Fear the Night by John Lutz Read Free Book Online Page B

six rapid shots at the target twenty yards down the range. They were at the outdoor shooting range at Rodman’s Neck in the Bronx, on a peninsula jutting into Long Island Sound. Repetto had insisted they come here in the unmarked directly from the cemetery, after only a brief stop so he could get some things from his car before his wife and daughter drove it home. The other shooters at the range wore casual clothes. Meg and Birdy had removed their jackets, and Birdy had loosened his tie. Repetto remained fully clad in his dark suit, his tie knot neat and severely bound. Blasting away in his mourning clothes.
    He reloaded.
    Repetto’s handsome but worn features were set and hard with grief and determination. Meg had been told Bricker was like a son to him. Looking at Repetto, Meg couldn’t prevent a lump from welling up in her throat.
    “You don’t look so good, Captain,” she said. “We can wait till tomorrow if you want to discuss this, or even later today—”
    “I’m okay,” Repetto interrupted. “And time’s important. Otherwise I’d be home with my wife and daughter serving cake to well-wishers.”
    In answer, Meg got off two careful shots at her target. It hadn’t felt right; despite taking her time, she hadn’t set herself.
    Repetto lifted an old pair of oversize binoculars he’d brought from his car.
    “Two in the middle,” he said. “Not bad.”
    She felt immediately better.
    Birdy used the point and shoot method, firing quickly and relying on instinctive aim. He’d learned it was the best method of shooting if you didn’t have the steadiest hands. When he lowered his 9mm Glock, Repetto peered through the binoculars and said, “Uh-hm.”
    He let the binoculars fall on their leather neck strap and turned away from the range to look at Meg and Bellman. Meg felt Birdy shift his weight slightly beside her. Repetto’s eyes, blue and with the cold spark of diamonds, had the same unsettling effect on him that they’d had on her. Here was a man in the thrall of a mission larger than his life. If the Night Sniper wanted a worthy opponent, he’d sure found one.
    Meg holstered her gun. She hoped Repetto hadn’t noticed her hand was trembling.
    He said, “Two things. One is, despite the temporary rank, I’m on unofficial status, so call me Repetto.” He wasn’t quite ready to be on first-name-basis familiarity. “Two is we are going to nail this son of a bitch!”
    Meg surprised herself by smiling slightly. Adrenaline, maybe. “I’ll remember both of them.”
    “And I will,” Birdy said beside her in his gravelly voice. Meg saw that his index finger was nervously twitching where it was extended along the barrel of his Glock.
    Repetto had apparently had enough shooting. He slipped his loaded revolver into its belt holster, then led the way back to where the car was parked. From the backseat floor he retrieved the scuffed, black leather briefcase he’d brought with him. He opened the briefcase and drew out two brown cardboard packets with their flaps tied with string wrapped around metal grommets. He laid them on the sun-warmed trunk lid of the car. “These are the murder files on all the Night Sniper victims, copies for both of you. When we leave here, take yours with you and study it.”
    “Study it some more, you mean,” Meg said. “When Birdy and I knew we had this assignment, we went over all the material and talked about it.”
    Repetto smiled at her through the grief and cold purpose that possessed him. “Good. Come to any conclusions?”
    “He likes to play,” Birdy said, slipping back into his suit coat he’d carried slung over his arm. “They all do to some extent, but the game is a big part of this one’s sickness.”
    “That’s more or less what Zoe Brady says,” Meg added.
    Repetto was surprised. “The profiler’s already talked to you?”
    “Not personally. It’s what she wrote in a summary of her findings. Also, he’s a sadist.”
    “Aren’t they all?” Birdy