Rules of Prey

through it. The scope was focused on a space in the curtains on a second-story window. There was nothing to see at first, then McGowan walked through a shaft of light coming from what Lucas supposed was a bathroom. She was brushing her hair, her arms crossed behind her head. She was wearing a pair of white cotton underpants. Nothing else.
    “Look at that,” whispered the cop with the binoculars.
    “Give me the fuckin’ things,” said Henley, trying to wrench them away.
    “Goddamn one-hundred-percent all-American TV-reporter pussy,” the surveillance cop said reverently, passing the binoculars to the vice cop. “You think she knows we’re watching?”
    She knows, Lucas thought, watching her face. It was flushed. Annie McGowan was turned on. “Probably not,” he said aloud.
     
    Five days of surveillance produced nothing. No suspicious cars checked her home, no approaches on the street. Nothing but falling leaves and cold winds rattling the tiles on the architect’s roof. The curtain never closed.
     
    “Red Horse?” It was midday and Lucas was calling from his home.
    “Yeah, Annie. This is no hot tip, but I was out in the neighborhoods and noticed something you might be interested in. One of the women’s business clubs is going to hear a lecture from a university shrink about—I’m reading this from a flier—‘the relationship between sexual-social inadequacy and antisocial activity, with comments about the serialkiller now terrorizing the Twin Cities.’ That sounds like it could be good. Maybe you’d want to get a camera over to see this guy before he gives his speech.”
    “That sounds pretty relevant. What’s the name?”
     
    “Lucas?” It was Jennifer, a little breathless.
    “Jennifer. I was going to call. How are you feeling?”
    “I’m getting a little queasy in the morning.”
    “Have you seen a doctor?”
    “Jesus, Lucas, I’m okay. It’s only morning sickness. I just hope it doesn’t get much worse. I almost lost my breakfast.”
    “With the breakfasts you eat, I believe it. You’ve got to get off that eggs-and-sausage and butter-toast bullshit. It’ll kill you even if it doesn’t give you morning sickness. Your cholesterol is probably six hundred and eight. Buy some oatmeal or some Malt-O-Meal. Get some vitamins. I can’t figure out why you don’t weigh two hundred pounds. For Christ’s sakes, will you—?”
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Listen, I didn’t call you for culinary advice. This is an official call. I’ve been hearing strange rumors. That something heavy is happening with the maddog. That you know who he is and that you’re watching him.”
    “Absolutely wrong,” Lucas said flatly. “I can’t prove it, obviously, but it’s not true.”
    “I won’t ask you for Boys Scout’s honor, because that’s personal and this is an official call.”
    “Okay, listen, as the woman who is carrying my kid, I don’t want you to run around and get exhausted, okay? So on a purely personal basis, I tell you, Boy Scout’s honor, we’ve got no idea who he is.”
    “But you’re doing something?”
    “That’s an official question. I can start lying again.”
    Jennifer laughed and Lucas felt cheered. “I read you like an open book,” she said. “I bet I find out what’s going on within, say, a week.”
    “Good luck, fat lady.”
    • • •
    Anderson and Lucas were talking in Lucas’ office when Daniel edged in. He had never seen Lucas’ office before. “Not bad,” he said. “It’s almost as big as my closet.”
    “There’s a trick wall and it opens into a full-size executive suite, but I only do it when I’m alone,” Lucas said. “Don’t want to make the peons jealous.”
    “We were going over the case,” Anderson said, looking up at the chief. “It’s been ten days since the maddog’s last hit. If the shrinks are right, he should be coming up on another one. Probably next week.”
    “Christ, we gotta do something,” Daniel said. He was wringing his hands and Lucas thought he had lost weight. His hair was uncharacteristically mussed, as though he had forgotten to brush it before he left home. The maddog was bearing him down.
    “Nothing on the McGowan thing?” he asked.
    “Nope.”
    “Lucas. Tell me something.”
    “I don’t have anything specific. We might be able to cool the media. I’m thinking that we should release some information about him. Something that would make it harder for him to pick up his victims.”
    Daniel paused.