Her eyes looked over Seth with dismay. She said softly, ‘Think I’ll stay with my family.’

Referring to the foster family who’d raised her, the Olivettis.

A good choice. But Sachs was nonetheless stabbed by jealousy. By the subtle reproach. And the blatant choice of words.

My family.

Which doesn’t include you.

‘I’ll drive you there,’ Sachs said.

‘Or we could take the train,’ Pam said, glancing at Seth.

‘They want me to go to the hospital,’ he said. ‘For tests, I guess. After that I think I’ll just go hang with the guys downtown.’

‘Well, I could go with you. To the hospital at least.’

‘Naw, just after this … kind of want to chill. Get some alone time, you know?’

‘Sure. I guess. If you want.’

He staggered to his feet and walked into her apartment, collected his jacket and computer bag, then returned. He hugged Pam once, in a brotherly way, and pulled on his jacket and snagged his bag, then joined the EMTs outside, who helped him into the ambulance.

‘Pam—’

‘Not a word. Don’t say a word,’ the young woman growled. She pulled out her cell phone and placed a call to her ‘family’, asking for a ride. She walked inside. Sachs asked a patrolman to keep an eye on her until the Olivettis showed up. He said he would.

Then her phone hummed. She glanced at caller ID and answered, saying to Lincoln Rhyme, ‘I’m finished here. I’ll—’

The criminalist’s grim voice interrupted. ‘He got another vic, Sachs.’

Oh, no. ‘Who?’

‘Lon Sellitto.’

CHAPTER 43

Lincoln Rhyme observed that he’d have no problems getting in to the critical care unit of Hunter University Medical Center, where Lon Sellitto had been admitted not long before. The place was, of course, fully disabled accessible. Houses of healing are made for wheels as much as feet.

‘Oh, Lincoln, Amelia.’ Rachel Parker, Sellitto’s partner of many years, rose and gripped Rhyme’s hand and then hugged Sachs. She turned to Thom and threw her arms around him too.

The handsome, solid woman, whose face was red from crying, sat back down in one of the orange Fiberglas chairs in the scuffed room. Two vending machines, one of soda, the other full of sugary or salty treats in crisp cellophane bags, were the only decorations.

‘How is he?’ Sachs asked.