Jeffery Deaver - The Empty Chair

The aide lay on his back, conscious but pale, sweating fiercely. She clamped one hand over the wound.

"Get these cuffs off me!" she cried. "I can't take care of him this way."

"No," Lucy said.

"Jesus," Sachs muttered and examined Thom's stomach as best she could with the restraints on.

"How are you, Thom?" Rhyme blurted. "Talk to us."

"It feels numb… It's feeling… It's funny…" His eyes rolled back under the lids and he passed out.

A crash above their heads. A bullet tore through the wall. Followed by a thud of a shotgun blast hitting the door. Garrett handed Sachs a wad of napkins. She pressed them against the rip in Thom's belly. She slapped him gently on the face. He gave no response.

"Is he alive?" Rhyme asked hopelessly.

"He's breathing. Shallow. But he's breathing. Exit wound isn't too bad but I don't know what kind of damage there is inside."

Lucy looked out the window fast, ducked. "Why're they doing this?"

Rhyme said, "Jim said they were into moonshine. Maybe they had their eye on this place and didn't want it found. Or maybe there's a drug lab nearby."

"There were two men earlier – they tried to break in," Mary Beth told them. "They said they were killing marijuana fields but I guess they were growing it. They might all be working together."

"Where's Bell?" Lucy asked. "And Mason?"

"He'll be here in a half hour," Rhyme said.

Lucy shook her head in dismay at this information. Then looked again out the window. She stiffened as, it seemed, she sighted a target. She lifted the pistol, aimed quickly.

Too quickly.

"No, let me!" Sachs cried.

But Lucy fired twice. Her grimace told them she had missed. She squinted. "Sean's just found a can. A red can. What is that, Garrett? Gas?" The boy huddled on the floor, frozen in panic. "Garrett! Talk to me!"

He turned toward her.

"The red can? What's in it?"

"It's, like, kerosene. For the boat."

Lucy muttered, "Hell, they're going to burn us out."

"Shit," Garrett cried. He rolled to his knees, staring at Lucy, eyes frantic.

Sachs, alone among them, it seemed, knew what was coming. "No, Garrett, don't -"

The boy ignored her and flung the door open and, half running, half crawling, skittered along the porch. Bullets cracked into the wood, following him. Sachs had no idea if he'd been hit.

Then there was silence. The men moved closer to the cabin with the kerosene.

Sachs looked around the room, filled with dust from the impact of the bullets. She saw Mary Beth, hugging herself, crying.

Lucy, her eyes filled with the devil's own hatred, checking her pistol.

Thom, slowly bleeding to death.

Lincoln Rhyme, on his back, breathing hard.

You and me…

In a steady voice Sachs said to Lucy, "We've got to go out there. We've got to stop them. The two of us."

"There're three of them, they've got rifles."

"They're going to set fire to the place. And either burn us alive or shoot us when we run outside. We don't have any choice. Take the cuffs off." Sachs held out her wrists. "You have to."

"How can I trust you?" Lucy whispered. "You ambushed us at the river."

Sachs asked, "Ambushed? What're you talking about?"

Lucy scowled. "What am I talking about? You used that boat as a lure and shot at Ned when he went out to get it."

"Bullshit! You thought we were under the boat and shot at us ."

"Only after you…" Then Lucy's voice faded, and she nodded knowingly.

Sachs said to the deputy, "It was them. Culbeau and the others. One of them shot first. To scare you and slow you up probably."

"And we thought it was you."

Sachs held her wrists out. "We don't have any choice."

The deputy looked at Sachs carefully then slowly reached into her pocket and found her cuff key. She undid the chrome bracelets. Sachs rubbed her wrists. "What's the ammunition situation?"

"I've got four left."

"I've got five in mine," Sachs said, taking her long-barreled Smith & Wesson from Lucy and checking the cylinder.

Sachs looked down at Thom. Mary Beth stepped forward. "I'll take care of him."

"One thing," Sachs said. "He's gay. He's been tested but…"

"Doesn't matter," the girl responded. "I'll be careful. Go on."

"Sachs," Rhyme said. "I…"

"Later, Rhyme. No time for that now." Sachs eased to the door, looked out quickly, eyes taking in the topography of the field, what would make good cover and shooting positions. Her hands free again, gripping a hefty gun in her palm, she felt confident once more. This was her world: guns and speed. She couldn't think about Lincoln Rhyme and his operation, about Jesse Corn's death, about Garrett Hanlon's betrayal, about what awaited her if they got out of this terrible situation.

When you move they can't getcha…

She said to Lucy, "We go out the door. You go left behind the van but don't stop, no matter what. Keep moving till you get to the grass. I'm going right – for that tree over there. We get into the tall grass and stay down, move forward, toward the forest, flank them."

"They'll see us go out the door."

"They're supposed to see us. We want them to know there're two of us out there somewhere in the grass. It'll keep 'em edgy and looking over their shoulders. Don't shoot unless you have a clear, no-miss target. Got that?… Do you?"

"I've got it."

Sachs gripped the doorknob with her left hand. Her eyes met Lucy's.

One of them – O'Sarian, with Tomel beside him – was lugging the kerosene can toward the cabin, not paying attention to the front door. So that when the two women charged outside, splitting up and sprinting for cover, neither of them got his weapon up in time for a clear shot.

Culbeau – back a ways so he could cover the front and sides of the cabin – must not have been expecting anybody to run either because by the time his deer rifle boomed, both Sachs and Lucy were rolling into the tall grass surrounding the cabin.

O'Sarian and Tomel disappeared into the grass too and Culbeau shouted, "You let 'em get out. What the fuck you doing?" He fired one more shot toward Sachs – she hugged the earth – and when she looked again Culbeau too had dropped into the grass.

Three deadly snakes out there in front of them. And no clue where they might be.

Culbeau called, "Go right."

One of the others responded, "Where?" She thought it was Tomel.

"I think… wait."

Then silence.

Sachs crawled toward where she'd seen Tomel and O'Sarian a moment ago. She could just make out a bit of red and she steered in that direction. The hot breeze pushed the grass aside and she saw it was the kerosene can. She moved a few feet closer and, when the wind cooperated again, aimed low and fired a bullet squarely into the bottom of the can. It shivered under the impact and bled clear liquid.

"Shit," one of the men called and she heard a rustle of grass as, she supposed, he fled from the can, though it didn't ignite.

More rustling, footsteps.

But coming from where?

Then Sachs saw a flash of light about fifty feet into the field. It was near where Culbeau had been and she realized it would be the 'scope or the receiver of his big gun. She lifted her head cautiously and caught Lucy's eye, pointed to herself and then toward the flash. The deputy nodded then gestured around to the flank. Sachs nodded.

But as Lucy started through the grass on the left side of the cabin, running in a crouch, O'Sarian rose and, laughing again madly, began firing with his Colt. Sharp cracks filled the field. Lucy was, momentarily, a clear target and it was only because O'Sarian was an impatient marksman that he missed. The deputy dove prone, as the dirt kicked up around her, then rose and fired one shot at him, a near hit, and the small man dropped to cover, giving a whoop and calling, "Nice try, baby!"