Secret Prey by John Sandford

that they ran through Polaris. And they’re still crooks. And they’ve got very good legal advice.’’
    ‘‘But don’t quote you.’’
    ‘‘Subpoena me first,’’ she said. ‘‘Then you can quote me.’’
    ‘‘Do you think Louise Freeman would talk to me?’’
    ‘‘Probably. She’s the kind who’d have all the dirt, if I do say so myself.’’

SIX

    A GRIM-FACED HELEN BELL STEERED HER TOYOTA Camry into the driveway at her sister’s house and said, ‘‘Audrey, you’re crazy.’’
    ‘‘It’s all right,’’ Audrey McDonald said sharply. She had a small black circle under her left eye, now covered heavily with makeup, where one of Wilson McDonald’s blows had landed. ‘‘He must be sober by now. He had to work today.’’
    ‘‘He could have gone to work this morning and be drunk all over again,’’ Bell said. She was four years younger than her sister, but in some ways had always been the protective one. ‘‘That’s happened.’’
    ‘‘I’ll be okay,’’ Audrey said.
    ‘‘You’ll never be okay until you leave him,’’ Helen said. ‘‘The man is an animal and doesn’t deserve you. Even the police know it, now—you said so yourself.’’
    ‘‘But I love him,’’ Audrey said. On the drive over, Helen had gotten angrier and angrier with her sister, but now her face softened and she patted Audrey on the thigh.
    ‘‘Then you’re going to have to see a doctor, together,’’ she said. ‘‘There’s a name for this—codependency. You can’t keep going like this, because sooner or later, it won’t just be a slap, or a beating. He’s going to kill you.’’
    ‘‘You know what he’s said about that, about a doctor,’’ Audrey said. ‘‘They don’t go to psychiatrists in the Mc-Donald family.’’
    ‘‘But it’d all be confidential,’’ Helen protested. ‘‘Times have changed . . .’’
    ‘‘After this bank thing is done with,’’ Audrey said, as she pushed open the car door. ‘‘Maybe then.’’
    Bell watched her go. She hated McDonald. She’d never liked him, but over the years distaste had grown into this curdling, bitter-tasting hatred. Audrey would never remove herself from McDonald. Somebody else would have to do it for her, like a surgeon removing a cancer.
    She liked the metaphor: Dan Kresge had been a cancer on the bank, and he’d been removed. Good for the bank and everybody employed there. McDonald was a cancer on her sister: the sooner he was cut out, the better.
    AUDREY EASED INTO THE HOUSE, MOVING QUIETLY, wary of an ambush. Was he in the tub again? In the study? She stepped into the kitchen, and the board that always squeaked, the one she’d sworn two hundred times to fix, squeaked.
    ‘‘Audrey? Is that you?’’ He was in the study; he sounded sober.
    ‘‘It’s me,’’ she said tentatively.
    ‘‘Jesus Christ, where have you been? I’ve been calling Helen, but nobody ever answers.’’ He’d been lurching down the hall as he spoke, a yellow legal pad in his hand, and when he turned into the kitchen, he spotted the black eye and pulled up. ‘‘Holy cow. Did I do that?’’
    She recognized the mood and moved to take advantage of it: ‘‘No, of course not,’’ she said sarcastically. ‘‘I’ve been hitting myself in the face with a broomstick.’’
    ‘‘Aw, Jesus . . .’’ That was all she’d get. He went on, ‘‘But Jesus, we gotta talk. I got a cop following me around. And the board’s gonna meet on Wednesday, but probably won’t make a decision. They’re talking about a search, for Christ’s sake.’’
    ‘‘A search? That’s just a way of slowing everything down.’’
    ‘‘I know that. It’s me or O’Dell or Bone.’’
    ‘‘Have you talked to your father?’’
    ‘‘Just for a minute, to ask him to stay out of it for the time being. I thought it might be a little too obvious if he got out there. At this point.’’
    ‘‘Good thought . . . What about the