He was making the classic mistake of holding the muzzle of his weapon against the body of his victim. It gave her leverage—when she stepped outside she’d know exactly where the gun was and could sweep her elbow into it. With some luck Farr would drop the weapon and she’d sprint as fast as she could. If she could make it to Main Street there’d be witnesses and he might hesitate to shoot.

He opened the back door.

A stream of hot sunlight flooded into the dusty lockup. She blinked. A fly buzzed around her head.

As long as Farr stayed right up against her, pressing the gun into her skin, she’d have a chance….

“What now?” she asked.

“Free to go,” he said cheerfully, shrugging. She tensed, about to swing into him, planning every move. But then he stepped back fast, shoving her outside into the scruffy lot behind the jail. Farr remained inside, well out of reach.

From nearby, behind a tall bush in the field, she heard another sound. The cocking of a pistol, she thought.

“Go ahead,” Farr said. “Git on outa here.”

She thought of Romeo and Juliet again.

And of the beautiful cemetery on the hill overlooking Tanner’s Corner they’d driven past what now seemed like a lifetime ago.

Oh, Rhyme …

The fly zipped past her face. Instinctively she brushed it away and began to walk forward into the low grass.

Rhyme said to Bell, “Don’t you think somebody might wonder if I die this way? I can hardly open a jar by myself.”

The sheriff responded, “You bumped the table. The lid wasn’t on tight. It splashed on you. I went for help but we couldn’t save you in time.”

“Amelia’s not going to let it go. Lucy won’t either.”

“Your girlfriend’s not going to be a problem for very much longer. And Lucy? She might just get sick again … and this time there might not be anything to cut off to save her.”

Bell hesitated only a moment then he stepped close and poured the liquid over Rhyme’s mouth and nose. The rest he splashed onto the front of his shirt.

The sheriff dropped the jar onto Rhyme’s lap, stepped back fast and covered his own mouth with a handkerchief.

Rhyme’s head jerked back, his lips parted involuntarily and some of the liquid slipped into his mouth. He began to choke.

Bell pulled off the gloves and stuffed them into his slacks. He waited a moment, calmly studying Rhyme, then walked toward the door slowly, unlocked it, swung it open. He called, “There’s been an accident! Somebody, I need help!” He stepped into the corridor. “I need—”

He walked right into Lucy Kerr’s line of fire, her pistol aimed steadily at his chest.

“Jesus, Lucy!”

“That’s enough, Jim. Just hold it right there.”