Broken Prey

"I heard about it. It's right across the county line, think O'Do

"I'm sure our killer did it, O'Do

Nordwall's mouth dropped open. After a few seconds, he said, "You gotta be shittin' me," and Lucas had to smile.

LUCAS EXPLAINED. Going back in the door, Nordwall muttered, "You're playing a dangerous game, Lucas. It's the right thing, but if you don't get this guy… the media are go

"We're go

They worked out a program and started ru

21

AN HOUR AFTER Lucas got back to BCA headquarters, the cops at Mi

"Don't touch it," Lucas said. "I'm sending my crime-scene guys over. Have somebody stand by the truck."

While the crime-scene truck rolled, Lucas got the co-op center calling the airlines, looking for the ride that O'Do

Hopping Crow called: "The blood in the refrigerator was frozen, of course. We don't have a DNA yet, maybe by tomorrow. I can tell you that it's human, and that it's Charlie Pope's blood type. Pope was an O positive, O'Do

"So Pope's blood was in O'Do

"Probably his. Peterson's was also O, but we don't have any reason to think her blood was frozen."

HE WAS IN his office when the Crime Scene crew called. "The parking ticket on the floor was from seven o'clock last night."

"I'll pass it on to the coordination center. What else?"

"Nothing really, just the usual car junk. He was pretty neat. We'll be done in a half hour. You want us to take it to the impound?"

"Yeah. Seal it up. We may want to go over it with a microscope, depending on how things break."

The same guy called back twenty minutes later. "We found some blood. It was under the mat in the cargo compartment. It looks rela-tively fresh… it's dry, but not dusty. Thought you ought to know."

"We need a blood type and DNA," Lucas said, "Get it back here as quick as you can."

THEY WERE RUNNING NOW. He got another blood type: it was O again, could be Pope, could be Peterson. He made a mental bet on Peterson. He called Hopping Crow, to tell him to push the tests. "We'll know by tomorrow night," Hopping Crow said. "Who knows, maybe it's somebody else?"

"Don't even think that."

They picked up bits and pieces of information about O'Do

Early in the day, Lucas felt that the logjam was breaking, that the ice was going out, that the peel was coming off the banana. And then everything slowed, and he began to see nothing but trivia… He wandered out of the office at nine o'clock, discouraged. Where the fuck was he?

RUFFE IGNACE LAY AWAKE in bed, listening to Ruffe's Radio, cataloging the day's events and insults: What the fuck is she doing, telling me that I have to watch my adverbs? She wouldn't know an adverb if one jumped up and hit her on the tit. Green is a bad color for me, it makes my skin look yellow; gotta get rid of the green golf shirt. I wonder if my dick reaches up to my bellybutton when I'm really hard? I don't think it does. Does anybody's? Maybe I oughta get dressed and go out for a slice…

When the phone rang, he said, "Pope," and he Scrambled through the dark to the phone charger, fumbled with the phone, punched the talk button: "Ignace."

And it was: "Hey, Ruffe. Thought I'd call you and say good-bye."

"Good-bye? Where are you now?"

A rumbling, wheezing, whispery laugh, and then, "If this phone is tapped, you'll find out soon enough. Anyway the police were getting too close: this Davenport guy is smarter than I expected."

"I don't know anything about that-as far as I know, they've got no idea where you are, Charlie."

Another whispery chuckle: "That's another thing. My name isn't Charlie. Charlie, unfortunately for him, but not for the rest of us, is in a black bag somewhere. That's what caused the trouble-I threw his dead ass into the river. Life was sweet until he came floatin' up. Anyway, the cops found him, and they know."

"They know they're not looking for Charlie Pope? Jesus Christ… who is this, anyway?"

"They don't know who I am yet, so I'm not going to tell you. In any case, I'm moving on. Maybe… New England. Manhattan. I've got to think, I've got to see what I'm becoming, the Gods Down the Hall…"

"They know you're not Charlie…?" Ignace was outraged: And they hadn't told me? "I'll tell you something else: they might figure out who I was, but they don't know who I'm becoming. And they don't know who I've been, or how long I've been doing this…"

"Jesus, how many…"

"More'n you know, Roo-fay. The Gods Down the Hall told me I was growing. But they say that at some point, your control begins to fade, the appetite takes over. It's dangerous, but it feels so good. I can feel that, now. I didn't know what they were talking about, but now I do, and it feels wonderful. When it's time to go, I'll go, but I think… maybe I don't want to go just yet. I want some more."

"What are you talking about?"

"Change, Ruffe. Appetite. Blood. Moving… well, because you're probably tapped, I'm going to go now. Got to keep moving. Keep moving…"

He was gone.

Ignace stared at the phone for a few seconds, then jumped up, turned on a light, found his Palm Pilot, and brought up Davenport's home number. Dialed.

LUCAS WAS STARTLED awake by the phone. His hardwired phone, not the cell phone. He glanced at the bedside clock, thought "Ignace," and picked up the phone.

"He just called to say good-bye," Ignace said without preamble. "He says he's ru

"Slow down, slow down…," Lucas said. He swung his feet to the floor, hunched over the phone. "We just found out about Pope. What'd he say? You say he's ru

"Who is he?"

"We're not sure… this was on your cell phone?"

"Yeah. You should have it."

"Listen, Ruffe, everybody I've talked to said you're an asshole, but you seem to do the work. Okay? That's what I think. Just don't give me any shit about misleading the press. We're trying to save some poor i