Silent Prey by John Sandford Read Free Book Online Page B

butterfly’s touch.
    “And succeeding,” he said. He tried to grin, but his breathing had gone wrong; the dangling earring was hypnotic, like something out of a magician’s show.
    “Christ, I hate people with fast metabolisms,” she said. She went back to the notebook, unaware of his breathing problems. Maybe.
    “That’s all bullshit, the fast-metabolism excuse,” Lucas said. “I read it in the Times. ”
    “Another sign of decline, the Times printing obvious bullshit,” Lily said. She stuffed the notebook back in her purse, put the purse aside and crossed her legs, clasping her hands on her knees. “Okay, a beer and half a sandwich.”
     
    They ate at the breakfast bar, facing each other, making small talk, checking each other. Lucas was off the police force and missed the action. Lily had moved up, off the street, and was doing political work with a deputy commissioner. Lily asked, “How’s Jennifer? And Sarah?”
    Lucas shook his head, finishing the sandwich. “Jen and I—we’re all done. We tried, and it didn’t work. Too much bad history. We’re still friends. She’s seeing a guy from the station. They’ll probably get married.”
    “He’s okay?”
    “Yeah, I guess,” Lucas said.
    But he was unconsciously shaking his head as he said it.
    Lily considered the tone: “So you think he’s an asshole?”
    “Hell . . . No. Not really.” Lucas, finished with his half of the sandwich, stepped over to the sink, squirted Ivory Liquid into the palm of one hand, turned on the water and washed off the traces of the sandwich’s olive oil. His hands were large and square, boxer’s hands. “And he likes Sarah and he’s got a kid of his own, about seven months older than Sarah. They get along . . . .”
    “Like a family . . .” Lily said. Lucas turned away and shook the water off his hands and she quickly said, “Sorry.”
    “Yeah, well, what the fuck,” Lucas said. He went back to the refrigerator, took out another bottle ofLeinenkugel’s and twisted the top off. “Actually, I’ve been feeling pretty good. Ending it. I’m making some money and I’ve been out on the road, looking at the world. I was at Little Bighorn a couple of weeks ago. Freaked me out. You can stand by Custer’s stone and see the whole fucking fight . . . .”
    “Yeah?”
    He was marking time, waiting for her to tell him why she’d come to the Cities. But she was better at waiting than he was, and finally he asked, “What’re you here for?”
    She licked a chip of roast beef from the corner of her mouth, her long tongue catching it expertly. Then: “I want you to come to New York.”
    “For Bekker?” he asked skeptically. “Bullshit. You guys can handle Bekker. And if I was a New York cop, I’d get pissed off if somebody came in from the outside. A small-town guy.”
    She was nodding. “Yeah, we can handle Bekker. We’ve got guys saying all kinds of things: that we’ll have him in a week, in ten days . . . . It’s been six weeks, Lucas. We’ll get him, but the politics are getting ugly.”
    “Still . . .”
    “We want you to jawbone the media. You’re good at that, talking to reporters. We want to tell them that we’re doing everything we can, that we’re even importing the guy who caught him the first time. We want to emphasize that we’re pulling out all the stops. Our guys’ll understand that, they’ll appreciate it—they’ll know we’re trying to take the heat off.”
    “That’s it? A public-relations trick?” He grimaced, began to shake his head. He didn’t want to talk to reporters. He wanted to get somebody by the throat . . . .
    “No, no. You’ll work the case, all right,” she said. Shefinished the sandwich and held her hands out, fingers spread, looking for a napkin, and he handed her a paper towel. “Right down on the street with the rest of them. And high priority, too. I do value your abilities.”
    Lucas caught something in her voice.