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By John Sandford

Lucas Davenport, "one of the simplest hard-case police officers at the crime scene this present day" (Houston Post) returns in John Sandford's #1 New York Times bestselling Prey series...

Lieutenant Davenport’s sanity was once approximately shattered by way of homicide investigations. Now he faces whatever worse…Two killers. One hideously scarred. the opposite strikingly good-looking, a grasp manipulator fascinated about all features of dying. The darkish reflect of Davenport’s soul…This is the case that would convey Davenport again to existence. Or push him over the edge.
 With a brand new advent by means of John Sandford

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What had he instructed her, there in mattress, an hour earlier than? You’re a gorgeous girl, he’d acknowledged, awkward at this, touching her lips together with his fingertip, so appealing . . . . He’d visible her at the ground and he’d became and run. What else may he do? one a part of his brain requested. The reduce half, the lizard half that went again to the caves, stated: Coward. He’d run up the steps, flying with worry, attaining to slam the bed room door at the back of him, to fasten himself clear of the horror, whilst he heard the troll slam out throughout the breezeway door. He snatched up the telephone, punched numbers, a nine, a 1. yet while he punched the 1, his quickly brain used to be turning. He stopped. Listened. No acquaintances, no calls within the evening. No sirens. not anything. checked out the telephone, then eventually set it back off. probably . . . He pulled on his pants. He cracked the door, annoying, expecting assault. not anything. Down the steps, relocating quietly in his naked ft. not anything. cautious, relocating slowly, into the kitchen. Stephanie sprawled there, on her again, past support: her face pulped, her complete head misshapen from the thrashing. Blood pooled at the tile round her; the killer had stepped in it, and he’d left tracks, one fringe of a gymnasium shoe and a heel, again towards the door. Stephanie Bekker’s lover reached right down to contact her neck, to believe for a pulse, yet on the final minute, repelled, he pulled his hand again. She was once lifeless. He stood for a second, swept by means of a premonition that the police officers have been at the sidewalk, have been arising the sidewalk, have been attaining towards front door . . . . they might locate him the following, status over the physique just like the blameless guy in a Perry Mason tv convey, element a finger at him, accuse him of homicide. He became his head towards front door. not anything. now not a legitimate. He went again up the steps, his brain operating furiously. Stephanie had sworn she’d advised no one approximately their affair. Her shut acquaintances have been with the collage, within the paintings global or in the community: confiding information of an affair in any of these locations could trigger a tidal wave of gossip. They either knew that and knew it'd be ruinous. He might lose his place in a scandal. Stephanie, for her half, was once deathly frightened of her husband: what he may do, she couldn’t start to expect. The affair have been silly, yet neither were in a position to face up to it. His marriage was once demise, hers was once lengthy lifeless. He choked, managed it, choked back. He hadn’t wept when you consider that formative years, couldn’t weep now, yet spasms of grief, anger and worry squeezed his chest. regulate. He begun dressing, was once buttoning his blouse whilst his belly rebelled, and he dashed to the lavatory and vomited. He knelt in entrance of the lavatory for numerous mins, dry heaves tearing at his abdominal muscle mass till tears got here to his eyes. eventually, the spasms subsiding, he stood up and accomplished dressing, apart from his footwear. He needs to be quiet, he suggestion. He did a cautious stock: billfold, keys, handkerchief, cash. Necktie, jacket. Coat and gloves. He compelled himself to sit down at the mattress and mentally retrace his steps in the course of the condo. What had he touched?

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