The Empty Chair

sure . . . I mean, I have classes—”
    “Ben, you have to help us,” Rhyme said curtly.
    The sheriff explained, “Garrett Hanlon.”
    Ben let the name settle in his massive head somewhere. “Oh, that kid in Blackwater Landing.”
    The sheriff explained about the kidnappings and Ed Schaeffer’s wasp attack.
    “Gosh, I’m sorry about Ed,” Ben said. “I met him once at Aunt Lucy’s house and—”
    “So we need you,” Rhyme said, trying to steer the conversation back on track.
    “We don’t have a clue where he’s gone with Lydia,” the sheriff continued. “And we hardly have any time left to save those women. And, well, as you can see—Mr. Rhyme, he needs somebody to help him.”
    “Well . . .” A glance toward, but not at, Rhyme. “It’s just I have this test coming up. I’m in school and all. Like I said.”
    Rhyme said patiently, “We don’t really have any options here, Ben. Garrett’s got three hours on us and he could kill either of his victims at any time—if he hasn’t already.”
    The zoologist looked around the dusty room for a reprieve and found none. “Guess I can stick around for a little while, sir.”
    “Thank you,” Rhyme said. He inhaled into the controller and swung around to the table on which the instruments rested. He stopped and surveyed them. He looked over at Ben. “Now, if you could just change my catheter we’ll get to work.”
    The big man looked stricken. Whispered, “You want me to . . .”
    “It’s a joke,” Thom said.
    But Ben didn’t smile. He just nodded uneasily and with the grace of a bison walked over to the chromatograph and began studying the control panel.

    Sachs jogged into the impromptu lab in the County Building, Jesse Corn keeping up the speedy pace beside her.
    Moving more leisurely, Lucy Kerr joined them a moment later. She said hello to her nephew Ben and introduced the huge man to Sachs and Jesse. Sachs held up one cluster of bags. “This is the evidence from Garrett’sroom,” she said, then held up more bags. “This is from Blackwater Landing—the primary scene.”
    Rhyme looked at the bags but did so with some discouragement. Not only was there very little physical evidence but Rhyme was troubled again by what had occurred to him earlier: he had to analyze the clues without any firsthand knowledge of the surrounding area.
    Fish out of water . . .
    He had a thought.
    “Ben, how long’ve you lived here?” the criminalist asked.
    “All my life, sir.”
    “Good. What’s this general area of the state called?”
    He cleared his throat. “I guess the Northern Coastal Plain.”
    “You have any friends who’re geologists who specialize in the area? Cartographers? Naturalists?”
    “No. They’re all marine biologists.”
    “Rhyme,” Sachs said, “when we were at Blackwater Landing I saw that barge, remember? It was shipping asphalt or tar paper from a factory near here.”
    “Henry Davett’s company,” Lucy said.
    Sachs asked, “Would they have a geologist on staff?”
    “I don’t know about that,” Bell said, “but Davett, he’s an engineer and’s lived here for years. Probably knows the land as good as anybody.”
    “Give him a call, will you?”
    “You bet.” Bell disappeared. He returned a moment later. “I got Davett. There’s no geologist on staff but he said he might be able to help. He’ll be over in a half hour.” Then the sheriff asked, “So, Lincoln, how do you want to handle the pursuit?”
    “I’ll be here, with you and Ben. We’re going to go through the evidence. I want a small search party over at Blackwater Landing now—to where Jesse saw Garrett and Lydia disappear. I’ll guide the team as best I can, depending on what the evidence shows.”
    “Who do you want on the team?”
    “Sachs in charge,” Rhyme said. “Lucy with her.”
    Bell nodded and Rhyme noticed that Lucy gave no reaction to these orders about the chain of command.
    “I’d like to volunteer,” Jesse Corn said quickly.
    Bell looked at Rhyme, who nodded. Then he said, “Probably one other.”
    “Four people? That’s all ?” Bell asked, frowning. “Hell, I could get dozens of volunteers.”
    “No, less is better in a case like this.”
    “Who’s the fourth?” Lucy asked. “Mason Germain?”
    Rhyme looked at the doorway, could see nobody outside. He lowered his voice. “What’s Mason’s story? He’s got some history. I don’t like cops with histories. I like blank slates.”
    Bell