Jeffery Deaver - The Empty Chair

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The Barnes Noble Review
May 2000
The Empty Chair is the third – or, if you count a guest appearance in the millennial thriller The Devil's Teardrop, the fourth – novel to feature Lincoln Rhyme, the irascible forensic genius who became a quadriplegic when a cave-in at a crime scene damaged his spinal cord beyond repair. The series began in 1997 with The Bone Collector, which was recently made into a so-so film starring Denzel Washington. Every Rhyme novel to date has been characterized by authentic forensic detail and wild, even extravagant plotting, and the latest entry is no exception. The Empty Chair may, in fact, be the single trickiest suspense novel published so far this year.
Unlike earlier volumes, The Empty Chair takes place outside of New York City in the bucolic but sinister environs of Paquenoke County, North Carolina. Rhyme – accompanied by his long-suffering physical therapist, Thom, and his beloved forensic assistant, Amelia Sachs – has just been accepted as a patient at the Medical Center of the University of North Carolina, where he is scheduled to undergo an experimental procedure that might increase the range of his mobility but might, on the other hand, result in his death. Shortly after his arrival, Lincoln 's plans are disrupted by an unforeseen emergency. Jim Bell, Paquenoke County sheriff, has trouble on his hands and needs Lincoln 's expertise.
According to Bell, a disturbed teenager – known, for reasons that become graphically clear, as the Insect Boy – has murdered a local football hero and abductedtwoyoung women. Convinced that the women have only hours to live, Bell asks Lincoln to examine the trace evidence found at the abduction site in the faint hope of pinpointing the kidnapper's location. Though he knows nothing about the physical composition of the surrounding area – he and Sachs, as he repeatedly comments, are "fish out of water" in the American South – Rhyme agrees to help. Once again using Amelia Sachs as his eyes and legs, he sets up an ad hoc forensic lab in a borrowed corner of the local Sheriff's office and goes to work.
This sort of scenario – a crazed killer, a race against time, a scattered handful of clues – offers more than enough drama to fuel any number of traditional suspense novels. In The Empty Chair, however, this same scenario is merely the first level of a complex, multitiered mystery that constantly confounds our most fundamental expectations. The first indication that The Empty Chair contains unexpected depths comes when Lincoln, flawlessly interpreting his disparate bits of evidence, locates both the Insect Boy (Garrett Hanlon) and his most recent victim (an oncology nurse named Lydia Johannsen) within the first 150 pages. At that point, Deaver throws away the rulebook.
After talking with Garrett Hanlon in the Paquenoke County jail, Amelia develops the instinctive sense that Garrett might, as he continually claims, be a victim, and that another unidentified killer might still be at large. In a moment of intuitive – and reckless – empathy, Amelia abandons her professional principles and escapes with Garrett, determined both to prove the boy's innocence and rescue the remaining victim, a local history student named Mary Beth McConnell. From this point forward, almost nothing that happens in The Empty Chair is even remotely predictable.
It would spoil too many of the carefully constructed surprises to reveal the plot in any more detail. Suffice it to say that the narrative – which seems, at first, a simple but effective chase story – broadens and deepens to become something stranger and infinitely more complex. Throwing a varied assortment of people and elements into the mix – a trio of Deliverance-style rednecks, an emotionally scarred cancer survivor, a revisionist account of the Lost Colony of Roanoke, an apparently deranged deputy sheriff, a pair of incipient rapists, the hidden motivations of a wealthy industrialist, and the tragic history of Tanner's Corner, a "town without children" – Deaver constructs an artful, entertaining melodrama that has much to say about the destructive consequences of uncontrolled greed.
If The Empty Chair has a besetting weakness, it is Deaver's relentless determination to dazzle the reader with his narrative sleight of hand, piling on an endless, constantly escalating series of shocks, surprises, and unexpected twists that might, in a lesser writer's hands, have become just a bit too much. But Deaver, as usual, is a consummate professional, and he holds it all together with the ease and assurance of a natural storyteller. Readers familiar with the earlier adventures of Lincoln Rhyme will be lining up for this one, which seems likely to attract a substantial number of new readers, as well. The Empty Chair is Jeffery Deaver at his best and most devious and is recommended, without reservation, to anyone in search of intelligent, high-adrenaline entertainment.
– Bill Sheehan

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"Can he be segregated?"

"Not there. It's all general population. Just a big holding pen, basically. The best we can do is hope the guards look out for him."

"How 'bout bail?"

Fredericks laughed. "There's no judge in the world'd set bail in a case like this. He's a bond-jumper waiting to happen."

"Is there anything we can do to get him into a different facility? Lincoln 's got friends in New York."

" New York?" Fredericks gave her a genteel but wry Southern smile. "I don't think that carries much weight south of the Mason-Dixon line. Probably not even west of the Hudson." He nodded toward Doctor Penny. "No, our best bet is to get Garrett to cooperate then work out a plea."

"Shouldn't his foster parents be here?"

"Should be, yep. I called them but Hal said the boy's on his own. He wouldn't even let me talk to Maggie – his mother."

"But Garrett can't be making decisions on his own," Sachs said. "He's just a boy."

"Oh," Fredericks explained, "before the arraignment or plea deal's agreed to the court'll appoint a guardian ad litem. Don't worry, he'll be looked out for."

Sachs turned to the doctor. "What're you going to do? This empty chair test?"

Dr. Penny glanced at the lawyer, who nodded his okay to explain. "It's not a test. It's a type of Gestalt therapy – a behavioral technique that's known for getting very fast results in understanding certain types of behavior. I'm going to have Garrett imagine that Mary Beth is sitting in a chair in front of him and have him talk to her. Explain to her why he kidnapped her. I hope to get him to understand that she's upset and frightened and that what he did was wrong. That she'll be better off if he tells us where she is."

"And this'll work?"

"It's not really intended for this type of situation but I think it could get results."

The lawyer glanced at his watch. "You ready, Doctor?"

He nodded.

"Let's go." The doctor and Fredericks disappeared into the interrogation room.

Sachs hung back, got a cup of water from the cooler. Sipped it slowly. When the deputy at the front desk turned his attention back to his newspaper Sachs quickly stepped through the door of the observation room, where the video camera sat for taping suspects. The room was empty. She pulled the door shut and sat down, peered into the interrogation room. She could see Garrett in one chair in the middle of the room. The doctor sat at the table. Cal Fredericks was in the corner, his arms folded, ankle resting on a knee, revealing the height of his shoes' stubby heels.

A third chair, unoccupied, sat facing Garrett.

Cokes were on the table. The cans sweated with condensation.

Through the cheap, clattering speaker above the mirror Sachs heard their voices.

"Garrett, I'm Doctor Penny. How're you?"

No answer.

"It's a little warm in here, isn't it?"

Still Garrett said nothing. He looked down. Clicked the nails on his finger and thumb. Sachs couldn't hear the sound. She found her own thumbnail digging into the flesh of her index finger. Felt moisture, saw the blood. Stop it stop it stop it , she thought and forced herself to lower her hands to her sides.

"Garrett, I'm here to help you. I'm working with your lawyer, Mr. Fredericks here, and we're trying to get you a reduced sentence for what's happened. We can help you but we need your cooperation."

Fredericks said, "The doctor's going to talk to you, Garrett. We're going to try to find out a few things. But everything you say is going to be just between us. We won't tell anybody else without your permission. You understand that?"

He nodded.

"Remember, Garrett," the doctor said, "we're the good guys. We're on your side… Now, I want to try something."

Her eyes were on the boy's face. He scratched at a welt. He said, "I guess."

"See that chair there?"

Dr. Penny nodded toward the chair and the boy glanced at it. "I see it."

"We're going to play sort of a game. You're going to pretend there's somebody real important in that chair."

"Like the President?"

"No, I mean, somebody important to you. Somebody you know in real life. You're going to pretend they're sitting there in front of you. I want you to talk to them. And I want you to be real honest with them. You tell them whatever you want to say. Share your secrets with them. If you're mad at them you tell them that. If you love them tell them so. If you want them – like you'd want a girl – tell them. Remember it's okay to say anything at all. Nobody's going to be upset with you."

"Just talk to the chair?" Garrett asked the doctor. "Why?"

"For one thing, it'll help you feel better about the bad things that happened today."

"You mean, like, getting caught?"

Sachs smiled.

Dr. Penny seemed to repress his own smile and moved the empty chair a little closer to Garrett. "Now, imagine that somebody important is sitting right there. Let's say Mary Beth McConnell. And that you've got something you want to say to her and now's your chance. Something you've never said before because it was too hard. Something really important. Not just some bullshit."

Garrett looked nervously around the room, glanced at his lawyer, who nodded encouragingly. The boy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay. I guess I'm ready."

"Good. Now, picture Mary Beth in the -"

"But I don't want to say anything to her ," Garrett interrupted.

"You don't?"

He shook his head. "I already told her everything I wanted to say."

"There isn't anything else?"

He hesitated. "I don't know… Maybe. Only… the thing is I'd rather imagine somebody else in the chair. Could we, like, do that?"

"Well, for now, let's stick with Mary Beth. You said maybe there's something you want to say to her. What is it? Do you want to tell her how she let you down or hurt you? Or made you angry? About how you want to get even with her? Anything at all, Garrett. You can say anything. It's all right."

Garrett shrugged. "Uhm, why can't it be someone else?"

"For now, let's say it has to be Mary Beth."

The boy turned suddenly to the one-way mirror and he looked right at where Sachs was sitting. Involuntarily she sat back, as if he knew she was there even though he couldn't possibly see her.

"Go on," the doctor encouraged.

The boy turned back to Dr. Penny. "Okay. I guess I'd say I'm glad she's safe."

The doctor beamed. "Good, Garrett. Let's start there. Tell her that you saved her. Tell her why." Nodding to the chair.

Garrett looked uneasily at the empty chair. He began, "She was in Blackwater Landing and -"

"No, remember you're talking to Mary Beth. Pretend she's sitting there in the chair."

He cleared his throat. "You were in Blackwater Landing. It was, like, really, really dangerous. People get hurt in Blackwater Landing, people get killed there. I was worried about you. I didn't want the man in the overalls to hurt you too."

"The man in the overalls?" the doctor asked.

"The one who killed Billy."

The doctor looked past Garrett to the lawyer, who was shaking his head.

Dr. Penny asked, "Garrett, you know, even if you did save Mary Beth she might think she did something to make you mad."

"Mad? She didn't do anything to make me mad."

"Well, you took her away from her family."

"I took her away to make sure she's safe." He remembered the rules of the game and looked back to the chair. "I took you away to make sure you were safe."

"I can't help but think," the doctor continued softly, "that there's something else you want to say. I sensed that earlier – that there's something pretty important to say but you don't want to."

Sachs too had seen this in the boy's face. His eyes were troubled but he was intrigued with the doctor's game. What was going through his mind? There was something he wanted to say. What was it?

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