no money to spend on crack," Shadow Love said. He reached for the hardpack of Marlboros. "I can give you a smoke."
"Aw, man, I wouldn't buy no crack," Yellow Hand whined. "I need to eat. I ain't had nothin' to eat all day." He took the cigarette and Shadow Love held a paper match for him.
"Tell you what," Shadow Love said after a moment, fixing Yellow Hand with his pale eyes. "We can walk up to that taco joint by the river road. I'll buy you a half-dozen tacos."
"That's a long way, man," Yellow Hand complained.
"Fuck ya, then," Shadow Love said. "I'm going. Thanks for lettin' me stay." He'd paid Yellow Hand three dollars to use the mattress.
"All right, all right," Yellow Hand said. "I'm coming. I'm so fuckin' hungry...."
Walking slow, they took twenty minutes to get from the Point to the Mississippi. The river was a hundred feet below them and Shadow Love sidestepped down the slope.
"Where are you going, man?" Yellow Hand asked, puzzled.
"Down to the water. Come on. It's not much further this way." Shadow Love thought about Yellow Hand and Davenport. Yellow Hand had told the cop about the newspaper clipping: that was something. The black spot popped up.
"We gotta climb back up, man," Yellow Hand complained.
"Come on," Shadow Love snapped. The black spot floated out in front of him. His heart was pounding, and the rising power flowed through his blood like gold. He wasn't arguing anymore. Yellow Hand looked back toward the lights of the street, undecided, and finally followed, still bitching under his breath.
They crossed a river access road and continued down to the water, where the riverbank was supported by a concrete wall. Shadow Love stepped onto the wall, drew in a breath of the river air and exhaled. Smelled real. He turned to Yellow Hand, who had climbed onto the wall behind him.
"Lights look great from down here, don't they?" Shadow Love asked. "Look at the reflections in the water."
"I guess," Yellow Hand said, puzzled.
"Look over there, under the bridge," Shadow Love said.
Yellow Hand turned to look. Shadow Love stepped closer, taking the pistol from his waistband. He put it behind Yellow Hand's ear, waited a delicious second, then another and a third, thrilling to the darkness of the act; when he couldn't stand it anymore, the glorious tension, he pulled the trigger.
There was a sharp pop and Yellow Hand went down like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Shadow Love had intended that the body fall into the river. Instead it landed on the concrete wall. It took a minute to get it off the edge, into the water.
Yellow Hand's shirt ballooned up around his body, supporting it, a white lump in the current. Then there was a bubble, and another, and Yellow Hand was gone.
A traitor to the people. The man who'd put the hunter cop onto the Bluebird picture.
While Leo Clark sat at a truck stop and wept, Shadow Love sat in the taco stand eating ravenously, hunched over his food like a wolf. His body sang with the kill.
Chapter 7
Lucas worked on Drorg until four in the morning, and Daniel called at eight. When the phone rang, Lucas rolled onto his side, thrashing at the nightstand like a drowning swimmer. He hit the phone and the receiver bounced on the floor, and he took another moment to find it.
"Davenport? What the hell... ?"
"Dropped the phone," Lucas said sleepily. "What happened?"
"They did another one. A federal judge in Oklahoma City."
"Shit." Lucas yawned and sat up. "The way you're talking, the killer got away."
"Yeah. He had braids, like..."
"... the guy who did Cuervo. So there had to be at least three of them, counting Bluebird."
"Yeah. Anderson's getting everything he can out of the Oklahoma cops. And those pictures-we're getting them at nine. We'll meet in Wink's office."
"No problems?"
"Aw, we gotta go through the usual bullshit, but we'll get them," Daniel said.
"Somebody ought to call Lily," Lucas said.
"My secretary'll take care of it. There's one more
"Aw, man, I wouldn't buy no crack," Yellow Hand whined. "I need to eat. I ain't had nothin' to eat all day." He took the cigarette and Shadow Love held a paper match for him.
"Tell you what," Shadow Love said after a moment, fixing Yellow Hand with his pale eyes. "We can walk up to that taco joint by the river road. I'll buy you a half-dozen tacos."
"That's a long way, man," Yellow Hand complained.
"Fuck ya, then," Shadow Love said. "I'm going. Thanks for lettin' me stay." He'd paid Yellow Hand three dollars to use the mattress.
"All right, all right," Yellow Hand said. "I'm coming. I'm so fuckin' hungry...."
Walking slow, they took twenty minutes to get from the Point to the Mississippi. The river was a hundred feet below them and Shadow Love sidestepped down the slope.
"Where are you going, man?" Yellow Hand asked, puzzled.
"Down to the water. Come on. It's not much further this way." Shadow Love thought about Yellow Hand and Davenport. Yellow Hand had told the cop about the newspaper clipping: that was something. The black spot popped up.
"We gotta climb back up, man," Yellow Hand complained.
"Come on," Shadow Love snapped. The black spot floated out in front of him. His heart was pounding, and the rising power flowed through his blood like gold. He wasn't arguing anymore. Yellow Hand looked back toward the lights of the street, undecided, and finally followed, still bitching under his breath.
They crossed a river access road and continued down to the water, where the riverbank was supported by a concrete wall. Shadow Love stepped onto the wall, drew in a breath of the river air and exhaled. Smelled real. He turned to Yellow Hand, who had climbed onto the wall behind him.
"Lights look great from down here, don't they?" Shadow Love asked. "Look at the reflections in the water."
"I guess," Yellow Hand said, puzzled.
"Look over there, under the bridge," Shadow Love said.
Yellow Hand turned to look. Shadow Love stepped closer, taking the pistol from his waistband. He put it behind Yellow Hand's ear, waited a delicious second, then another and a third, thrilling to the darkness of the act; when he couldn't stand it anymore, the glorious tension, he pulled the trigger.
There was a sharp pop and Yellow Hand went down like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Shadow Love had intended that the body fall into the river. Instead it landed on the concrete wall. It took a minute to get it off the edge, into the water.
Yellow Hand's shirt ballooned up around his body, supporting it, a white lump in the current. Then there was a bubble, and another, and Yellow Hand was gone.
A traitor to the people. The man who'd put the hunter cop onto the Bluebird picture.
While Leo Clark sat at a truck stop and wept, Shadow Love sat in the taco stand eating ravenously, hunched over his food like a wolf. His body sang with the kill.
Chapter 7
Lucas worked on Drorg until four in the morning, and Daniel called at eight. When the phone rang, Lucas rolled onto his side, thrashing at the nightstand like a drowning swimmer. He hit the phone and the receiver bounced on the floor, and he took another moment to find it.
"Davenport? What the hell... ?"
"Dropped the phone," Lucas said sleepily. "What happened?"
"They did another one. A federal judge in Oklahoma City."
"Shit." Lucas yawned and sat up. "The way you're talking, the killer got away."
"Yeah. He had braids, like..."
"... the guy who did Cuervo. So there had to be at least three of them, counting Bluebird."
"Yeah. Anderson's getting everything he can out of the Oklahoma cops. And those pictures-we're getting them at nine. We'll meet in Wink's office."
"No problems?"
"Aw, we gotta go through the usual bullshit, but we'll get them," Daniel said.
"Somebody ought to call Lily," Lucas said.
"My secretary'll take care of it. There's one more
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