Their eyes met and for a moment there was a thick silence in the room. Davett shrugged and looked away first but this disengagement was not a concession that Rhyme might be correct. It was just the opposite: an emphatic protest that by ignoring his advice Rhyme and Bell were proceeding at their own peril.

“Henry,” Bell said, “I agreed to let Mr. Rhyme run the show. We’re pretty thankful to him.”

Part of the sheriff’s comments were intended for Rhyme himself—implicitly apologizing for Davett.

But for his part Rhyme was delighted to be on the receiving end of Davett’s bluntness. It was a shocking admission for him but Rhyme, who believed not at all in omens, felt the man’s presence now was a sign—that the surgery would go well and would have some beneficial effect on his condition. He felt this because of the brief exchange that had just occurred—in which this tough businessman had looked him in the eye and told him he was dead wrong. Davett didn’t even notice Rhyme’s condition; all he saw was Rhyme’s actions, his decision, his attitude. His damaged body was irrelevant to Davett. Dr. Weaver’s magic hands would move him a step closer to a place where more people would treat him this way.

The businessman said, “I’ll pray for those girls.” Then turned to Rhyme. “I’ll pray for you too, sir.” The glance lasted a moment longer than a valediction normally would and Rhyme sensed the last promise was meant sincerely—and literally. He walked out the door.

“Henry’s a bit opinionated,” Bell said when Davett had left.

“And he’s got his own interests here, right?” Rhyme asked.

“The girl who died from the hornets last year. Meg Blanchard….”

Got herself stung 137 times. Rhyme nodded.

Bell continued, “She worked for Henry’s company. Went to the same church he and his family belong to too. He’s no different from most folks here—he thinks the town’d be better off without Garrett Hanlon in it. He just tends to think his way is the best way to handle things.”

Church … prayer … Rhyme suddenly understood something. He said to Bell, “Davett’s tie bar. The J stands for Jesus?”

Bell laughed. “You got that right. Oh, Henry’d drive a competitor out of business without a blink but he’s a deacon in church. Goes three times a week or so. One of the reasons he’d like to send an army out after Garrett is that he’s thinking that the boy’s probably a heathen.”

Rhyme still couldn’t figure out the rest of the initials. “I give up. What’re the other letters?”