The Empty Chair

could.”
    “And you needed me to help you find her. Not to save her—but so you could kill her and destroy any other evidence she might’ve found.”
    “After you found Garrett and we brought him back from the mill, I left the door to the lockup open so Culbeau and his buddies could, let’s say, talk Garrett into telling us where Mary Beth was. But your friend went and busted him out before they could snatch him.”
    Rhyme said, “And when I found the cabin you called Culbeau and the others. Sent them there to kill us all.”
    “I’m sorry . . . it’s all become a nightmare. Didn’t want it to but . . . there you have it.”
    “A hornets’ nest . . .”
    “Oh, yeah, this town’s got itself a few hornets.”
    Rhyme shook his head. “Tell me, are the fancy cars and the big houses and all the money worth destroying the entire town? Look around you, Bell. It was a child’s funeral the other day but there were no children at the cemetery. Amelia said there are hardly any kids in town anymore. You know why? People’re sterile.”
    “It’s risky when you bargain with the devil,” Bell said shortly. “But, far as I’m concerned, life’s just one big trade-off.” He looked at Rhyme for a long moment, walked to the table. He pulled on latex gloves, picked up the toxaphene jar. He stepped toward Rhyme and slowly began to unscrew the lid.

    Steve Farr roughly led Amelia Sachs to the back door of the lockup, the pistol firmly in the square of her back.
    He was making the classic mistake of holding the muzzle of his weapon against the body of his victim. It gave her leverage—when she stepped outside she’d know exactly where the gun was and could sweep her elbow into it. With some luck Farr would drop the weapon and she’d sprint as fast as she could. If she could make it to Main Street there’d be witnesses and he might hesitate to shoot.
    He opened the back door.
    A stream of hot sunlight flooded into the dusty lockup. She blinked. A fly buzzed around her head.
    As long as Farr stayed right up against her, pressing the gun into her skin, she’d have a chance. . . .
    “What now?” she asked.
    “Free to go,” he said cheerfully, shrugging. She tensed, about to swing into him, planning every move. But then he stepped back fast, shoving her outside into the scruffy lot behind the jail. Farr remained inside, well out of reach.
    From nearby, behind a tall bush in the field, she heard another sound. The cocking of a pistol, she thought.
    “Go ahead,” Farr said. “Git on outa here.”
    She thought of Romeo and Juliet again.
    And of the beautiful cemetery on the hill overlooking Tanner’s Corner they’d driven past what now seemed like a lifetime ago.
    Oh, Rhyme . . .
    The fly zipped past her face. Instinctively she brushed it away and began to walk forward into the low grass.

    Rhyme said to Bell, “Don’t you think somebody might wonder if I die this way? I can hardly open a jar by myself.”
    The sheriff responded, “You bumped the table. The lid wasn’t on tight. It splashed on you. I went for help but we couldn’t save you in time.”
    “Amelia’s not going to let it go. Lucy won’t either.”
    “Your girlfriend’s not going to be a problem for very much longer. And Lucy? She might just get sick again . . . and this time there might not be anything to cut off to save her.”
    Bell hesitated only a moment then he stepped close and poured the liquid over Rhyme’s mouth and nose. The rest he splashed onto the front of his shirt.
    The sheriff dropped the jar onto Rhyme’s lap, stepped back fast and covered his own mouth with a handkerchief.
    Rhyme’s head jerked back, his lips parted involuntarily and some of the liquid slipped into his mouth. He began to choke.
    Bell pulled off the gloves and stuffed them into his slacks. He waited a moment, calmly studying Rhyme, then walked toward the door slowly, unlocked it, swung it open. He called, “There’s been an accident! Somebody, I need help!” He stepped into the corridor. “I need—”
    He walked right into Lucy Kerr’s line of fire, her pistol aimed steadily at his chest.
    “Jesus, Lucy!”
    “That’s enough, Jim. Just hold it right there.”
    The sheriff stepped back. Nathan, the sharpshooting deputy, walked into the room, behind Bell, and snaggedthe sheriff’s pistol from its holster. Another man entered—a large man in a tan suit and white shirt.
    Ben too ran inside, ignored everyone else and hurried