Naked Prey

town, or when he was sure that he’d locked the doors before going to bed . . .
    He was sure, but he wasn’t sure.
    He knew she was often out there, even late, because he’d seen her walking along the highway in the evening, carrying her rifle and her bag.
    If she had seen him, hauling the garbage bags that held the girls’ bodies, she would have assumed that he was getting rid of his own household trash. Though it wasn’t legal, people did it—did it all the time, after hunting and fishing trips, to get rid of fish guts or deer remains.
    But: the girl had been dragging around town with the two state cops, had apparently helped them reach the unbelievably quick conclusion that the Sorrells had been involved in the hanging of Deon Cash and Jane Warr. Now she had taken them out to the dump.
    Did she know something? Were the state cops looking at him? Maybe he shouldn’t have left so quickly, maybe he should have stopped and chatted. He could say that the dump was part of his check-route. But if they started to ask him questions, what would he have said? He wasn’t ready for that.
    Then: if the state cops were looking at him, why hadn’t he felt anything at work? There hadn’t been any curious looks, or veiled questions. Could the state cops be holding it that close, not even letting the sheriff in on it?
    Or—how about this—they’d found out that he’d been hanging around Calb’s, and in the process of checking on him, they’d talked to Letty and she’d mentioned seeing him at the dump, dragging the bags. Of course, putting him with Calb wouldn’t get them to Deon and Jane, because he’d kept that connection very quiet.
    Think.
    All right, here’s another possibility: it was all a coincidence. She was out there trapping, and the cops had taken her out. But why would the cops do that? It wasn’t like they were a taxi service.
    Think.
    Better talk to Mom.
    T HE DAY HAD started simply enough. He’d slept late after a strenuous evening with Katina Lewis, had then gotten up, gotten dressed, and had gone into the office to see if anything had happened with the murders of the Sorrells.
    Micky James was working the comm center: “The state boys are back,” James said. “They’ve been asked in to cover the Sorrell murders, too. They’re going to be up around Broderick. What the hell you think is happening?”
    “Dope dealing up at the res, if you ask me,” Singleton said. “It’s all gotta be tied together.”
    Back home, he’d decided that snooping was probably more dangerous than doing nothing—and his thoughts turned to the Caddy out in his garage. He needed to do some fine sanding on the last clear coat, and doing that kind of work always smoothed him out, along with the car. Gave him a chance to think.
    In the garage, he realized that his breathing gear was still out at Calb’s, and the paint he was using always specified breathing gear. That meant a trip to Broderick.
    He’d gone to Broderick without a thought in his mind. As he came into town, he saw a silver SUV pulling out of the body shop, heading out on the highway, north. He pulled into the spot that the SUV had just left and found the shop deserted. Not unusual for a Sunday. He ran the door up with his remote control, went inside, and got the breather gear. Didn’t feel the slightest vibration from the silver truck.
    “Loren?” A woman’s voice called to him. He looked back to his right, and saw an older woman walking across the highway from the church. “Hey,” she called. “Did you talk to Katina?”
    “Not since last night. She said she was heading back here . . . ” And for a moment, Singleton thought the woman was going to tell him that Katina was missing. If she’d gone missing, for any reason, he might be cooked.
    “She was here, until ten minutes ago,” the woman said. She was an older woman, who looked like a Saturday Evening Post caricature of Grandma. “She tried to call you—she’s probably down at your place, now. She said if you came by, looking for her, to tell you that she’d wait.”
    “All right.”
    “Did you talk to the state policemen?”
    “No . . . ”
    “They were just here. They’ve been going around town.”
    “Silver truck?”
    The woman nodded. “Yes. You just missed them.”
    T HEY WERE HEADED north. To Letty West’s? He thanked the woman, and as soon as she was back in the church, headed north out of town, after the silver SUV. He was no more than fifteen minutes