Sandford, John - Prey 08 - Sudden Prey by Sandford John

Author:Sandford, John [Sandford, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense, Fiction
ISBN: 9780425250532
Google: 8FlFEL7e24cC
Amazon: 0425157539
Barnesnoble: 0425157539
Goodreads: 168569
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 1996-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

STADIC WAS WALKING down the hall to his apartment, shell-shocked, his mind running at two hundred miles an hour. He was digging for his keys when the cell phone chirped at him. He pulled it out of his pocket. “Yeah.”

LaChaise, without preamble, asked, “What happened to Butters? And Elmore?”

“Jesus Christ, where are you?” Stadic said, his voice hushed. “You know what’s going on?”

“We’re at a friend’s,” LaChaise said. “We seen it all on TV. Who killed Butters?”

“Davenport, of course. I told you . . .”

“We thought it might be him. What happened to Elmore?”

“I don’t know about that. I thought you did it, when I heard.”

“We didn’t do it,” LaChaise said. He pulled his lip. “Maybe the Wisconsin cops.”

“Or the guys from Michigan,” Stadic suggested. “There’re a couple of Michigan guys running around over there. They are very pissed about this Sand guy, you cuttin’ his throat.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for working in the fuckin’ joint,” LaChaise said. “Try to find out who did it.”

“Okay,” Stadic said. “But listen—the wives up in the hotel . . . I hear they’re getting antsy. They want out. Davenport’s girlfriend is going back to the University of Minnesota hospital.”

“What’s her name? We never got any insurance on her.”

“ ’Cause they’re not married and you didn’t say what you wanted the information for. Her name is Weather Karkinnen and she’s a doctor over there. In surgery.”

“Who else? Who’s leaving the hotel?”

“Jennifer Carey, the TV news reporter. She’s the mother of Davenport’s daughter . . . She’s going back to work, but there’ll be guards all over her and they’ve got locked security doors and stuff. She’d be hard to get at.”

“All right. Find out about Elmore, if you can.”

LaChaise hung up, pulled at his lip again, thinking. After a minute, Sandy said, “What?”

“Davenport killed Butters . . . and the women are gettin’ unhappy about being locked up. They may be going back to work.”

“Probably got guards all over the place,” Martin said. “Tell you what: let’s get Harp’s car, and go on out to a supermarket and buy some food. Maybe dump the truck: hate to see it go, but I think we better.”

Sandy was sitting in the chair, folding into herself, not hearing any of it.

Elmore was dead.

The guilt was almost too much to bear.

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