Rules of Prey

up a rope,” he said. They left in a group—Smithe, McCarthy, and the interrogation cop. As they went, the cop turned to Lucas.
    “You know the difference between a skunk dead on the highway and a lawyer dead on the highway?”
    “No, what?”
    McCarthy turned his head.
    “There’s skid marks in front of the skunk,” the cop said. Lucas laughed and McCarthy bared his teeth again.
     
    “Look at them down there, like lice on a dog,” Anderson said gloomily, exploring his gums with a ragged plastic toothpick. On the street below, television cameramen, reporters,and technicians were swarming around the remote-broadcast trucks parked outside City Hall.
    “Yeah. Looks like Lester is going to have a full house,” Lucas said. Jennifer’s head bobbed through the swarm, headed toward the entry below them. “Got to run,” Lucas said.
    He caught her just inside the entrance, dragged her protesting through the halls to his office, pushed her into the desk chair, and closed the door.
    “You tipped Kennedy about the gay. You told me you wouldn’t.”
    “I didn’t tip him, Lucas, honest to Christ.”
    “Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit,” Lucas stormed. “You guys have washed each other’s hands before, I’ve seen you do it. As soon as Daniel told me that Kennedy had the tip, I knew it was from you.”
    “So what are you going to do about it, Lucas? Huh?” She was angry now. “This is what I do for a living. It’s not a fuckin’ hobby.”
    “Great goddamn way to make a living.”
    “Better than renting yourself out as a stormtrooper.”
    Lucas put his fists on his hips and leaned close to her face. She didn’t back off even a fraction of an inch. “You know what you did to get a break on a story? You pushed the department into booking an innocent man, which will probably kill the guy. He’s in the welfare department surrounded by women and they’ll never trust him again, no matter what anybody says. He’s a suspect, all right, but I don’t think he did it. I was trying to get them to go easy, but your fuckin’ tip pushed them into picking him up.”
    “If they don’t think he did it, they shouldn’t pick him up.”
    Lucas slapped himself on the forehead. “Jesus. You think all the questions are easy? Smithe might be guilty. He might not be guilty. I might be wrong about him, and if I am and if I talked the department into letting him go, he might go right back on the street and butcher some other woman. But I might be right and we’re destroying the guy, while the real killer is planning to rip somebody else. All we needed wasa little time, and you snooped on a private conversation out of my house.”
    “And?”
    Lucas turned cool. “I’ve got to make some basic decisions about whether to talk to you at all.”
    “I didn’t really need to hear that phone call at your place,” Jennifer said. “I would have gotten it anyway. I’ve got sources here you wouldn’t believe. I don’t need you, Lucas. I might just tell you to go fuck yourself.”
    “I’ll take the risk. I can’t put up with spying. I am considering—considering—calling a lawyer and having him call your general manager to tell him how you got the information and threatening to file suit against the station for theft of proprietary information.”
    “Lucas—”
    “Get out of here.”
    “Lucas . . .” She suddenly burst into tears and Lucas backed a few steps away.
    “I’m sorry,” he said, miserably. “I just can’t . . . Jennifer . . . stop that, goddammit.”
    “God, I’m a wreck, my makeup. I can’t do this press conference . . . . God . . . can I use your phone?” She poked at her face with a tissue. “I want to call the station, tell them to let Kathy Lettice take it. God, I’m such a mess . . .”
    “Jesus, stop crying, use the phone,” Lucas said desperately.
    Still sniffling, she picked up the phone and dialed. When it was answered, her voice suddenly cleared. “Don? Jen. The guy’s name is Smithe and he works for welfare—”
    “Goddammit, Jennifer!” Lucas shouted. He grabbed the phone, twisted it out of her hand, and slammed it on the hook.
    “I cry good, don’t I?” she asked with a grin, and she was out the door.
     
    “Davenport, Davenport,” Daniel moaned. He gripped handfuls of hair on the side of his head as he watched Jennifer finish the broadcast.
    “ . . . called by some the smartest man in the department, told me personally that he did not believe