“I’ve got three senior deputies and eight line deputies. We’ve got a communications staff of two and clerical of five. We usually have to share them with Planning and Zoning and DPW—that’s been a sore spot for us—but ’causa the kidnapping and you coming here and all we’ll have every one of ’em we need. The county supervisor’ll support that. I talked to him already.”

Rhyme gazed up at the wall. Frowning.

“What is it?”

“He needs a chalkboard,” Thom said.

“I was thinking of a map of the area. But, yes, I want a blackboard too. A big one.”

“Done deal,” Bell said. Rhyme and Sachs exchanged smiles. This was one of Cousin Roland Bell’s favorite expressions.

“Then if I could see your senior people in here? For a briefing.”

“And air-conditioning,” Thom said. “It needs to be cooler in here.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Bell said casually, a man who probably didn’t understand the North’s obsession with moderate temperatures.

The aide said firmly, “It’s not good for him to be in heat like this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rhyme said.

Thom lifted an eyebrow at Bell and said easily, “We have to cool the room. Or else I’m going to take him back to the hotel.”

“Thom,” Rhyme warned.

“I’m afraid we don’t have any choice,” the aide said.

Bell said, “Not a problem. I’ll take care of it.” He walked to the doorway and called, “Steve, come on in here a minute.”

A young crew-cut man in a deputy’s uniform walked inside. “This’s my brother-in-law, Steve Farr.” He was the tallest of the deputies they’d seen so far—easily six-seven—and had round ears that stuck out comically. He seemed only mildly uneasy at the initial sight of Rhyme and his wide lips soon slipped into an easy smile that suggested both confidence and competence. Bell gave him the job of finding an air conditioner for the lab.

“I’ll get right on it, Jim.” He tugged at his earlobe, turned on his heel like a soldier and vanished into the hall.

A woman stuck her head in the door. “Jim, it’s Sue McConnell on three. She’s really beside herself.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to her. Tell her I’ll be right there.” Bell explained to Rhyme, “Mary Beth’s mother. Poor woman…. Lost her husband to cancer just a year ago and now this happens. I tell you,” he added, shaking his head, “I’ve got a couple of kids myself and I can image what she’s—”

“Jim, I wonder if we could find that map,” Rhyme interrupted. “And get the blackboard set up.”