Jeffery Deaver - The Empty Chair

Mary Beth had never seen such an expression on another human being. Complete shock and dismay. The redhead started to turn toward Garrett but then something caught her eye: the rows of Farmer John canned fruits and vegetables. She walked slowly toward the table, as if she were sleepwalking, and picked one up. Stared at the picture on the label – a cheerful blond farmer wearing tan overalls and a white shirt.

"You made it up?" she whispered to Garrett, holding the can up. "There was no man. You lied to me."

Garrett stepped forward, fast as a grasshopper, and pulled a pair of handcuffs off the redhead's belt. He ratcheted them onto her wrists.

"I'm sorry, Amelia," he said. "But if I'd told you the truth you never would've got me out. It was the only way. I had to get back here. I had to get back to Mary Beth."

FOUND AT THE SECONDARY CRIME SCENE -

MILL

Brown Paint on Pants

Sundew Plant

Clay

Peat Moss

Fruit Juice

Paper Fibers

Stinkball Bait

Sugar

Camphene

Alcohol

Kerosene

Yeast

Obsessively Lincoln Rhyme's eyes scanned the evidence chart. Top to bottom, bottom to top.

Then again.

Why the hell was the damn chromatograph taking so long? he wondered.

Jim Bell and Mason Germain sat nearby, both silent. Lucy had called in a few minutes before to say that they'd lost the trail and were waiting north of the trailer – at Location C-5.

The chromatograph rumbled and everyone in the room remained still, waiting for the results.

Silence for long minutes, finally broken by Ben Kerr's voice. He spoke to Rhyme in a soft voice. "They used to call me it, you know. What you're probably thinking."

Rhyme looked over at him.

"'Big Ben.' Like the clock in England. You were probably wondering."

"I wasn't. In school, you mean?"

A nod. "High school. I hit six-three and two-fifty when I was sixteen. I got made fun of a lot. 'Big Ben.' Other names too. So I never felt real comfortable with the way I looked. Think maybe that was why I acted kinda funny seeing you at first."

"Kids gave you a tough time, did they?" Rhyme asked, both acknowledging and deflecting the apology.

"They sure did. Until I took up junior varsity wrestling and pinned Darryl Tennison in three-point-two seconds and it took him a lot longer than that to get his wind back."

"I skipped P.E. class a lot," Rhyme told him. "I forged excuses from my doctor, my parents – pretty good ones, I will say – and snuck into the science lab."

"You did that?"

"Twice a week at least."

"And you did experiments?"

"Read a lot, played around with the equipment… A few times, I played around with Sonja Metzger."

Thom and Ben laughed.

But Sonja, his first girlfriend, put him in mind of Amelia Sachs and he didn't like where those thoughts were headed.

"Okay," Ben said. "Here we go." The computer screen had burst to life with the results of the control sample Rhyme had asked Jim Bell to procure. The big man nodded. "Here's what we've got: Solution of fifty-five percent alcohol. Water, lot of minerals."

"Well water," Rhyme said.

"Most likely." The zoologist continued, "Then there're traces of formaldehyde, phenol, fructose, dextrose, cellulose."

"That's good enough for me," Rhyme announced. Thinking: The fish may still be out of water but it's just grown lungs. He announced to Bell and Mason, "I made a mistake. A big one. I saw the yeast and I assumed it'd come from the mill, not the place where Garrett really has Mary Beth. But why would a mill have supplies of yeast? You'd only find those in a bakery… Or" – he lifted his eyebrow to Bell – "someplace they're brewing that." He nodded at the bottle that sat on the table. The liquid inside was what Rhyme had just asked Bell to collect from the basement of the Sheriff's Department. It was 110-proof moonshine – from one of the juice bottles that Rhyme had seen a deputy clear away when he'd taken over the evidence room and turned it into a lab. This is what Ben had just sampled in the chromatograph.

"Sugar and yeast," the criminalist continued. "Those're ingredients in liquor. And the cellulose in that batch of moonshine," Rhyme continued, looking at the computer screen, "is probably from the paper fibers – I assume when you make moonshine, you have to filter it."

"Yep," Bell confirmed. "And most 'shiners use off-the-shelf coffee filters."

"Just like the fiber we found on Garrett's clothes. And the dextrose and fructose – complex sugars found in fruit. That's from the fruit juice left over in the jar. Ben said it was tart – like cranberry juice. And you told me, Jim, that's the most popular container for moonshine. Right?"

"Ocean Spray."

"So," Rhyme summarized, "Garrett's holding Mary Beth in a moonshiner's cabin – presumably one that's been abandoned since the raid."

"What raid?" Mason asked.

"Well, it's like the trailer," Rhyme replied shortly, hating as always to have to explain the obvious. "If Garrett's using the place to hide Mary Beth then it has to be abandoned. And what's the only reason anybody'd abandon a working still?"

"Department of revenue busted it," Bell said.

"Right," Rhyme said. "Get on the phone and find out the location of any stills that've been raided in the past couple of years. It'll be a nineteenth-century building in a stand of trees and painted brown – though it may not have been when it got raided. It's four or five miles from where Frank Heller lives and it'll be on a Carolina bay or you'll have to go around a bay to get there from the Paquo."

Bell left to call the revenue department.

"That's pretty good, Lincoln," Ben said. Even Mason Germain seemed impressed.

A moment later Bell hurried back into the room. "Got it!" He examined the sheet of paper in his hand then began tracing directions on the map, ending at Location B-4. He circled a spot. "Right here. Head of investigations at revenue said it was a big operation. They raided it a year ago and busted up the still. One of his agents checked out the place a couple, three months ago and saw that somebody'd painted it brown so he looked it over good to see if it was being used again. But he said it was empty so he didn't pay any more mind. Oh, and it's about twenty yards from a good-sized Carolina bay."

"Is there any way to get a car in there?" Rhyme asked.

"Has to be," Bell said. "All stills're near roads – to bring the supplies in and get the finished 'shine out."

Rhyme nodded and said firmly, "I need an hour alone with her – to talk her out. I know I can do it."

"It's risky, Lincoln."

"I want that hour," Rhyme said, holding Bell 's eye.

Finally Bell said, "Okay. But if Garrett gets away this time it's gonna be a full-out manhunt."

"Understood. You think my van can make it there?"

Bell said, "Roads aren't great but -"

"I'll get you there," Thom said firmly. "Whatever it takes, I'll get you there."

Five minutes after Rhyme had wheeled out of the County Building, Mason Germain watched Jim Bell return to his office. He waited a moment and, making sure no one saw him, he stepped into the corridor and headed toward the front door of the building.

There were dozens of phones in the County Building Mason could have used to make his call but instead he pushed outside into the heat and walked quickly across the quadrangle to a bank of pay phones on the sidewalk. He fished into his pockets and dug out some coins. He looked around and when he saw he was alone he dropped them in, looked at a number on a slip of paper and punched in the digits.

Farmer John, Farmer John. Enjoy it fresh from Farmer John… Farmer John, Farmer John. Enjoy it fresh from Farmer John…