Silken Prey

room was no longer entirely dark. She could be seen by the monitors if she stood up. She crawled across the carpet, pulling the pack, to the bathroom, which wasn’t covered by the cameras. At the bathroom, she slipped inside, and as she was closing the door, saw Taryn’s purse on the dresser on the opposite wall.
    Thought about it, then went to the window, looked and listened, and satisfied that the guard wasn’t right there, dropped the pack into the arborvitae. Then she went back to the bathroom door, got down on her knees, and then on her stomach, and slipped across the floor, staying close to the wall where the camera wouldn’t see her. It would see her if she stood up at the dresser.
    She stayed on the floor to the outer door, reached out and slowly, slowly closed the door. As soon as it was dark, she stood, went straight to the purse, dipped inside, found Taryn’s iPhone, then hurried back across to the bathroom. She peered out the window, then pulled back: the guard was right there, on the lawn, still looking away from the house, toward the trees.
    He went on by, slowly, and as soon as he was out of sight, she dropped the tarp across the cut edges of glass, pushed through the window, dropped behind the bush, on top of her pack. She stuffed the tarp into it, took the starlights out and put them on. She wouldn’t wait now: she called Kidd, said, “Running,” and took off, zigzagging between trees, into the tree line, then through the trees toward the street.
    At the tree line, she knelt, pulled off her starlights, and stuffed them in her pack, and then the darkened car rolled up. She was inside then, and Kidd did a U-turn and asked, his voice tight, “How’d it go?”
    “Pretty routine,” she said. “Hey, slow down. I’ve got to text a guy.”
    “What?”
    “Give me Lucas’s cell phone number.”
    •   •   •
    L UCAS WAS IN HIS L EXUS, alone, waiting for Carver to move again, when his phone burped at him.
    Thinking Weather or Letty, he pulled it out and found a message from an unknown number:
    Dannon will kill Carver tonight at the hotel and bury him in the perfect graveyard. Best wishes, Taryn.
    Lucas said, “What?”

CHAPTER 25
    L ucas sat for a minute looking at the message, didn’t understand how it could possibly be right, then called the BCA duty officer on his own phone and asked him to do a look-up on the number: he came back a minute later and said, “Billed to Taryn Grant.”
    Lucas said, “Sonofabitch,” to nobody. He couldn’t think what he had to lose, so he redialed the number, and was instantly switched to an answering service, which meant that the phone had been turned off. He said, “Davenport . . . you sent me a message. Call me back.”
    He waited four or five minutes, then his phone burped: Del.
    “Grant and Dannon and the campaign manager just came out of the house, and it looks like they’re putting a caravan together,” Del said. “I guess they’re headed downtown. I’ve been monitoring Channel Three, and they are leaning pretty hard on her winning. They haven’t called it yet, but they will before midnight.”
    “Last time I saw, it was pretty close,” Lucas said.
    “Yeah, but the suburbs are in, and the Iron Range isn’t—she’ll be two-to-one, up there.”
    “Okay. Listen—are you sure Dannon is with the convoy?”
    “Pretty sure. I saw him getting in the truck, he’s driving. That Green chick is in the second truck, and there are a couple more . . .”
    “Okay. I’m gonna want you to buzz Grant’s truck once it gets on I-94. I need to confirm that Dannon’s in the truck. When you’re sure, get your ass down here as fast as you can.”
    “I can do that.”
    Lucas rang off, waited for another call from Grant. Nobody called, until Del came back again and said, “I ran their convoy. Dannon’s driving.”
    “Get down here. I’m outside the Radisson parking garage. Drop your car, and hook up with me.”
    •   •   •
    D EL ARRIVED TWENTY MINUTES later, walking up the street in a gray hoodie, hands in the front pocket, looking a little like a monk. Lucas popped the lock on the passenger side, and Del climbed inside. “You sounded stressed,” he said.
    Lucas called up the message from Grant and passed the phone over to him. Del read it and said, “This don’t compute.”
    “I had Dave look up the number. It’s hers.”
    “Did you . . .”
    “I called her back,” Lucas said. “She’d turned off the