Invisible Prey

that, either,” Lucas said. “Part of this may be coincidence, but I’m starting to think not. If these killings are connected somehow, I would think it would have to do with some special knowledge that would give away the killers. In addition to the money angle, the robbery aspect.”
    The man exhaled: “Then I’m good. I don’t know nothin’ about nothin’.”
     
    D ISCOURAGED, Lucas went back to the car, making a mental list of things to do in the morning, calls to make. He didn’t want to call Lucy Coombs, because he didn’t want to talk to her again. Instead, he called John Smith, who was home watching television. “Not a thing,” Smith said. “I’ll get a call as soon as anybody finds anything. Finds a shoelace. So far, we haven’t found a thing.”
    Heading toward home, a fire truck, siren blasting away, went by on a cross street. He could hear more sirens to the south, not far away, and halfway home, with the windows in the car run down, he could smell the distinctive odor of a burning house. He’d never figured out what it was, exactly—insulation, or plaster, or old wood, or some combination—but he’d encountered it a dozen times in his career, and it never smelled good.
    Back at home, he found Weather in the kitchen, sitting at the counter with a notepad. She asked, “You have time to run to the store?”
    “Yeah, I guess,” he said. Ought to be doing something.
    “I’m making a list…”
    He was waiting for the list when his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID: Flowers.
    “Yeah?”
    “I just got a call from Kathy Barth,” Flowers said. “Somebody just firebombed her house.”

17
    T HE FIRE WAS OUT by the time Lucas got back. He’d driven right past it on the way home, but a block north, hadn’t seen the smoke against the night sky, and the flames had been confined to the back side of the house.
    Kathy and Jesse Barth were standing in the front yard talking to firemen when Lucas walked across the fire line. Jesse Barth saw him coming and pointed him out to her mother, who snapped something at her daughter, and then started toward Lucas.
    “My house is burned down because of you assholes,” she shouted.
    Lucas thought she was going to hit him, and put his hands up, palms out. “Wait, wait, wait…I just heard. Tell me what happened.”
    “Somebody threw a firebomb through my back window, right in the kitchen, right through the window, everything’s burned and screwed up and there’s water…”
    She suddenly went to her knees on the dirty wet grass, weeping. Jesse walked up to stand next to her, put her hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Virgil said nothing would happen,” the kid said. “Virgil said you’d look out for us.”
    Lucas shook his head: “We don’t know what’s going on here,” he said. “We can’t find anybody who might have tried to pull you off the street, who killed Screw…”
    “It’s those fuckin’ Klines, you fuckin’ moron,” Kathy Barth shouted, trying to get back on her feet. The fireman caught her under one arm, and helped her get up.
    Lucas said, “Ah, Jesus, I’m sorry about this…”
    “It’s all my pictures, all of Jesse’s things from when she was a kid, all of her school papers, my wedding dress…” She took a step toward the house, and the fireman said, “Whoa. Not yet.”
    Lucas asked him, “How bad is it?”
    “The kitchen’s a mess. Miz Barth used a fire extinguisher on it, which was pretty brave, and that held it down some, and we got here pretty quick,” the fireman said. “The actual fire damage is confined to the kitchen, but there’s smoke damage, and foam. Some of the structure under the back of the house could be in trouble.”
    Lucas asked Kathy Barth, “Do you have insurance?”
    “Yes. Part of the mortgage.”
    “Then you’ll get it fixed. Better than it was,” Lucas said. “A new kitchen. If it’s only smoke, you can save a lot of your stuff, but as soon as the fire guys let you, you’ve got to get in, and get your photo stuff out.”
    She came back at him: “Why can’t you stop those guys? They’re crazy.” And to Jesse: “We should never have gotten involved with them. We should never have gone to the cops. Now our house…Oh, jeez, our house…”
    “Tell me what happened,” Lucas said.
    “We were watching television, and there was a crash in the kitchen—” Jesse began.
    Kathy interrupted: “One minute before that I was in the kitchen getting Cheez-Its. I would