The Empty Chair

not, she hadn’t killed an innocent man.
    The prosecutor sighed deeply. Then nodded. Quickly, as if he might change his mind, he said, “Deal.” He looked at the bench. “Your Honor, in the case of the People versus Sachs, the state is withdrawing all charges.”
    “So ordered,” said the bored judge. “Defendant is free to go. Next case.” He didn’t even bother to bang down his gavel.

. . . chapter forty-five
    “I didn’t know whether you’d show up,” Lincoln Rhyme said.
    He was, in fact, surprised.
    “Wasn’t sure I was going to either,” Sachs replied.
    They were in his hospital room at the medical center in Avery.
    He said, “I just got back from visiting Thom on the fifth floor. That’s pretty odd— I’m more mobile than he is.”
    “How is he?”
    “He’ll be fine. He should be out in a day or two. I told him he was about to see physical therapy from a whole new angle. He didn’t laugh.”
    A pleasant Guatemalan woman—the temporary caregiver—sat in the corner, knitting a yellow-and-red shawl. She seemed to be weathering Rhyme’s moods though he believed that this was because she didn’t understand English well enough to appreciate his sarcasm and insults.
    “You know, Sachs,” Rhyme said, “when I heard you’d busted Garrett out of detention it half occurred to meyou’d done it to give me a chance to rethink the operation.”
    A smile curved her Julia Roberts lips. “Maybe there was a bit of that.”
    “So you’re here now to talk me out of it?”
    She rose from the chair and walked to the window. “Pretty view.”
    “Peaceful, isn’t it. Fountain and garden. Plants. Don’t know what kind.”
    “Lucy could tell you. She knows plants the way Garrett knows bugs. Excuse me, insects. A bug is only one type of insect. . . . No, Rhyme, I’m not here to talk you out of it. I’m here to be with you now and to be in the recovery room when you wake up.”
    “Change of heart?”
    She turned to him. “When Garrett and I were on the run he was telling me about something he read in that book of his. The Miniature World. ”
    “I have a new respect for dung beetles after reading it,” Rhyme said.
    “There was something he showed me, a passage. It was a list of the characteristics of living creatures. One of them was that healthy creatures strive to grow and to adapt to the environment. I realized that’s something you have to do, Rhyme—have this surgery. I can’t interfere with it.”
    After a moment he said, “I know it’s not going to cure me, Sachs. But what’s the nature of our business? It’s little victories. We find a fiber here, a partial latent friction ridge there, a few grains of sand that might lead to the killer’s house. That’s all I’m after here—a little improvement. I’m not climbing out of this chair, I know that. But I need a little victory.”
    Maybe the chance to hold your hand for real.
    She bent down, kissed him hard, then sat on the bed.
    “What’s that look, Sachs? You seem a bit coy.”
    “That passage in Garrett’s book?”
    “Right.”
    “There was another characteristic of living creatures I wanted to mention.”
    “Which is?” he asked.
    “All living creatures strive to continue the species.”
    Rhyme grumbled, “Do I sense another plea bargain here? A deal of some kind?”
    She said, “Maybe we can talk about some things when we get back to New York.”
    A nurse appeared in the doorway. “I need to take you to pre-op, Mr. Rhyme. You ready for a ride?”
    “Oh, you bet I am. . . .” He turned back to Sachs. “Sure, we’ll talk.”
    She kissed him again and squeezed his left hand, where he could, just faintly, feel the pressure in his ring finger.

    The two women sat side by side in a thick shaft of sunlight.
    Two paper cups of very bad vending-machine coffee were in front of them, perched on an orange table covered with brown burn marks from in the days when smoking had been permitted in hospitals.
    Amelia Sachs glanced at Lucy Kerr, who sat forward, hands together, subdued.
    “What’s up?” Sachs asked her. “You all right?”
    The deputy hesitated then finally said, “Oncology’s on the next wing over. I spent months there. Before and after the operation.” She shook her head. “I never told anybody this but the Thanksgiving Day after Buddy left me I came here. Just hung out. Had coffee and tuna sandwiches with the nurses. Isn’t that a kick? I could’ve gone to see my parents and cousins in