Rules of Prey

“Vice is going to look for him. Probably have him tomorrow.”
    “I hope he’s got something,” Anderson said. “This is getting old.”
     
    Lucas worked on his game for half an hour, editing the scenarios. It was the worst part of the job. The finishingtouches were never done. With the murder of Heather Brown, he couldn’t focus on the work.
    He quit at two o’clock, ate a cup of strawberry yogurt, checked the doors, and turned out the lights. He had been in bed for ten minutes when the doorbell rang. Crawling out of bed, he tiptoed into the workroom so he could look out a window down the length of the house to the front door.
    The doorbell rang again as he peeked out. Annie McGowan, alone in the streetlight, self-conscious as she waited by the door. Lucas sat down with his back to the wall, staring into the dark room. Jennifer was pregnant. Carla was waiting at the cabin. Lucas loved women, new women, different women. Loved to talk to them, send them flowers, roll around in the night. Annie McGowan was stunning, a woman with the face of Helen and what promised to be an exquisite body, pink nipples, pale, solid flesh.
    And she was dumb as a stump. Lucas thought about it, pinching the bridge of his nose.
    Outside, Annie McGowan waited, and after another minute turned away from the house and started back toward her car. Lucas stood up and peered through a crack between the curtain and the wall as she opened the car door, hesitated, looked back at the house. The window opened vertically, with a crank. His hand was on the crank and it would take only a second to open it, call out to her before she got away. He didn’t move. She slid into the driver’s seat, pulled the door shut, and backed out of the drive.
    In another second she was gone. Lucas walked back to the bedroom, lay down, and tried to sleep.
    Visions of Annie . . .

CHAPTER
15
    Lucas’ office door was open and the vice cop ambled in and plopped down in one of the extra chairs.
    “Sparky’s gone,” he said.
    “Damn. Nothing’s coming easy,” Lucas said.
    “We found his place, down on Dupont, but he split last night,” the vice cop said. “The guy who lives upstairs said Sparky came home about midnight, threw his shit in the car, and took off with one of his ladies. Said it didn’t look like he was coming back.”
    “He knew about Brown,” said Lucas, leaning back and planting his feet on the desktop.
    “Yeah. Looks like.”
    “So where’d he go?”
    The vice cop shrugged. “We’re asking around. He’s got a couple of other women. We’ve heard they’re working a sauna out on Lake Street. Used to work at a place called the Iron Butterfly, but that’s closed now. So we’re looking.”
    “Relatives?”
    “Don’t know.”
    “When did we last have him in?” Lucas asked.
    “ ‘Bout a year ago, I guess. Gross misdemeanor, soliciting for prostitution.”
    “He do time?”
    “Three months in the workhouse.”
    “File upstairs?”
    “Yeah. I could get it.”
    “Never mind,” Lucas said. “I’m not doing anything. I’ll walk over and take a look.”
    “We’ll keep looking for him,” the vice cop said. “Daniel’s all over our backs.”
     
    Lucas flipped the lock on his office door and was pulling it closed when the phone rang. He stepped back inside and picked it up.
    “Lucas? This is Jennifer. Are we going out tonight?”
    “Sure. Seven o’clock?” An image of Carla flashed into his mind, her back arched, her breasts flattened, her mouth half-open.
    Carla Ruiz.
    Jennifer Carey, pregnant. “Yeah, that’d be fine. Pick me up here?”
    “See you at seven.”
     
    The maddog was waiting for files in the clerk’s office when Lucas walked in. The maddog recognized him immediately and forced himself to look back at the file he was holding. Lucas paid no attention to him. He walked through the swinging gate, behind the service counter, and across the room to the supervisor’s cubicle. He stuck his head in the door and said something the maddog couldn’t quite make out. The supervisor looked up from her desk and laughed and Lucas went in and perched on the edge of her desk.
    The detective had an easy way about him. The maddog recognized and envied it. The files supervisor was an iron-girdled courthouse veteran who had seen one of everything, and Davenport had her fluttering like a teenage girl. As he watched, Lucas suddenly turned and looked at him and their eyes touched briefly. The maddog recovered and looked