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"No damn way," Mason said. "We're wasting time and they're getting farther away every minute we've wasted talking. I'm of a mind to get every man in town out looking for 'em now. Deputize the lot. Do what Henry Davett suggested. Pass out rifles and--"
Bell interrupted him and asked Rhyme, "If we give you your twenty-four hours then what's in it for us?"
"I'll stay and help you find Mary Beth. However long it takes."
Thom said, "The operation, Lincoln ..."
"Forget the operation," he muttered, feeling the despair as he said this. He knew that Dr. Weaver's schedule was so tight that if he missed his appointed date on the table he'd have to go back on the waiting list. Then it crossed his mind that one reason Sachs had done this was to keep Rhyme from having the surgery. To buy a few more days and give him a chance to change his mind. But he pushed this thought aside, raging to himself: Find her, save her. Before Garrett adds her to the list of his victims.
Stung 137 times.
Lucy said, "We're looking at a bit of, what would you say, divided loyalty here, aren't we?"
Mason: "Yeah, how do we know you aren't gonna send us 'round Robin Hood's barn and let her get away?"
"Because," Rhyme said patiently, "Amelia's wrong. Garrett is a murderer and he just used her to break out of jail. Once he doesn't need her he'll kill her."
Bell paced for a moment, gazing up at the map. "Okay, we'll do it, Lincoln. You've got twenty-four hours."
Mason sighed. "And how the hell're you going to find her in that wilderness?" He motioned toward the map. "You just going to call her up and ask where she is?"
"That's exactly what I'm going to do. Thom, let's get the equipment set up again. And somebody get Ben Kerr back here!"
Lucy Kerr stood in the office adjacent to the war room, on the phone.
"North Carolina State Police, Elizabeth City," the woman's crisp voice answered. "How can I help you?"
"Detective Gregg."
"Hold, please."
"'Lo?" asked a man's voice after a moment.
"Pete, s'Lucy Kerr over in Tanner's Corner."
"Hey, Lucy, how's it going? What's with those missing girls?"
"Got that under control," she said, her voice calm, though she was enraged that Bell had insisted she recite the words Lincoln Rhyme had dictated to her. "But we do have another little problem."
Little problem...
"Whatcha need? A couple troopers?"
"No, just a cell phone trace."
"Got a warrant?"
"Magistrate's clerk's faxing it to you right now."
"Gimme the phone and serial numbers."
She gave him the information.
"What's that area code, two one two?"
"It's a New York number. Party's roaming now."
"Not a problem," Gregg said. "You want a tape of the conversation?"
