Jeffery Deaver - The Empty Chair

But their voices were humorless and, Sachs noticed, as they started down the path once more each one of them carefully lifted their feet well over the glistening strand.

Lincoln Rhyme, head back, eyes squinting at the chalkboard.

FOUND AT SECONDARY CRIME SCENE -

GARETT'S ROOM

Skunk Musk

Cut Pine Needles

Drawings of Insects

Pictures of Mary Beth and Family

Insect Books

Fishing Line

Money

Unknown Key

Kerosene

Ammonia

Nitrates

Camphene

He sighed angrily. Felt completely helpless. The evidence was inexplicable to him.

His eyes focused on: Insect Books.

Then glanced at Ben. "So. You're a student, are you?"

"That's right, sir."

"Read a lot, I'll bet."

"How I spend most of my time – if I'm not in the field."

Rhyme was gazing at the spines of the books that Amelia had brought from Garrett's room. He mused, "What do a person's favorite books say about them? Other than the obvious – that they're interested in the subject of the books, I mean."

"How's that?"

"Well, if a person has mostly self-help books, that says one thing about them. If he's got mostly novels, that says something else. These books of Garrett's are all nonfiction guidebooks. What do you make of that?"

"I wouldn't know, sir." The big man glanced once at Rhyme's legs – involuntarily, it seemed – then he turned his attention to the evidence chart. He mumbled, "I can't really figure out people. Animals make a lot more sense to me. They're a lot more social, more predictable, more consistent than people. Hell of a lot more clever too." Then he realized he was rambling and, with a ruddy blush, stopped talking.

Rhyme glanced again at the books. "Thom, could you get me the turning frame?" Rigged to an ECU – an environmental-control unit – that Rhyme could manipulate with his one working finger, the device used a rubber armature to turn pages of books. "It's in the van, isn't it?"

"I think so."

"I hope you packed it. I told you to pack it."

"I said I think it is," the aide said evenly. "I'll go see if it's there." He left the room.

Hell of a lot more clever too…

Thom returned a moment later with the turning frame.

"Ben," Rhyme called. "That book on top?"

"There?" the big man asked, staring at the books. It was the Field Guide to Insects of North Carolina .

"Put it in the frame." He stepped on his urgency. "If you would be so kind."

The aide showed Ben how to mount the book then plugged a different set of wires into the ECU underneath Rhyme's left hand.

He read the first page, found nothing helpful. Then his mind ordered his ring finger to move. An impulse shot from the brain, spiraled down through a tiny surviving axon in his spinal cord, past a million of its dead kin, then streaked along Rhyme's arm and into his hand.

The finger flicked a fraction of an inch.

The armature's own finger slid sideways. The page turned.

They followed the path through the forest, surrounded by the oily scent of pine and the sweet fragrance from one of the plants they passed. Lucy Kerr recognized it as a chicken grape.

As she stared at the path in front of them, looking for trip wires, she was suddenly aware that they hadn't seen any of Garrett's or Lydia 's footprints for a long time. She swatted what she thought was a bug on her neck but it turned out to be just a rivulet of sweat, tickling as it ran down her skin. Lucy felt dirty today. Other times – evenings and days off – she loved to be outside, in her garden. As soon as she got home from her tour at the Sheriff's Department she would pull on her faded plaid shorts and T-shirt and navy-blue running shoes that trailed stitching and would go to work in one of the three cuts of property surrounding her pale green colonial home that Bud had eagerly signed over to her outright as part of the divorce, laid low by a fever of guilt. There Lucy tended her long-spurred violets, yellow lady slippers, fringed orchids and orange bell lilies. She scooped dirt, led plants up trellises, watered them and whispered encouragements as if she were speaking to the children she'd been so certain she and Buddy would one day have.

Sometimes, after an assignment took her into the Carolina hinterland, serving a warrant or inquiring why the Honda or Toyota hidden in someone's garage happened to be owned by someone else, Lucy would notice a fledgling plant and, the police work disposed of, would uproot it and take it home with her like a foundling. She'd adopted her Solomon's seal this way. A tuckahoe plant too. And a beautiful indigo bush, which had grown six feet tall under her care.

Her eyes now slipped to what she was presently passing on this anxious pursuit of theirs: an elderberry, a mountain holly, plume grass. They passed a nice evening primrose, then some cattails and wild rice – taller than any of the search party and with leaves sharp as knives. And here was a squaw root, a parasitic herb. Which Lucy Kerr also knew by another name: cancer root. She glanced at that one once then looked back to the trail.

The path led to a steep hill – a series of rocks about twenty feet high. Lucy scaled the incline easily but at the top she stopped. Thinking, No, something's wrong here.

Beside her, Amelia Sachs climbed up to the plateau, paused. A moment later Jesse and Ned appeared. Jesse was breathing hard but Ned, a swimmer and outdoorsman, was taking the hike in stride.

"What is it?" Amelia asked Lucy, assessing the frown.

"This doesn't make any sense. For Garrett to come this way."

"We've been following the path, like Mr. Rhyme told us," Jesse said. "It's the only stretch of pine we've come across. Garrett's prints were leading this way."

"They were . But we haven't seen them for a while."

"Why don't you think he'd come this way?" Amelia asked.

"Look what's growing here." She pointed. "More and more swamp plants. And now we're on this rise we can see the ground better – look how marshy it's getting. Come on, think about it, Jesse. Where's this going to get Garrett? We're headed right for the Great Dismal."

"What's that?" Amelia asked her. "The Great Dismal?"

"A huge swamp, one of the biggest on the East Coast," Ned explained.

Lucy continued, "There's no cover there, no houses, no roads. The best he could do would be to slog his way into Virginia but that'd take days."

Ned Spoto added, "And this time of year, they don't make enough insect repellent to keep you from getting eaten alive. Not to mention snakes."

"Anyplace around here they could hide in? Caves? Houses?" Sachs looked around.

Ned said, "No caverns. Maybe a few old buildings. But what's happened is the water table's changed. The swamp's coming this way and a lot of the old houses and cabins're submerged. Lucy's right. If Garrett came this way he's heading for a dead end."

Lucy said, "I think we ought to turn around."

She thought that Amelia'd throw a hissy fit at this suggestion but the woman simply pulled out her cell phone and made a call. She said into the phone, "We're in the pine forest, Rhyme. There's a path but we can't find any sign that Garrett came along here. Lucy says it doesn't make any sense for him to come this way. She says it's mostly swamp northeast of here. There's no place for him to go."

Lucy said, "I'm thinking he'd head west. Or south, back across the river."

"That way he could get to Millerton," Jesse suggested.

Lucy nodded. "Couple of big factories around there closed when the companies took their business to Mexico. Banks foreclosed on a lot of property. There're dozens of abandoned houses he could hide in."