The Steel Kiss (Lincoln Rhyme 12)

Rhyme's eyes closed momentarily. Then opened fast. "Somebody who's a threat. What Lon was just suggesting. It's his second mission. To stop those who're after him or a threat to him. Us. Maybe a witness, somebody who knows him and might be growing suspicious. Anything on the charts that might suggest a victim unrelated to the products, nothing to do with his manifesto against consumers?"

He scanned the charts. Although the source for some items had not been isolated (Queens??), everything had been identified--except one thing.

"Damn it, Mel. What the hell is the plant? We asked the Horticultural Society ages ago."

"It was yesterday."

"Ages, like I said," Rhyme snapped. "Call. Find out."

Cooper looked the number up once more and placed the call. "Professor Aniston? This is Detective Cooper. NYPD. I sent you that sample of vegetation trace evidence we found at a crime scene. Have you had any luck? We're under some time pressure... Sure." Cooper glanced toward them. "He's looking it up now."

"Which suggests it wasn't a particularly burdensome request in the first place," Rhyme muttered, probably louder than he should have.

Cooper's body language changed as the call resumed. He wrote on a pad beside him. "Got it, thanks, Professor." He disconnected. "It's rare. You don't find it very often."

"That's what rare means, Mel. What the hell is it?"

"It's a fragment of leaf from a hibiscus. But what's rare is that it's a blue one. There'll be limited sources--"

"My God!" Sachs pulled her phone out, hit speed dial. "This is Detective Five Eight Eight Five. Sachs. I need officers at Four Two One Eight Martin Street, Brooklyn. Possible ten thirty-four in progress. Suspect is white male, six two to six four, weight one fifty. Possibly armed... I'm en route."

She hung up, grabbed her jacket. "My mother's house. I got her a blue hibiscus for her birthday. It's in her backyard, right by a window to the basement. He rigged something there."

Sachs sprinted for the door, making a second call.

A circuit breaker had popped.

Rose Sachs was now in her Brooklyn town house's dank basement, the place redolent of mold. She was making her way slowly to the panel. Slowly not because of her cardiac condition, but because of the clutter.

Looking over the boxes, the shelves, the racks of plastic-wrapped clothing.

Even here she felt good--the "even" because she was dodging a spider's elaborate web.

Good.

Spending some time in her own house for a change.

She loved her daughter, appreciated everything Amie did for her. But the girl--the woman--had been such a, well, mother hen about the surgery. Stay at my house, Mom. Come on. No, I'll drive you. No, I'll pick up dinner.

Sweet of her. But the fact was Rose wasn't going to break apart in the days leading up to the operation. No, it was obvious what Amie was thinking--that Rose might not wake up from the deep sleep while the surgeon was slicing out components of her heart and replacing them with little tubes from a lesser part of her body.

Daughter wanted to spend as much time with mother as possible--just in case Part A didn't get along with Part B, which, by the way, God never did intend.

Upstairs her mobile phone was ringing.

They could leave a message.

Or maybe Amelia's persistence--and insistence--was simply her uncompromising nature.

And for this, Rose thought smiling, she herself was to blame. She was thinking of the turbulent days with her daughter. What had been the source of Rose's moods, her paranoia, her suspicion? Thinking that father and daughter were conspiring to get away from Mom?

But that wasn't paranoia at all. They were conspiring.

As well they should have. What a shrew I was. Who knew what was the reason... There were probably meds I could have taken, probably therapists I could have shared with. But that would have been a weakness.

And Rose Sachs had never done well with weakness.

At this moment, lost in these reflections, she felt a burst of pride. Because the upside of that attitude was that she'd created a strong daughter. Herman had given the girl heart and humor. Rose had given her steel.