Mortal Prey

to know that we were onto her.”
    “That could work,” Lucas said.
    Derik said, “At least we’re being…whatever that word is.”
    Lucas said, “What word?”
    “You know…”
    “Proactive,” Sally said.
    “So let’s proact our asses over to Dallaglio’s place and talk to Jesse Dallaglio,” Lucas said.
     
    A DOCTOR WAS leaving the Dallaglios’ when they arrived, a tall slender woman in what would have been a tweedy dress if it hadn’t been ninety-eight degrees outside; and it still looked like tweed, even if it was some kind of light knotted cotton. Sally identified herself and said, “Did you put them asleep?”
    “The children were exhausted. I gave them sleep aids, they’re with their mother,” the doctor said. “I left some sleep aids for Mrs. Dallaglio, but I don’t know if she’ll use them. She was resistant.”
     
    INSIDE THE HOUSE , one of the bodyguards, still wearing bloody pants, said, “Mrs. Dallaglio’s back with the kids in the bedroom.”
    “We’ll wait,” Lucas said. And, “There are ten guns around the house now. You’ve probably got time to get cleaned up if you want.”
    The bodyguard looked down at his pants. “Gonna burn these sons of bitches,” he said. He looked around. “I’m gonna do that, get cleaned up. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” As he was going out the door, he added, “What a night.”
     
    A SECOND BODYGUARD came padding down a hall as they stood around the living room, saw them, and said, “The kids are asleep. Jesse’ll be with you in a minute.”
    More like five minutes, but when Jesse Dallaglio came out of the back, she’d managed to pull herself together. Her eyes were still puffy and red from crying, but the first wave of the shock had passed.
    Lucas had seen it before: Women recovered faster than men from the death of a spouse. Lucas believed that both men and women expected the wife to live longer, so that women were somewhat braced for the departure of a husband, while a husband, in most police cases, was absolutely unprepared—unless, of course, he’d done the killing himself.
    When that was a possibility, most homicide cops liked to take a quick, hard look at the husband, to see if he was either too pulled together or too demonstrative. Most innocent husbands simply dropped into dumb shock and stayed there for a while. It was an attitude not easily faked.
    “I’m better,” Dallaglio was telling Sally. “The girls are sick, and they’re terrified. But they’ll be okay. The doctor gave them some sleeping pills. What did you…?”
    “Chief Davenport had an idea that we felt we had to look into,” Sally said. “Could you tell us when you decided, for sure, to go with Executive Air? And when you decided what time you’d be leaving?”
    She looked from Sally to Lucas to Derik, then back to Lucas as her hand came up to her mouth. “Oh my God. How did she know we’d be there?”
    Lucas nodded. “That’s what we were wondering.”
    Dallaglio turned away from them all and stared at a wall for a moment, thinking, then back to Lucas. “Exec Air had a problem. We have a deal with them, we get a rate, but they only manage three jets and all three of them were out. Two were coming back, but they didn’t know until two o’clock when they’d be in, and when they could have one of them turned around. They told Paul to call at two—and that’s what he did. They told us to be there at nine o’clock, or a little after.”
    “So you didn’t know when you’d be leaving until two o’clock.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Who did you tell outside the house? Paul’s friends, your friends, your daughters’ friends?”
    Again, Dallaglio turned away, thought, and turned back. “Paul told at least two people, the Karens. We call them the Karens—it’s Karen Slade and Karen English, they’re the two assistant vice presidents at work, they’re Paul’s assistants. But I don’t think either of them was around when Clara was here. Maybe Karen Slade, but she’s a dear friend of both of us, her and her husband. It can’t be Karen.”
    Sally was making notes. “Did you talk to anyone?”
    “I called my sister, Janice, she lives down in Little Rock, but it wouldn’t be her. The kids…we’d have to wait until tomorrow, but I don’t think they called anyone. They’re not really old enough to have telephone friends yet. I mean, Justy does, in a way, but it’s the girl down the block and we hardly know her parents. I would be