Secret Prey by John Sandford

Author:John Sandford [Sandford, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: Suspense, Fiction
ISBN: 0425168298
Google: kgoMbjzpmR4C
Amazon: B002YKOXES
Barnesnoble: B002YKOXES
Goodreads: 216131
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 1999-05-03T05:00:00+00:00

SEVENTEEN

THE DAYS WERE GETTING SHORTER, TWO OR THREE minutes of sunlight clipped off each afternoon; and the sky had gone dark by the time Lucas was within cell phone range of the Cities. He called the dispatcher, told her to locate the fingerprint specialist and get her down to the office. A half hour out, the car phone rang and he picked it up: ‘‘Yeah, Davenport.’’

‘‘Lucas, this is Marcy . . . Sherrill.’’ Her voice was tentative, as though he might not know her first name. ‘‘Are you on the way back?’’

‘‘Yeah. I’ll be at the office in a half hour. We maybe found the gun.’’

‘‘What? Where?’’ Her voice suggested that she was on solider ground now, talking about the investigation.

‘‘In a drawer in the gun cabinet. In the cabin.’’

After a moment of silence, Sherrill said, ‘‘Oh brother. I’m glad I’m not the one who missed it.’’

‘‘You oughta see the sheriff: he’s talking manslaughter . . . Anyway what’ve you got going?’’ ‘‘I’d like to stop by your office and talk about it. If you’ve got a minute.’’

‘‘Sure. Where are you?’’

204

‘‘Out in Bloomington,’’ she said. ‘‘At the Megamall.’’

‘‘See you in a while.’’

HARRIET ASHLERSHOWEDUPTWOMINUTES AFTER LUCAS, wearing an ankle-length wool coat and a frown, and trailed by her husband: ‘‘Dick and I were going to a movie,’’ she said.

‘‘Jeez . . . Is it too late to go?’’

She looked at her watch. ‘‘If we go, we gotta be in the car in twenty minutes.’’

Lucas handed her the cardboard box he’d used to transport the guns: ‘‘A pistol and a fired shell. If there’s anything on the shell, I gotta have it ASAP. If it’s a matter of going over the whole pistol, that could wait until morning.’’

Ashler took the bag and said, ‘‘I’ll call you in ten minutes—you’ll be in your office?’’

‘‘Yeah . . .’’

‘‘We could come back after the movie and take a look at the pistol, if you’re willing to pay the OT.’’

‘‘That’d be good—but tomorrow morning, early, would be okay.’’

‘‘I’ll do it tonight. Dick can hang around. Then I can sleep in tomorrow.’’

‘‘I like fingerprinting,’’ Dick said cheerfully. He was a letter carrier and had a six handicap in golf. ‘‘I’d just as soon watch her fingerprint as go to a movie.’’

‘‘Well, we’re going to the movie,’’ Ashler said.

‘‘Art movie,’’ said Dick, as his wife started off down the dimly lit hall. ‘‘Made by some Jap.’’

‘‘You have my sympathy,’’ said Lucas.

‘‘Coulda been worse: coulda been a Swede,’’ Dick said, looking after his wife. ‘‘Gotta go: I guess I’m just a goddamn culture dog.’’

LUCAS HEADEDDOWNTOHIS OFFICE, FLIPPEDONTHE lights, pulled off his coat and hung it on the antique government-issue coatrack. Then he walked up and down his ten-foot length of carpet a couple of times, rubbing his hands, looking at the phone, waiting. Wanted to call someone, but there was no one to call.

Sherrill. Where in the hell was she? If she’d been in Bloomington, she should be here. Or close. He’d left the door open, and he stepped out and looked up and down the hall.

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