"Ha. Very funny. Endangered."
Sachs walked around behind Rhyme's wheelchair and gripped his shoulders, massaged. Sachs was tall and in better shape than most NYPD detectives her age and, though arthritis often plagued her knees and lower extremities, her arms and hands were strong and largely pain-free.
They wore their work clothes: Rhyme was in black sweat pants and a knit shirt of dark green. Sachs had shed her navy blue jacket but was wearing matching slacks and a white cotton blouse, one button open at the collar, pearls present. Her Glock was high on her hip in a fast-draw polymer holster, and two magazines sat side by side in holsters of their own, along with a Taser.
Rhyme could feel the pulsing of her fingers; he had perfect sensation above his upper chest--the level where he'd sustained a nearly fatal spinal cord fracture some years ago, the fourth cervical vertebra. Although at one point he'd considered risky surgery to improve his condition, he'd opted for a different rehabilitative approach. Through an exhausting regimen of exercise and therapy he'd managed to regain some use of his fingers and hand. He could also use his left ring finger, which had for some reason remained intact after the subway beam broke his neck.
He now enjoyed her fingers digging into his flesh. It was as if the small percentage of remaining sensation in his body was enhanced. He glanced down at the useless legs. He closed his eyes.
Thom now looked him over carefully. "You all right, Lincoln?"
"All right? Aside from the fact that the perp I've been searching for for years slipped out of our grasp and is now hiding out in the second largest metropolitan area in this hemisphere, I'm just peachy."
"That's not what I'm talking about. You're not looking too good."
"You're right. Actually I need some medicine."
"Medicine?"
"Whisky. I'd feel better with some whisky."
"No, you wouldn't."
"Well, why don't we try an experiment. Science. Cartesian. Rational. Who can argue with that? I know how I feel now. Then I'll have some whisky and I'll tell you how I feel after. I'll report back to you."
"No. It's too early," Thom said matter-of-factly.
"It's afternoon."
"By a few minutes."
"Goddamn it." Rhyme sounded gruff, but in fact he was losing himself in Sachs's massage. A few strings of red hair had escaped from her ponytail and hung tickling against his cheek. He didn't move away. Since he'd apparently lost the single-malt battle, he was ignoring Thom, but the aide brought his attention around quickly by saying, "When you were on the phone, Lon called."
"He did? Why didn't you tell me?"
"You said you didn't want to be disturbed while you were talking with Kathryn."
"Well, tell me now."
"He'll call back. Something about a case. A problem."
"Really?" The Watchmaker receded somewhat at this news. Rhyme understood that there was another source of his bad mood: boredom. He'd just finished analyzing the evidence for a complicated organized crime case and was facing several weeks with nothing to do. So he was buoyed by the thought of another job. Like Sachs's craving speed, Rhyme needed problems, challenges, input. One of the difficulties with a severe disability that few people focus on is the absence of anything new. The same settings, the same people, the same activities . . . and the same platitudes, the same empty reassurances, the same reports from unemotional doctors.
What had saved his life after his injury--literally, since he'd been considering assisted suicide--was his tentative steps back into his prior passion: using science to solve crimes.
You could never be bored when you confronted mystery.
Thom persisted, "Are you sure you're up for it? You're looking a little pale."
"Haven't been to the beach lately, you know."
"All right. Just checking."
Then Rhyme's phone blared and Detective Lieutenant Lon Sellitto's number showed up on caller ID.
Rhyme used a working finger on his right hand to answer.
"Lon."
"Linc, listen, here's the thing." He was harried and, to judge from the surround-sound acoustics piping through the speaker, apparently driving somewhere quickly. "We may have a terrorist situation going on."
"Situation? That's not very specific."
"Okay, how's this? Somebody fucked with the power company, shot a five-thousand-degree spark at a Metro bus and shut down the electric grid for six square blocks south of Lincoln Center. That specific enough for you?"
JEFFERY DEAVER is the New York Times bestselling author of twenty-six suspense novels, and the originator of the acclaimed detective hero Lincoln Rhyme, featured in the bestsellers The Broken Window, The Cold Moon, The Twelfth Card, The Vanished Man, The Stone Monkey, The Empty Chair, The Coffin Dancer, and The Bone Collector. In several recent novels, he introduced two new dynamic thriller stars: investigative agent Kathryn Dance headlines Roadside Crosses and The Sleeping Doll; sheriff's deputy Brynn McKenzie debuted in The Bodies Left Behind, winner of the 2009 Best Novel of the Year Award from the International Thriller Writers organization. As William Jefferies, he is the author of Shallow Graves, Bloody River Blues, and Hell's Kitchen. His short fiction is anthologized in two collections from Pocket Books: Twisted and More Twisted.
He's been nominated for six Edgar Awards from the Mystery Writers of America, an Anthony Award, and a Gumshoe Award, and was recently shortlisted for the ITV3 Crime Thriller Award for Best International Author. He is a three-time recipient of the Ellery Queen Readers Award for Best Short Story of the Year, and a winner of the British Thumping Good Read Award. He has also won a Steel Dagger for best thriller of the year for Garden of Beasts and a Short Story Dagger from the British Crime Writers' Association. His thriller The Cold Moon won a Grand Prix from the Japanese Adventure Fiction Association and was named Book of the Year by the Mystery Writers Association of Japan. His novel The Bone Collector became a Universal Pictures feature film starring Denzel Washington and Angelina Jolie. A former attorney, Deaver has been hailed as "the best psychological thriller writer around" (The Times, London).
Visit his website at www.jefferydeaver.com.
AUDIO EDITION ALSO AVAILABLE
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THE SOURCE FOR READING GROUPS
AUTHOR PHOTO BY JERRY BAUER
ALSO BY JEFFERY DEAVER
Carte Blanche
Edge
The Burning Wire*
Best American Mystery Stories 2009 (Editor) The Watch List (The Copper Bracelet and The Chopin Manuscript) (Contributor) Roadside Crosses**
The Bodies Left Behind
The Broken Window*
The Sleeping Doll**
More Twisted: Collected Stories, Volume Two The Cold Moon*/**
The Twelfth Card*
Garden of Beasts
Twisted: Collected Stories The Vanished Man*
The Stone Monkey*
The Blue Nowhere
The Empty Chair*
Speaking in Tongues
The Devil's Teardrop
The Coffin Dancer*
The Bone Collector*
A Maiden's Grave
Praying for Sleep
The Lesson of Her Death Mistress of Justice
Hard News
Death of a Blue Movie Star Manhattan Is My Beat
Hell's Kitchen
Bloody River Blues
Shallow Graves
A Century of Great Suspense Stories (Editor) A Hot and Sultry Night for Crime (Editor) Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (Introduction) *Featuring Lincoln Rhyme and Amelia Sachs **Featuring Kathryn Dance
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright (c) 2009 by Jeffery Deaver All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Simon & Schuster, Inc. Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.
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Cover design by Jackie Seow
Cover art by Debra Lill, photo by Getty Images ISBN 978-1-4165-5000-6
ISBN 978-1-4391-6602-4 (ebook)
Jeffery Deaver, Roadside Crosses
(Series: Kathryn Dance # 2)
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