"Deaver, Jeffery - Lincoln Rhyme Series 03 - The Empty Chair(2000)[v1]" - читать интересную книгу автора (Deaver Jeffrey)

shading his eyes from the low sun, surveying the landscape. "Lydia?" he called.

The boy pulled her faster. "Jesus Christ, come on!"

"Hey!" Jesse cried, seeing them at last. He started down the hill.

But they were already at the riverbank, where the boy'd hidden a small skiff under some
reeds and grass. He shoved Lydia into the boat and pushed off, rowing hard to the far side
of the river. He beached the boat and yanked her out. Then dragged her into the woods.

"Where're we going?" she whispered.

"To see Mary Beth. You're going to be with her."

"Why?" Lydia whispered, sobbing now. "Why me?"

But he said nothing more, just clicked his nails together absently and pulled her after him.

"Ed," came Jesse Corn's urgent transmission. "Oh, it's a mess. He's got Lydia. 1 lost him."

"He's what?" Gasping from exertion, Ed Schaeffer stopped. He'd started jogging toward
the river when he'd heard the scream.

"Lydia Johansson. He's got her too."

"Shit," muttered the heavy deputy, who cursed about as frequently as he drew his
sidearm. "Why'd he do that?"

"He's crazy," Jesse said. "That's why. He's over the river and'll be headed your way."

"Okay." Ed thought for a moment. "He'll probably be coming back here to get the stuff in
the blind. I'll hide inside, get him when he comes in. He have a gun?"

"I couldn't see."

Ed sighed. "Okay, well ... Get over here as soon as you can. Call Jim too."

"Already did."

Ed released the red transmit button and looked through the brush toward the river. There
was no sign of the boy and his new victim. Panting, Ed ran back to the blind and found the
door. He kicked it open. It swung inward with a crash and Ed stepped inside fast,
crouching in front of the gun slot.

He was so high on fear and excitement, concentrating so hard on what he was going to do
when the boy got here, that he didn't at first pay any attention to the two or three little
black-and-yellow dots that zipped in front of his face.
Or to the tickle that began at his neck and worked down his spine.

But then the tickling became detonations of fiery pain on his shoulders then along his arms