Bell gave a disgusted sigh. “He’s got a pickup. No place to hide. Not for them anyway. But there was plenty of room for her cell phone. Behind a cooler he had in the back.”

Rhyme too now barked a cynical laugh. “She called the rental company, got put on hold and hid the phone in the truck.”

“You got that right,” Bell muttered.

Thom said, “Remember, Lincoln, she called that rental place this morning. She was mad because she was on hold for so long.”

“She knew we’d have a locator on the phone,” Bell said. “They waited till Lucy and the squad cars left Canal Road and then went on their merry goddamn way.” He looked at the map. “They’ve got forty minutes on us. They could be anywhere.”

… chapter twenty-seven

After the police cruisers had abandoned the roadblock and disappeared west down Route 112, Garrett and Sachs jogged to the end of Canal Road and crossed the highway.

They skirted the Blackwater Landing crime scenes then turned left and moved quickly through brush and an oak forest, following the Paquenoke River.

A half mile into the forest they came to a tributary of the Paquo. It was impossible to go around and Sachs had no desire to swim across the dark water, dotted with insects and slime and trash.

But Garrett had made other arrangements. He pointed his cuffed hands to a place on the shore. “The boat.”

“Boat? Where?”

“There, there.” He pointed again.

She squinted and could just make out the shape of a small boat. It was covered with brush and leaves. Garrett walked to it, and working as best he could with the handcuffs on, began stripping off the foliage hiding the vessel. Sachs helped him.

“Camouflage,” he said proudly. “I learned it from insects. There’s this little cricket in France—the truxalis. This is totally cool—it changes its color three times a summer to match the different greens of grass during the season. Predators can hardly see it.”

Well, Sachs too had used some of the boy’s esoteric knowledge about insects. When Garrett had commented on the moths—their ability to sense electronic and radio signals—she’d realized that of course Rhyme had set up a locator on her cell phone. She’d remembered that she’d been on hold for a long time at Piedmont-Carolina Car Rental that morning. Then she’d snuck into the Davett Industries parking lot, called the rental company and slipped the phone, playing interminable Muzak, into the back of an unoccupied pickup truck whose motor’d been running, parked in front of the employee entrance to the building.

The trick had apparently worked. The deputies took off after the truck when it left the grounds.

As they uncovered the boat Sachs now asked Garrett, “The ammonia? And the pit with the wasps’ nest. You learned those from the insects too?”

“Yeah,” he said.