben, "Could you wipe higher on my cheek? I'm afraid it'll get into my eyes. Thank you."

"Sure, Lincoln."

Bell said, "I was going for help! That stuff spilled! I--"

The man in the suit pulled handcuffs off his belt and ratcheted the loops around the sheriff's wrists. He said, "James Bell, I'm Detective Hugo Branch with the North Carolina State Police. You're under arrest here." Branch looked at Rhyme sourly. "I told you he'd pour it on your shirt. We should've put the unit someplace else."

"But you got enough on tape?"

"Oh, plenty. That's not the point. The point is those transmitters cost money."

"Bill me," Rhyme said acerbically as Branch opened Rhyme's shirt and untaped the microphone and transmitter.

"It was a setup," Bell whispered.

You got that right.

"But the poison ..."

"Oh, it's not toxaphene," Rhyme said. "Just a little moonshine. From that jar we tested. By the way, Ben, if there's any left, I could use a sip just now. And, Christ, could somebody get that AC going?"

Tense, cut to the left and run like hell. I'll get hit but if I'm lucky it won't stop me.

When you move they can't getcha...

Amelia Sachs took three steps into the grass.

Ready...

Set...

Then a man's voice from behind them, inside the lockup area, called, "Hold it, Steve! Put the weapon on the ground. Now! I'm not telling you again!"