Secret Prey

up the stairs toward Lucas’s new first-floor office.
    ‘‘Fat cat got killed,’’ Sloan said. ‘‘Dan Kresge, from over at Polaris Bank.’’
    ‘‘Never heard of him.’’
    ‘‘You heard of Polaris Bank?’’
    ‘‘Yeah. That’s the big black-glass one.’’
    ‘‘He runs it. Or did, until somebody shot his ass up in Garfield County. The sheriff called Rose Marie, who called Lucas, and Lucas called me to ride along.’’
    ‘‘Just friends, or overtime?’’
    ‘‘I’m putting in for it,’’ Sloan said comfortably. He had a daughter in college; nothing was ever said, but Davenport had been arranging easy overtime for him. ‘‘Great day for it—though the colors are mostly gone. From the trees, I mean.’’
    ‘‘Fuck trees. Kresge . . . it’s a murder?’’
    ‘‘Don’t know yet,’’ Sloan said. ‘‘This is opening day of deer season. He was shot out of a tree stand.’’
    ‘‘If I was gonna kill somebody, I might do it that way,’’ Del said.
    ‘‘Yeah. Everybody says that.’’ Davenport’s office was empty, but unlocked. ‘‘Rose Marie’s in,’’ Sloan said as they went inside. ‘‘Lucas said if he wasn’t here, just wait.’’
    • • •
    AS LUCAS STOOD UP TO LEAVE, HE ASKED ROSE MARIE
    Roux, the chief of police, why she didn’t do something simple, like use the Patch.
    ‘‘ ’Cause I’d have to put patches all over my body to get enough nicotine. I’d have to put them on the bottom of my feet.’’
    She was on day three, and was chewing her way through a pack of nicotine gum. Lucas picked up his jacket, grinned faintly, and said, ‘‘A little speed might help. You get the buzz, but not the nicotine.’’
    ‘‘Great idea, get me hooked on speed,’’ Roux said. ‘‘Course, I’d probably lose weight. I’m gonna gain nine hundred pounds if I don’t do something.’’ She leaned across her desk, a woman already too heavy, getting her taste buds back from Marlboro Country. ‘‘Listen, call me back and tell me as soon as you get there. And I want you to tell me it’s an accident. I don’t want to hear any murder bullshit.’’
    ‘‘I’ll do what I can,’’ Lucas said. He stepped toward the door.
    ‘‘Are you all right?’’ Roux asked.
    ‘‘No.’’ He stopped and half turned.
    ‘‘I’m worried about you. You sit around with a cloud over your head.’’
    ‘‘I’m getting stuff done . . .’’
    ‘‘I’m not worried about that—I’m worried about you ,’’ she said. ‘‘I’ve had the problem—you know that. I’ve been through it three times, now, and doctors help. A lot.’’
    ‘‘I’m not sure it’s coming back,’’ Lucas said. ‘‘I haven’t tipped over the edge yet. I can still . . . stop things.’’
    ‘‘All right,’’ Roux said, nodding skeptically. ‘‘But if you need the name of a doc, mine’s a good guy.’’
    ‘‘Thanks.’’ Lucas closed her office door as he left and turned down the hall, by himself, suddenly gone morose. He didn’t like to think about the depression that hovered at the edge of his consciousness. The thing was like some kind of rodent, like a rat, nibbling on his brain.
    He wouldn’t go through it again. A doctor, maybe; and maybe not. But he wouldn’t go through it again.
    DEL SAT IN ONE OF LUCAS’S VISITOR’S CHAIRS, ONE foot on Lucas’s desk, blew smoke at the ceiling and said, ‘‘So what’re you suggesting? We send him a fruitcake?’’
    Lucas’s office smelled of new carpet and paint, and looked out on Fourth Street; a great fall day, crisp, blue skies, young blond women with rosy cheeks and long fuzzy coats heading down the street with their boyfriends, toward the Metrodome and a University of Minnesota football game.
    Sloan, who was sitting in Davenport’s swivel chair, said, ‘‘The guy’s hurting. We could . . . I don’t know. Go out with him. Keep him busy at night.’’
    Del groaned. ‘‘Right. We get our wives, we go out to eat. We talk the same bullshit we talk at the office all day, because we can’t talk about Weather. Then we finish eating and go home with our old ladies. He goes home and sits in the dark with his dick in his hand.’’
    ‘‘So what’re you saying?’’ Sloan demanded.
    ‘‘What I’m saying is that he’s all alone, and that’s the fuckin’ problem . . .’’ Then Del lifted a finger to his lips and dropped his voice. ‘‘He’s coming.’’
    LUCAS STEPPED INTO THE OFFICE A MOMENT LATER,