With this blow the ax broke through the door. Tom disappeared from the window and joined his friend.

“Keep going, boy,” he called encouragingly. “You’re on a roll.”

Thunk.

… chapter thirty-five

His worry now was that she’d hurt herself.

Since he’d known Amelia Sachs, Lincoln Rhyme had watched her hands disappear into her scalp and return bloody. He’d watched her worry nails with teeth, and skin with nails. He’d seen her drive at a hundred fifty miles per hour. He didn’t know exactly what pushed her but he knew there was something within her that made Amelia Sachs live on the edge.

Now that this had happened, now that she’d killed, the anxieties might push her over the line. After the accident that left Rhyme a broken man, Terry Dobyns, the NYPD psychologist, had explained to him that, yes, he would feel like killing himself. But it wasn’t depression that would motivate him to act. Depression depleted your energy; the main cause of suicide was a deadly fusion of hopelessness, anxiety and panic.

Which would be exactly what Amelia Sachs—hunted, betrayed by her own nature—would be feeling right now.

Find her! was his only thought. Find her fast.

But where was she? The answer to that question still eluded him.

He looked at the chart again. There was no evidence from the trailer. Lucy and the other deputies had searched it fast—too fast, of course. They were under the spell of hunt lust—even immobilized Rhyme often felt this—and the deputies were desperate to get on the trail of the enemy who’d killed their friend.

The only clues he had to Mary Beth’s location—to where Garrett and Sachs were now headed—were right in front of him. But they were as enigmatic as any set of clues he’d ever analyzed.

FOUND AT THE SECONDARY CRIME SCENE—MILL

Brown Paint on Pants
Sundew Plant
Clay
Peat Moss
Fruit Juice
Paper Fibers
Stinkball Bait
Sugar
Camphene
Alcohol
Kerosene
Yeast

We need more evidence! he raged to himself.

But we don’t have any more goddamn evidence.

When Rhyme was mired smack in the denial stage of grief, after the accident, he had tried to summon superhuman willpower to make his body move. He had recalled the stories of the people who lifted cars off children or had run at impossible speeds to find help in emergencies. But he’d finally accepted that those types of strength were no longer available to him.

But he did have one type of strength left—mental strength.

Think! All you have is your mind and the evidence that’s in front of you. The evidence isn’t going to change.

So change the way you’re thinking.