"Love you," she whispered. His response was to inhale her flowery Quaker State scent and tell her that he loved her too.
"Man, it's too bright." She looked toward the window, filled with glare from the circus spotlights. "Where're the shades?"
"Burned up, remember?"
"I thought Thom got some new ones."
"He started to put them up but he was fussing too much. Measuring and everything. I threw him out and told him to do it later."
Sachs slipped out of bed and found an extra sheet, draped it over the window, cutting out much of the light. She returned to bed, curled up against him and was soon asleep.
But not Lincoln Rhyme. As he lay listening to the music and the cryptic voice of the MC some ideas began to form in his mind and the opportunity for sleep came and went. Soon he was completely awake, lost in his thoughts.
Which were, not surprisingly, about the circus.
*
Late the next morning Thom walked into the bedroom to find that Rhyme had a visitor.
"Hi," he said to Jaynene Williams, sitting in one of the new chairs beside his bed.
"Thom." She shook his hand.
The aide, who'd been out shopping, was clearly surprised to see someone there. Thanks to the computer, the environmental control units and CCTV, Rhyme was, of course, perfectly capable of calling someone up, inviting them over and letting them inside when they arrived.
"No need to look so shocked," Rhyme said caustically. "I have invited people over before, you know."
"Blue moon comes to mind."
"Maybe I'll hire Jaynene here to replace you."
"Why don't you hire her as well as me. With two people here we could share the abuse." He smiled at her. "I wouldn't do that to you, though."
"I've handled worse."
"Are you a coffee lady or a tea lady?"
Rhyme said, "Sorry. Where were my manners? Should've had the pot boiling by now."
"Coffee'll do."
"Scotch for me," Rhyme said. When Thom glanced at the clock, the criminalist added, "A small shot for medicinal purposes."
"Coffee all around," the aide said and disappeared.
After he'd gone Rhyme and Jaynene made small talk about spinal cord injury patients and the exercises he was now pursuing fanatically. Then, impatient as ever, Rhyme decided he'd been the polite host long enough and lowered his voice to say, "There's a problem, something bothering me. I think you can help. I'm hoping you can."
She eyed him cautiously. "Maybe."
"Could you close the door?"
The large woman glanced at it, rose and then did as he asked. She returned to her seat.
"How long have you known Kara?" he asked.
"Kara? Little over a year. Ever since her mother came to Stuyvesant."
"That's an expensive place, isn't it?"