The Burning Wire (Lincoln Rhyme 9)

Thom had briefed him. Rhyme remembered little of the monologue. "You do some very good work."

"Good work, yes."

Silence.

If we could move this along . . . Rhyme glanced out the window intently as if a new assignment were winging its way toward the town house, like the falcon earlier. Sorry, have to go, duty calls. . . .

"I've worked with many disabled people over the years. Spinal cord injuries, spina bifida, ALS, a lot of other problems. Cancer too."

Curious idea. Rhyme had never thought about that disease being a disability, but he supposed some types could fit the definition. A glance at the wall clock, ticking away slowly. And then Thom brought in a tray of coffee and, oh, for Christ's sake, cookies. The glance at the aide--meaning this was not a fucking tea party--rolled past like vapor.

"Thank you," Kopeski said, taking a cup. Rhyme was disappointed that he added no milk, which would have cooled the beverage so he could drink it, and leave, more quickly.

"For you, Lincoln?"

"I'm fine, thank you," he said with a chill that Thom ignored as effectively as he had the searing glance a moment ago. He left the tray and scooted back to the kitchen.

The doctor eased down into the sighing leather chair. "Good coffee."

I'm so very pleased. A cock of the head.

"You're a busy man, so I'll get to the point."

"I'd appreciate that."

"Detective Rhyme . . . Lincoln. Are you a religious man?"

The disability group must have a church affiliation; they might not want to honor a heathen.

"No, I'm not."

"No belief in the afterlife?"

"I haven't seen any objective evidence that one exists."

"Many, many people feel that way. So, for you, death would be equal to, say, peace."

"Depending on how I go."

A smile in the kind face. "I misrepresented myself somewhat to your aide. And to you. But for a good reason."

Rhyme wasn't concerned. If the man had pretended to be somebody else to get in and kill me, I'd be dead now. A raised eyebrow meant: Fine. Confess and let's move forward.

"I'm not with DRC."

"No?"

"No. But I sometimes say I'm with one group or another because my real organization sometimes gets me kicked out of people's homes."

"Jehovah's Witnesses?"

A chuckle. "I'm with Die with Dignity. It's a euthanasia advocacy organization based in Florida."

Rhyme had heard of them.

"Have you ever considered assisted suicide?"

"Yes, some years ago. I decided not to kill myself."