The Skin Collector(Lincoln Rhyme)

Chapter 40





Answer!

Please answer! Sachs gripped her mobile hard and shivered in hopeless rage when Pam’s voice mail came on.

‘If you’re at home, Pam, get out of your house! Now! Go to the Eighty-Fourth Precinct. Gold Street. I think the perp in our case is at your place.’

Her eyes met Rhyme’s, his face equally troubled, and she jammed her finger onto the redial button.

Rhyme asked, ‘Is she working? Or at school?’

‘I don’t know. She works odd hours. And’s in school part-time this semester.’

Ron Pulaski called, ‘There should be a unit there in seven, eight minutes.’

But the question: Is it too late?

The hollow buzzing of the phone filled the speaker.

Goddamn it. Voice mail once more.

No, no …

‘Sachs—’

She ignored Rhyme and hit the redial button again. Why the hell hadn’t they put protection on Pam full-time? True, their unsub’s targets – like the Bone Collector’s – were random and the Skin Collector surely didn’t even know she existed, they’d assumed. But now, of course, he’d decided to target not only those tracking him down, but their friends and family too. It wouldn’t be impossible to discover Pam’s relationship to Rhyme and Sachs. Why hadn’t—


Click. ‘Amelia,’ Pam said, breathless. ‘I got your message. But I’m not home. I’m at work.’

Sachs lowered her head. Thank you, thank you …

‘But Seth’s there! He’s there now. He’s waiting for me. We’re going out later. Amelia, what … what should we do?’

Sachs got his mobile and spun to Pulaski. ‘Call Seth!’ She shouted the number across the room. The young officer dialed fast.

‘The doors are locked, Pam?’

‘Yes, but … Oh, Amelia. Are police there?’

‘They’re on their way. Stay where you are. And—’

‘Stay where I am? I’m going home. I’m going there now.’

‘No. Don’t do that.’

Pam’s voice was ragged, accusatory. ‘Why’s he doing this? Why is he at my apartment?’

‘Stay where—’

The girl hung up.

‘It’s ringing.’ Pulaski’s expression changed instantly.

‘Speaker,’ Rhyme snapped.

The young officer hit the button. Seth’s voice came from the line. ‘Hello?’

‘Seth, it’s Lincoln Rhyme.’

‘Hey, how—’

‘Listen to me carefully. Get out. Somebody’s breaking into the apartment. Get out now!’

‘Here? What do you mean? Is Pam all right?’

‘She’s okay. Police are coming but you have to get out. Drop whatever you’re doing and leave. Go out the front door and get to the Eighty-Fourth Precinct. It’s on Gold Street. Or at least some populated place. Call Amelia or me as soon as—’

Seth’s next words were muted, as if he was turning and the phone was no longer next to his mouth. ‘Hey!’

A sound like breaking glass could be heard and another voice, a man’s: ‘You. Put the phone down.’

‘The hell’re you—’

Then several thuds. Seth screamed.

And the line went dead.