Jeffery Deaver - The Empty Chair

Ten, nine, eight…

She turned to the door, smelling the musty wood scent laced with the sweet aroma of gasoline and oil that flowed from inside the barn. She listened carefully. She heard a tapping – the noise of the engine of the car or truck Amelia had stolen.

Five, four, three…

She took a deep breath to calm herself. Another.

Ready , she told herself.

Then there was a loud crash from the front of the building as Mason kicked inside. "Sheriff's office!" he cried. "Nobody move!"

Go! she thought.

Lucy kicked the side door. But it moved only a few inches and stopped fast – hitting a large riding lawn mower parked just inside the door. It wouldn't go any farther. She slammed into it with her shoulder twice but the door held.

"Shit," she whispered and ran around to the front of the barn.

Before she got halfway there she heard Mason call out, "Oh, Jesus."

And then she heard a gunshot.

Followed a moment later by a second one.

• • •

"What's going on?" Rhyme demanded.

"Okay," Bell said uncertainly, holding the phone. There was something about his stance that alarmed Rhyme; the sheriff stood with the phone pressed hard against his ear, his other fist clenched and away from his body. He nodded as he listened. Looked at Rhyme. "There've been shots."

"Shots?"

"Mason and Lucy went into the barn. Jesse said there were two shots." He looked up, shouted into the other room. "Get the ambulance over to the Hallburton place. Badger Hollow Road, off Route 112."

Steve Farr called, "It's on its way."

Rhyme pressed his head back into the headrest of the chair. Glanced at Thom, who said nothing.

Who was shooting? Who'd been hit?

Oh, Sachs…

An edge in his voice, Bell said, "Well, find out, Jesse! Is anybody down? What the hell's going on?"

"Is Amelia all right?" Rhyme shouted.

"We'll know in a minute," Bell said.

But it felt more like days.

Finally Bell stiffened again as Jesse Corn or somebody came on the phone. He nodded. "Jesus, he did what?" He listened a moment longer then looked at Rhyme's alarmed face. "It's all right. Nobody's hurt. Mason kicked his way into the barn and saw some overalls hung up on the wall. A rake or shovel or something in front of it. It was real dark. He thought it was Garrett with a gun. He fired a couple times. That's all."

"Amelia's all right?"

"They weren't even there. It was just the truck they stole that was inside. Garrett and Amelia must've been in the house but they probably've heard the shots and took off into the woods. They can't get too far. I know the property – it's all surrounded by bogs."

Rhyme said angrily, "I want Mason off the case. That was no mistake – he shot on purpose. I told you he was too hotheaded."

Bell obviously agreed. Into the phone he said, "Jesse, put Mason on…" There was a short pause. "Mason, what the hell is this all about?… Why'd you fire?… Well, what if it'd been Pete Hallburton standing there? Or his wife or one of his kids?… I don't care. You head back here right now. That's an order… Well, let them search the house. Get in your cruiser and head back… I'm not telling you again. I – "

"Shit." Bell hung up. A moment later the phone rang again. "Lucy, what's going on?…" The sheriff listened, frowning, eyes on the floor. He paced. "Oh, Jesus… You're sure?" He nodded then said, "Okay, stay there. I'll call you back." He hung up.

"What happened?"

Bell shook his head. "I don't believe it. We got suckered. She did a number on us, your friend."

"What?"

Bell said, "Pete Hallburton's there. He's home – in his house. Lucy and Jesse just talked to him. His wife works the three-to-eleven shift over at Davett's company and she forgot her supper so he dropped it off a half hour ago and drove home."

" He drove home? Were Amelia and Garrett hiding in the trunk?"

Bell gave a disgusted sigh. "He's got a pickup. No place to hide. Not for them anyway. But there was plenty of room for her cell phone. Behind a cooler he had in the back."

Rhyme too now barked a cynical laugh. "She called the rental company, got put on hold and hid the phone in the truck."

"You got that right," Bell muttered.

Thom said, "Remember, Lincoln, she called that rental place this morning. She was mad because she was on hold for so long."

"She knew we'd have a locator on the phone," Bell said. "They waited till Lucy and the squad cars left Canal Road and then went on their merry goddamn way." He looked at the map. "They've got forty minutes on us. They could be anywhere."

After the police cruisers had abandoned the roadblock and disappeared west down Route 112, Garrett and Sachs jogged to the end of Canal Road and crossed the highway.

They skirted the Blackwater Landing crime scenes then turned left and moved quickly through brush and an oak forest, following the Paquenoke River.

A half-mile into the forest they came to a tributary of the Paquo. It was impossible to go around and Sachs had no desire to swim across the dark water, dotted with insects and slime and trash.

But Garrett had made other arrangements. He pointed his cuffed hands to a place on the shore. "The boat."

"Boat? Where?"

"There, there." He pointed again.

She squinted and could just make out the shape of a small boat. It was covered with brush and leaves.

Garrett walked to it, and working as best he could with the handcuffs on, began stripping off the foliage hiding the vessel. Sachs helped him.

"Camouflage," he said proudly. "I learned it from insects. There's this little cricket in France – the truxalis. This is totally cool – it changes its color three times a summer to match the different greens of grass during the season. Predators can hardly see it."

Well, Sachs too had used some of the boy's esoteric knowledge about insects. When Garrett had commented on the moths – their ability to sense electronic and radio signals – she'd realized that of course Rhyme had set up a locator on her cell phone. She'd remembered that she'd been on hold for a long time at Piedmont-Carolina Car Rental that morning. Then she'd snuck into the Davett Industries parking lot, called the rental company and slipped the phone, playing interminable Muzak, into the back of an unoccupied pickup truck whose motor'd been running, parked in front of the employee entrance to the building.

The trick had apparently worked. The deputies took off after the truck when it left the grounds.

As they uncovered the boat Sachs now asked Garrett, "The ammonia? And the pit with the wasps' nest. You learned those from the insects too?"

"Yeah," he said.

"You weren't going to hurt anybody, were you?"

"No, no, the ant-lion pit was just to scare you, to slow you up. I put an empty nest in there on purpose. The ammonia was to warn me if you got close. That's what insects do. Smells're, like, an early-warning system or something for them." His red, watery eyes shone with a curious admiration. "That was pretty cool, what you did, finding me at the mill. I, like, never thought you'd get there fast as you did."

"And you left that fake evidence in the mill – the map and the sand – to lead us off."

"Yeah, I told you – insects're smart. They've gotta be."

They finished uncovering the battered boat. It was painted dark gray, was about ten feet long and had a small outboard motor on it. Inside were a dozen plastic gallon bottles of spring water and a cooler. Sachs tore open one of the waters and drank a dozen mouthfuls. She handed the bottle to Garrett and he drank too. Then he opened the cooler. Inside were boxes of crackers and chips. He looked them over carefully to make sure everything was accounted for and undamaged. He nodded then climbed into the boat.