Part 4 (1/2)

”Exactly. And that's what makes you perfect,” Roux said. ”You're one of the most experienced serial-killer investigators in the country, outside the FBI. Inside this department, politically, you're both old-line and hard-line. You could chase a cop.”

”Why does she think it's a cop?”

”One of the victims, a woman in Des Moines, a real estate saleswoman, had a cellular phone in her car. She had a teenaged daughter at home, and called and said she was going out with a guy for a drink, that she might be getting home late. She said the guy was from out of town, and that he was a cop. That's all.”

”Christ.” Lucas ran his hand through his hair.

”Lucas, how long have you been back? A month?”

”Five weeks.”

”Five weeks. All right. I know you like the intelligence thing. But I've got all kinds of guys running different pieces of intelligence. We got the division, and the intelligence unit, and the gang squad in that, and vice and narcotics and licensing . . . I brought you back, gave you a nice soft political job, because I knew I'd eventually run into s.h.i.+t like this and I'd need somebody to handle it. You're the guy. That was the deal.”

”So you can run for the Senate.”

”There've been worse senators,” she said.

”I've got things-”

”Everybody's got things. Not everybody can stop insane killers,” Roux said impatiently. She came and stood next to him, looking out the window, took another greedy drag on her cigarette. ”I could give you some time if we hadn't had this Wannemaker thing. Now I gotta move, before the press catches on. And if we don't do something heavy, Connell might very well leak it herself.”

”I-”

”If it gets out and you're already on it, it'd go easier for all of us.”

Lucas finally nodded. ”You saved my a.s.s from the corporate life,” he said. ”I owe you.”

”That's right,” she said. ”I did, and you do.” Roux pushed her intercom b.u.t.ton and leaned toward it. ”Rocky? Round up the usual suspects. Get their a.s.ses in here.”

ROUX TOOK FIVE minutes to put together a meeting: Lester, head of the Criminal Investigation Division, his deputy Swanson, and Curt Myer, the new head of intelligence. Anderson, the department's computer freak, was invited at Lucas's request.

”How're we doing?” Roux asked Lester.

”The bodies are piling up. I've honest to G.o.d never seen anything like it.” He looked at Lucas. ”Sloan tells me there's not much chance that Wannemaker got it in Hudson. She was probably transported there.”

Lucas nodded. ”Looks like.”

”So we got another one.”

Roux lit another cigarette and turned to Lucas. ”What do you need?”

Lucas looked back at Lester. ”Same deal as last time. Except I want Sloan.”

”What's the same deal?” Roux asked.

Lester looked at Roux. ”Lucas works by himself, parallel to my investigation. Everything he finds out, and everything from the up-front investigation, goes into a book on a daily basis. Anderson does the book. He essentially coordinates.”

Lester hooked a thumb at Anderson, who nodded, then turned to Lucas. ”You can't have Sloan.”

Lucas opened his mouth, but Lester shook his head. ”You can't, man. He's my best guy and we're f.u.c.kin' drowning out there.”

”I've been off the street. . . .”

”Can't help it,” Lester said. To Roux: ”I'm telling you, pulling Sloan would kill us.”

Roux nodded. ”You'll have to live with it, at least for a while,” she said to Lucas. ”Can't you use Capslock?”

He shook his head. ”He's got something going with this deputy that was killed. We need to stay on it.”

”I could let you have one guy,” Lester said. ”He could run errands. Tell you the truth, you could help him out. Show him how it's done.”

Lucas's eyebrows went up. ”Greave?”

Lester nodded.

”I hear he's an idiot,” Lucas said.

”He's just new,” Lester said defensively. ”You don't like him, give him back.”

”All right,” Lucas said. He looked at Anderson. ”And I need to know where a guy is. A knife guy from years ago.”

”Who's that?”

”His name was Junky Doog. . . .”

WHEN THE MEETING broke up, Roux held Lucas back. ”Meagan Connell is gonna want to work it,” she said. ”I'd appreciate it if you'd take her.”

Lucas shook his head. ”Rose Marie, d.a.m.nit, she's got a state badge, she can do what she wants.”

”As a favor to me,” Roux said, pressing him. ”There's no way homicide'll take her. She's really into this. She's smart. She'd help you. I'd appreciate it.”

”All right, I'll find something for her to do,” Lucas said. Then: ”You know, you never told me she was dying.”

”I figured you'd find out by yourself,” Roux said. Roux's secretary had a dictation plug in her ear. When Lucas walked out of Roux's office, she pointed a finger at Lucas and held up her hand to stop him, typed another half-sentence, then pulled the plug out of her ear.

”Detective Sloan stopped by while you were talking,” she said, her dark eyebrows arching. She took a manila file-folder from her desk and handed it to him. ”He said fingerprints confirm that it's Wannemaker. She had a piece of an unfiltered cigarette in her hand, a Camel. They sent it to the lab in Madison. He said to look at the picture.”

”Thanks.” Lucas turned away and opened the folder.

”I already looked at it,” she said. ”Gross. But interesting.”

”Umm.” Inside the folder was an eight-by-ten color photograph of a body in a snowdrift. The faceup att.i.tude was almost the same as that of the Wannemaker woman, with the same ma.s.sive abdominal wound; pieces of a plastic garbage bag were scattered around in the snow. The secretary was looking over his shoulder, and Lucas half-turned. ”There's a state investigator who's been in and out of here, name of Meagan Connell. Could you find her and ask her to call me?”

4.

LUCAS'S OFFICE WAS fifteen feet square, no window, with a door that opened directly to a hallway. He had a wooden desk and chair, three visitor's chairs, two file cabinets, a bookcase, a computer, and a three-b.u.t.ton phone. A map of the Twin Cities metro area covered most of one wall, a cork bulletin board another. He hung his jacket on a wooden hanger and the wooden hanger on a wall hook, sat down, pulled open the bottom desk drawer with his toe, put his feet on it, and picked up the telephone and dialed. A woman answered.