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"Garrett didn't kill Billy?"
"No, no, no.... He only hit Billy once or twice. Knocked him out but didn't hurt him that seriously. Then Garrett took Mary Beth away with him to the moonshiners' cabin. Mason was the first on the scene. He admitted that."
"That's right. He took the call."
"Kind of a coincidence that he was nearby, don't you think?" Rhyme asked.
"I guess. I didn't think about it at the time."
"Mason found Billy. He picked up the shovel--wearing latex evidence gloves--and beat the boy until he died."
"How do you know that?"
"Because of the position of the latex prints. I had Ben reexamine the handle of the shovel an hour ago with an alternative light source. Mason held the shovel like a baseball bat. That's not how somebody would pick up evidence at a crime scene. And he adjusted his grip a number of times to get better leverage. When Sachs was at the crime scene she said the blood pattern showed Billy'd been hit first in the head and knocked down. But he was still alive. Until Mason hit him in the neck with the shovel."
Bell looked out the window, his face hollow. "Why would Mason kill Billy?"
"He probably figured that Billy'd panic and tell the truth. Or maybe the boy was conscious when Mason got there and said he was fed up and wanted out of the deal."
"So that's why you wanted Mason to leave ... a few minutes ago. I wondered what that was about. So how're we going to prove all of this, Lincoln?"
"I've got the latex prints on the shovel. I've got the bones, which test positive for toxaphene in high concentrations. I want to get a diver and look for the Hanlons' car in the Paquenoke. Some evidence will've survived--even after five years. Then we should search Billy's house and see if there's any cash there that can be traced to Mason. And we'll search Mason's house too. It'll be a tough case." Rhyme gave a faint smile. "But I'm good, Jim. I can do it." Then his smile faded. "But if Mason doesn't turn state's evidence against Henry Davett it's going to be tough to make the case against him. All I've got's that." Rhyme nodded to a plastic exemplar jar filled with about eight ounces of pale liquid.
"What's that?"
"Pure toxaphene. Lucy got a sample from Davett's warehouse a half hour ago. She said there must've been ten thousand gallons of the stuff there. If we can establish a compositional identity between the chemical that killed Garrett's family and what's in that jar we might convince the prosecutor to bring a case against Davett."
"But Davett helped us find Garrett."
"Of course he did. It was in his interest to find the boy--and Mary Beth--as fast as possible. Davett was the one who wanted her dead most of all."
"Mason," Bell muttered, shaking his head. "I've known him for years ...You think he suspects?"
"You're the only one I've told. I didn't even tell Lucy--I just had her do some legwork for me. I was afraid somebody'd overhear and word'd get back to Mason or Davett. This town, Jim, it's a nest of hornets. I don't know who to trust."
Bell sighed. "How can you be so sure it's Mason?"
"Because Culbeau and his friends showed up at the moonshiners' cabin just after we figured out where it was. And Mason was the only one who knew that ... aside from me and you and Ben. He must've called Culbeau and told him where the cabin was. So ... let's call the state police, have one of their divers come on down here and check out Blackwater Landing. We should get on those warrants to search Billy's and Mason's houses too."
Rhyme watched Bell nod. But instead of going to the phone he walked to the window and slid it shut. Then he stepped to the door again, opened it, looked out, closed it.
Locked the latch.
"Jim, what're you doing?"
Bell hesitated then took a step toward Rhyme.
The criminalist looked once into the sheriff's eyes and gripped the sip-and-puff controller quickly between his teeth. He blew into it and the wheelchair started forward. But Bell stepped behind him and yanked the battery cable free. The Storm Arrow eased forward a few inches and stopped.
"Jim," he whispered. "Not you too?"
"You got that right."
Rhyme's eyes closed. "No, no," he whispered. His head dipped. But only a few millimeters. As with most great men Lincoln Rhyme's gestures of defeat were very subtle.
V
The Town Without Children
