The Steel Kiss

Archer gave a coy smile. “As if he doesn’t know.” She continued, “I decided that I’d never be in a relationship, never even think about that. Get my new profession, one that was fulfilling, challenging. Raise my son as best I could. Have friends who could deal with quadriplegia. Not the life I’d planned on or wanted but a decent life. Then—don’t you love the way fate works? — then I met somebody. It was about three months ago, just after the neurologist confirmed that the disability would probably be as severe as they’d thought. Brad. That was his name. Met him at my son’s birthday party. Single father. An MD. It really clicked between us. I told him right up front about the tumor, the surgery. He’s cardio but knew generally about the condition. He didn’t seem to care and we went out for a while.”

Sachs said, “But you broke it off.”

“I did, yes. I was probably going stone-cold gimp in a year. He was a jogger and a sailor. Now, that is a combination you don’t really find in the same column on Match Dot Com or eHarmony, do you? Brad was pretty upset when I told him. But I knew it was best. For both of us.” She gave a wisp of a laugh. “Can you see where this is going?”

Rhyme didn’t. Not at all. But he noticed Sachs had a faint smile on her face.

Archer continued, “Then I saw you two together. Began to think maybe I’d made a mistake. I called him back last night. We’re going out this weekend. Who knows? Maybe in six months we’ll be engaged. Like you two. Have you set a date yet?”

Sachs shook her head. “Not yet. Soon.”

Archer smiled. “Did he propose romantically?”

“Hardly got down on one knee, now, did I?” Rhyme muttered.

Sachs said, “I think it was, ‘There seems to be no objective or practical reason for not getting married. What’s your input on the subject?’ ”

Archer laughed.

Rhyme frowned. “Nothing funny about that. I gave an accurate assessment of the situation, coupled with a request for further data that might be helpful in reaching a conclusion. Made perfect sense to me.”

Archer was glancing at Sachs’s left hand. “I was noticing your ring. Beautiful.”

Sachs held up her ring finger, displaying the two-carat blue stone. “Lincoln picked it. It’s from Australia.”

“Sapphire?”

“No, a diamond.”

“Not particularly valuable,” Rhyme said analytically. “But rare. A class two-b. I was intrigued by the color. Blue because of scattered boron in the matrix. A semiconductor, by the way. The only diamond that has that characteristic.”

“You having a honeymoon?”

Rhyme said, “I was thinking Nassau. The last time I was in the Bahamas I was almost shot and almost drowned. Both within five minutes. I’d like to go back and have a more peaceful time of it. And there’s friend I’d like to see. His wife makes excellent conch fritters.”

“I expect an invite to the wedding.”

Sachs tilted her head. “There’re some openings for the wedding party.”

“Just ask, I’ll be there.”

The doorbell buzzed. Rhyme glanced at the screen. Archer’s brother had arrived to pick her up. Thom let Randy into the room. He greeted Rhyme and Sachs with a nod and hurried to his sister. “You all right, Jule? Your face!”

“No, no, it’s okay. A little bruised.”

Archer turned her chair to Rhyme. “I’m going out of character again.”

He lifted an eyebrow.

She rose from the chair, walked to Rhyme and put her arms around him, hugged hard. At least, that was his deduction, since he couldn’t feel the pressure. A similar embrace for Sachs, then she dropped back into the Storm Arrow and, with her brother behind, wheeled out.

“Back tomorrow early,” Rhyme called.

He laughed as she lifted her left arm and gave a thumbs-up.

When they’d left Rhyme said, “I talked to your mom. She’s in good spirits. When’s the surgery?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

He observed her wan face, peering out the window. “The other situation?” He was referring to Nick. The other night she’d told him everything about his reappearance—and her suspicion of him, that she’d spent the night at Nick’s to place a tracking app on his phone.

A preface like that, Sachs? Pray continue…

No reaction for a moment. She was immobile, looking out over Central Park.

“Turned out the way I was afraid it would. Worse, actually. He tried to order a hit on somebody.”

Rhyme grimaced and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Fred’ll run him for a while. We’ll get half-dozen others, high-ups in the OC chain. Then cut him loose.”

“One thing you never told me, Sachs.”

The rattan chair she sat in gave its unique caw as she turned his way. She tilted her head, brushed her hair back. Rhyme liked her wearing it down, rather than in a bun.

“What’s that?”

“Why did you get suspicious of Nick? Everything he told you, how he acted…  it sounded credible. To me, at least.”