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They stood in the man's paneled den, looking over the gun cases the same way Culbeau and O'Sarian had stood at the penny candy rack in Peterson's Drugs on Maple Street twenty years ago, deciding what to steal.
O'Sarian picked the black Colt AR-15, the civvy version of the M-16, because he was always yammering on and on about Vietnam and watched every war movie he could find.
Tomel took the beautiful Browning shotgun with the inlay, which Culbeau coveted as much as he coveted any woman in the county, even though he himself was a rifle man and would rather drill a hole in a deer's heart from three hundred yards than blow a duck into a dust of feathers. For himself, today, he chose Tomel's nifty Winchester .30-06 with a 'scope the size of Texas.
They packed plenty of ammo, water, Culbeau's cell phone and food. 'Shine of course.
Sleeping bags, too. Though none of them expected the hunt to last very long.
... chapter twenty-four
A grim Lincoln Rhyme wheeled into the dismantled forensic lab in the Paquenoke County Building.
Lucy Kerr and Mason Germain stood beside the fiber-board table that had held the microscopes. Their arms were crossed and, as Thom and Rhyme entered, both deputies regarded the criminalist and his aide with a blend of contempt and suspicion.
"How the hell could she do it?" Mason asked. "What was she thinking of?"
But these were two of many questions about Amelia Sachs and what she'd done that couldn't be answered, not yet, and so Rhyme asked merely, "Was anybody hurt?"
"No," Lucy said. "But Nathan was pretty shook up, looking down the barrel of that Smith and Wesson. Which we were crazy enough to give her."
Rhyme struggled to remain outwardly calm, yet his heart was pierced with fear for Sachs. Lincoln Rhyme trusted evidence before all else and the evidence showed clearly that Garrett Hanlon was a kidnapper and killer. Sachs, tricked by his calculated facade, was as much at risk as Mary Beth or Lydia.
Jim Bell entered the room.
"Did she take a car?" Rhyme continued.
"I don't think so," Bell said. "I asked around. No vehicles missing yet."
Bell looked at the map, still taped to the wall. "This isn't an easy area to get out of and not get seen. Lot of marshland, not many roads. I've--"
Lucy said, "Get some dogs, Jim. Irv Wanner runs a couple hounds for the state police. Call Captain Dexter in Elizabeth City and get Irv's number. He'll track 'em down."
"Good idea," Bell said. "We'll--"
"I want to propose something," Rhyme interrupted.
Mason gave a cold laugh.
"What?" Bell asked.
"I'll make a deal with you."
"No deals," Bell said. "She's a fleeing felon. And armed, to boot."
"She's not going to shoot anybody," Thom said.
Rhyme continued, "Amelia's convinced there's no other way to f
ind Mary Beth. That's why she did it. They're going to where she's being held."
"Doesn't matter," Bell said. "You can't go breaking murderers out of jail."
"Give me twenty-four hours before you call the state police. I'll find them for you. We can work something out with the charges. But if troopers and dogs get involved we all know they'll play it by the book and that means there's a good chance of people getting hurt."
"That's a hell of a deal, Lincoln," Bell said. "Your friend busts out our prisoner--"
"He wouldn't be your prisoner if it weren't for me. You never would've found him on your own."
