Certain Prey

killing in self-defense.”
    “I think it’s because I know these people, or, anyway, I know about them,” Rinker said. “They’re not dirtbags who deserve it. They’re just people who are in the way.”
    “No, no, no, they’re not in the way; they’re simply essential to us. We could not kill them, but that would leave us exposed. I’ll tell you what; if you want, I’ll do all the shooting.”
    “Who actually does the shooting is hardly the point, if we both cooperate in setting up the killing.”
    They weren’t exactly arguing: they were exploring, Carmel thought. Rinker—Clara—was feeling some qualms, while Carmel felt none at all. They were working together through the gray ethical areas of murder . . .

    “T HIS IS the place—the brick house, with the white shutters,” Carmel said, pointing across the dashboard as they rolled past the house. “We’ve gotta decide now: I don’t want you coming in unless, you know, at some level you believe, that you know, that what we’re doing is necessary. We’re not doing it out of madness, we’re doing it out of forced necessity.”
    “I’m not objecting so much from any kind of definable, rational viewpoint; I’m saying that I feel a little different about this,” Rinker said. “I even worry about the effect it will have on you. ”
    “Don’t worry about that.” Carmel took the car to the curb, killed the engine. “Are you in or out?”
    “I’m in,” Rinker said.
    • • •

    L UCAS ARRIVED at Hennepin County Medical Center to find Sherrill standing with a group of cops on the sidewalk by the emergency entrance. When she saw the Porsche, Sherrill broke away from the group and walked into the headlights just as Lucas shut them off. “He’s dead,” she said as Lucas got out of the car.
    “Damnit. I was afraid this would happen someday,” Lucas said in a low voice. “Butry was an asshole and not too bright. It’s a bad combination.”
    “Yeah, well, he was a cop.”
    “Yeah. They got a line on the shooters?”
    “They’re gone. Desk clerk said there were three skateboarders, kids, outside the station who might’ve seen something, but they took off right after the shooting. We’re looking, but we ain’t finding.”
    “What about Carmel?”
    “She’s locked up in her building. I’ll head back there as soon as I’m sure there’s nothing I can do with this thing.”
    “Probably no point,” Lucas said. “It’s so late now. What about Butry? Who’s his next of kin?”
    “Haven’t found anybody yet,” Sherrill said. “His folks are dead, no brothers or sisters, far as we know. Never married . . . hell, there might not be anybody.”
    “Must be somebody.”
    “I hope so,” Sherrill said. “If there turned out to be nobody . . . that’d be the worst thing I ever heard of.”

TWENTY-TWO

    Carmel and Rinker stood on the porch steps, each of them holding a phone book, and leaned sideways to peer at the curtained windows. The windows were dark, and nothing was moving. Nobody home. As stupid as it was, it was something they hadn’t counted on. Plan B was going down.
    “She’s gotta be around,” Carmel complained. “I called her office today, and she picked up the phone.”
    “She’s probably off visiting her mother or something,” Rinker said. They were both a little deflated, and wandered back down the dark sidewalk toward the car, carrying the phone books.
    “Visiting.” Carmel stopped in her tracks. “Yeah, I bet she’s visiting . . . C’mon.”
    “Where?” Rinker was puzzled.
    “Up to Hale’s place.”
    “But I thought we were going to take Clark first. If we don’t take her, there’s no point in . . .”
    “I think she’s at Hale’s place. I’ll bet you a dollar.”
    “Hale’s?”
    “Yeah. Hale’s.”
    • • •
    AT HALE’S, Carmel cruised past, slowly. The back window, Hale’s bedroom, showed just the faintest glow on the window shade. “She’s there. He’s got this votive candle . . .”
    “What an asshole ,” Rinker said. “I mean, you’re talking about marrying him? And he’s still sleeping with his ex-girlfriend?”
    “Sneaking,” Carmel said. “Can’t say he’s not sexually active.”
    Carmel continued around the block, and pulled to the curb fifty yards up the street from Allen’s house, where they could see the back window. She punched up her car phone, and on the second ring, a light came on in the bedroom. A moment later, Hale Allen picked up.
    “I think I