Rules of Prey

“Like what?”
    “A flier listing the type of woman he goes after—dark hair, dark eyes, young to middle-aged, attractive. Then maybe a few hints about him. That he’s light-complected, dark-haired, a little heavy, maybe recently moved in from the Southwest. That he dressed like a farmer at least once, but that we believe him to be a white-collar worker. Appeal to women who fit the type, and who feel approaches from men like that, and ask them to call us.”
    “Christ, you know how many calls we’d get?” Anderson asked.
    “Can’t be helped,” Lucas said. “But we’re not getting anywhere, and if he takes another one next week . . . We’d be better off if the press thought we were doing something about it.”
    Daniel pursed his lips, staring blankly at the pebbledplaster on Lucas’ office wall. Eventually he nodded. “Yes. Let’s do it. At least we’re doing something.”
    “And maybe call an alert for next week,” Lucas suggested. “Put a lot of extra cops on the street. Let the media know about it, but ask them not to publish. They won’t, and it’ll make them feel like they’re in on something.”
    “Not bad,” Daniel admitted with a wintry smile. “And after it’s over, we can all go on television and debate media ethics, whether they should have cooperated with the cops.”
    “You got it,” said Lucas. “They love that shit.”
     
    Lucas called her from a street phone.
    “Red Horse?”
    “Listen, Annie, Daniel has ordered Anderson—you know, from robbery-homicide?—he’s ordered him to make up a list of characteristics for both the victims and the maddog killer and release it to the media. Probably sometime this afternoon. Some of them are already well-known, but some of them were confidential up to this time.”
    “If I can get it in ten minutes, I can make the noon report.”
    “I can’t give you all of it, but we think he’s fairly new to the area. We don’t think he’s been here more than a few years and that he moved in from the Southwest.”
    “You mean like Worthington, Marshall, down there?”
    “No, no, not southwest Minnesota, the southwestern United States. Texas, probably. Maybe New Mexico. Like that. Daniel will make it official that he was seen in farmer clothes, just like you had it. But now they think it might be a disguise and that he’s really white-collar.”
    “Great. Really great, Red Horse. What else?”
    “There’ll be more on the list, but that’s the best stuff. And listen, before you put it on the air, call Anderson and ask him about it. He’ll tell you. He’s in his office now.” He gave her Anderson’s direct line. “Thanks. I’ll see you on the air in fifteen minutes.”
    • • •
    Midafternoon. Lucas was suffering post-luncheon tristesse, and sluggishly picked up the phone.
    “Lucas?”
    “How’re you feeling, Jennifer?”
    “What’s going on with McGowan?”
    “Jennifer, goddammit—”
    “No, no, no. I’m not asking you if you screwed her. You already gave me Boy Scout’s honor on that. What I want to know is, what’s going on with McGowan and the surveillance? Why are the cops watching her?”
    Lucas hesitated before answering, and instantly knew he had made a mistake.
    “Ah. You are watching her,” Jennifer crowed.
    “Jennifer, remember when I asked you to talk to the chief before you did anything on Carla Ruiz? I’m asking you to talk to him again.”
     
    Evening. The sun went down noticeably early now. The summer was gone. Lucas waited outside the door of Daniel’s office. He had been waiting fifteen minutes when Daniel came in from the outside.
    “Come in,” he said. He pulled off his topcoat and tossed it on the couch. “I’m asking you straight out. Did you tip Jennifer Carey on the surveillance?”
    “Absolutely not. She’s got her own sources. She called me and I sent her to you.”
    Daniel poked a finger at him. “If I find out otherwise, I’ll kick your ass.”
    “It wasn’t me. What happened when she called?”
    “I called the station manager, got him with Carey in a meeting, and read them the riot act. Carey started on this media-ethics trip and the station manager told her to shut up. Said he wasn’t going to have his station blamed if a star from another station was murdered by the maddog.”
    “So that’s it?”
    “They wanted equal access with Channel Eight. They’re going to take a camera into her house over the weekend, when nothing’s happening, shoot some film of