Night Victims (The Night Spider) by John Lutz

Author:John Lutz [Lutz, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780786020836
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corporation
Published: 2009-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

Marla said, “Think it’ll ever stop raining?”

She’d brought Horn the club sandwich he’d ordered. He noticed she hadn’t asked about his dropping into the Home Away for lunch, though before he’d had only breakfast there. He figured she hadn’t asked because she already knew the answer.

“Never,” he said. He wished it would stop raining. Wet weather always made his right shoulder and arm ache. He bit into his turkey club: lots of mayonnaise, crispy bacon, not so much lettuce the thing resembled a salad. It was actually past lunchtime, quarter after two, and he was the only customer. Marla leaned back with her fanny against the table across from his, half sitting, not in a hurry to leave.

“You grumpy today?” she asked, as if it were a serious question.

“A little, I guess. Did I ever tell you about the lawsuit against the hospital where my wife works? Names her as a defendant?” This is why I came here. To confide. To reach out.

“Never did,” she said.

So he told her. She didn’t interrupt him with questions, simply stood staring at the floor and listening. Had she listened to her patients that way, with that same intent but neutral expression?

When he was finished explaining, he brought her up to date. “Anne found out this morning the Vine family turned down the hospital’s latest settlement offer. She thinks they want to go to court no matter what and try to ruin the hospital and ruin her. For revenge.”

Marla crossed her arms and thought for a moment. “She might be right. You have to remember, they think she’s responsible.”

“I don’t see how they could really believe that. They must have seen the medical reports.”

“Probably think they’ve been doctored, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

Horn finished the first triangular quarter of his sandwich. “Yeah, could be. They’re not exactly full of trust at this point, and I guess I can’t blame them. Four-year-old kid in a coma he might not come out of. That’s a damned hard thing.”

“So revenge isn’t out of the question, right?”

“I don’t know. You’re the psychologist.”

“You’re a cop. Cops know people as well as any psychologist.”

“Was a cop.”

“Was a psychologist.”

He laughed and sipped his Diet Pepsi.

“Let’s get to your problems,” she said. “Any developments in the Night Spider case other than the new victim I read about in the papers? Neva? . . . ”

“Taylor.”

“Was she killed like the others?”

“With only the minor variation you’d expect. There isn’t any doubt it’s the work of the Night Spider.”

“What about a copycat?”

“Not likely. He wouldn’t know enough about the murder scenes from the news reports to recreate one so faithfully. But why do you ask about a copycat? Does the psychoanalyst in you sense something?”

She smiled. “It’s the waitress in me asking the questions, Horn. What’s the police profiler tell you?”

“Exactly what you’d think. The killer’s between twenty and forty-five years old, organized, intelligent, hates women and probably his mother, and stalks his victims before killing them. Yearns for fame and anonymity simultaneously. A

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