Invisible Prey

experiment—Coombs would be an outlier—it often cracks the puzzle. There’s something going on with it, that gives you a new angle.”
    “You think I might be better focusing on Coombs?”
    “Maybe. What’s the granddaughter’s name?” Weather asked.
    “Gabriella.”
    “Yes. You say she’s looking at all the paper. That’s fine, but she doesn’t have your eye,” Weather said. “What you should do, is get her to compile it all. Everything she can find. Then you read it. The more links you can find between Coombs and the other victims, the more likely you are to stumble over the solution. You need to pile up the data.”
     
    A STRETCH of Hague Avenue west of Lexington was perfect. The Widdlers had gone around the block, well ahead of Jesse, and scouted down Hague, spotted the dark stretch.
    “If she stays on this street…” Jane said.
    They circled back, getting behind her again, never getting closer than two blocks. The circling also gave them a chance to spot cop cars. They’d seen one, five minutes earlier, five blocks away, quickly departing, as though it were on its way somewhere.
    That was good.
    They could see Jesse moving between streetlights, walking slowly. Leslie was in the back of the van, looking over the passenger seat with the glasses. He saw the dark stretch coming and said, “Move up, move up. In ten seconds, she’ll be right.”
    “Nylons,” Jane said.
    They unrolled dark nylon stockings over their heads. They could see fine, but their faces would be obscured should there be an unexpected witness. Better yet, the dark stockings, seen from any distance, made them look as though they were black.
    “Why is she walking so slow?” Jane asked.
    “I don’t know…she keeps stopping,” Leslie said. “But she’s getting there…”
    “So dangerous,” Jane said.
    “Do it, goddamnit,” Leslie snarled. “She’s there. Put me on her.”
     
    J ESSE HEARD the sudden acceleration of the van coming up behind her. In this neighborhood, that could be a bad thing. She turned toward it, her face a pale oval in the dark patch. The van was coming fast, and just as quickly lurched to a stop. Now she was worried, and already turning away, to run, when the van’s sliding door slammed open, and a big man was coming at her, running, one big arm lifting overhead, and Jesse screamed…
     
    L ESLIE HOPED to be on her before she could scream, realized somewhere in the calculating part of his brain that they’d done it wrong, that they should have idled up to her, but that was all done now, in the past. He hit the grass verge, running, before the van had even fully stopped, his chin hot from his breath under the nylon stocking, his arm going up, and he heard the girl scream “Shoe,” or “Shoot,” or “Schmoo.”
    Or “Screw”?
    He was almost there, the girl trying to run, he almost had her when he became aware of something like a soccer ball flying at his hip, he had the pipe back ready to swing, and cocked his head toward whatever it was…
    Then Screw hit him.
    Leslie Widdler hit the ground like a side of beef, a solid thump , thrashing at the dog, the dog’s snarls reaching toward a ravening lupine howl, Leslie thrashing at it with the pipe, the dog biting him on the butt, the leg, an upper arm, on the back, Leslie thrashing, finally kicking at the dog, and dog fastening on his ankle. Leslie managed to stagger upright, could hear Jane screaming something, hit the dog hard with the pipe, but the dog held on, ripping, and Leslie hit it again, still snarling, and, its back broken, the dog launched itself with its front paws, getting Leslie’s other leg, and Leslie, now picking up Jane’s “Get in get in get in…” threw himself into the back of the van.
    The dog came with him, and the van accelerated into a U-turn, the side door still open, almost rolling both Leslie and the dog into the street, and Leslie hit the dog on the skull again, and then again, and the dog finally let go and Leslie, overcome with anger, lurched forward, grabbed it around the body, and threw it out in the street.
    Jane screamed, “Close the door, close the door.”
    Leslie slammed the door and they were around another corner and a few seconds later, accelerating down the ramp onto I-94.
    “I’m hurt,” he groaned. “I’m really hurt.”
     
    L UCAS AND L ETTY were watching Slap Shot when Flowers called. “I’m down in Jackson. Kathy Barth just called me and said that somebody tried to snatch