John Sandford - Wicked Prey

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Having spent the past two years in hiding following a daring and successful heist, a big -time robber is back in Minneapolis, having spotted the opportunity for an even greater steal. It's a couple of weeks before the big Republican party convention: thousands of people spending cash, which is flowing into a relatively inadequate Brinks warehouse, protected by only three or four armed guards. The robber's plan is to distract the cops by manipulating and alerting them to a possible assassination attempt. Lucas Davenport meanwhile has problems of his own, targeted by a psychopathic pimp, who blames Davenport for the fact he's in a wheelchair. Only it's not Davenport he's going after; it's his innocent daughter, Letty.

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"I know," Letty said. "I was watching you, but I don't want to see

Randy, because Randy's a violent asshole and he beats you with a stick. Doesn't he?"

She looked at Letty without saying anything, then past her, checking for Randy, then said, "Tiara."

"What?"

"That's my name. Tiara."

"What's your real name?" Letty asked.

"That is my real name…" she began, but when she saw Letty's head shake, she said, after a couple more seconds, "Juliet. Briar."

"How are you, Juliet? I'm Letty. Did you know that? My name? Or just my dad's name?"

"You know?"

"Sure I know. Look at Randy. He's been trashed so many times that he's living in a wheelchair. He's not the brightest guy in the universe. Come on, I'll buy you a Coke."

Briar frowned: "Are you really with a TV crew? You don't act like it." She looked around. "If you're with TV where's your TV stuff?"

"Down by Mears Park. Hang on." Letty flicked out her phone and called Lois: "Are you guys still down by the park?"

"No. We're up at the Capitol, cruisin' for a bruisin'. Did you ever find your hooker?"

"Yes. Is there any possibility you could come down Wabasha? I'm at Fifth and Wabasha. She sorta doesn't believe me about TV and I need her to," Letty said.

"I thought you were schoolmates," Lois said.

"We're not close," Letty said, smiling into the phone. Whew.

"The cops have Wabasha blocked off, but we could come down Cedar," Lois said. "Meet you at Cedar and Fifth? Five minutes?"

"See you there," Letty said. She clicked the phone shut and said, "C'mon, ride around for a couple of minutes."

Briar, nervous: "If Randy finds out'"

"He won't find out," Letty said. "He can't get around, we're walking away from him. C'mon, girl, have some fun."

Briar bobbed her head, and Letty took her arm and started her across the street toward the hill down to Cedar. "So, how'd you get the name Tiara?"

"Randy gave it to me. He said, you know, I need a better show-business name than Juliet. He said Juliet was old-fashioned."

"Oh!" Letty put on some outrage. "Juliet is a great name. You know that song "Romeo and Juliet"? My dad has it on his iPod, it's an old-timey band. Dire Straits, I think. You don't know it? Maybe I can get a copy for you…"

***

AS a child in her time and place, with the mother she'd had, Letty had learned a number of things that would never leave her. She was exquisitely sensitive to social differences: who was rich and who was poor, who was smart and who was dumb, who was succeeding, who was failing. And she'd always kept an emotional distance from people that she'd had to deal with, an observational distance. Jennifer Carey carried the same space-and had told Letty, "You could be a hell of a reporter if you wanted to be. You're really smart, and I can see you watching."

Letty knew what she looked like, and what she looked like was a rich, popular, high school kid. She didn't have to look like that: she chose to, when she was doing her TV thing. She could also look like a smart kid, which was different, a little less put-together; she could look like a shlump, and sometimes, at home, she did that look, watching, watching, watching.

Today she was wearing jeans, but they were designer jeans, and her blouse came from a boutique, not from Macy's. Her sneakers were sleek and cool and olive green, with rust-colored laces; and her sunglasses were small and oval and glittery. She was slender with good cheekbones; she was put together, and she knew it. She could see the weight of it in Briar's face-the weight of being arm in arm with a rich popular kid.

***

She got Briar talking about stage names, and then about clothes, and then about Randy-Briar didn't want to talk about Randy-and then the other girl, slowing, but not disentangling her arm from Letty's, asked, "Do you know what I do?"

Letty gave her another TV grin, one she'd practiced two thousand times. "Yup."

Now Briar disentangled herself and slowed. "Is that why you want to put me on TV?"

"Nope. I'm not going to put you on TV because that would really mess you up," Letty said. "I just want to prove to you that I am on TV."

"Why?"

Letty went serious: "Because I'm worried about you. How old are you?"

"Sixteen. Almost seventeen."

Letty was surprised. Briar looked at least a couple of years older. "How long have you been doing this?" "Four months."

"Ah, jeez." Letty let the sympathy out. "I'm so worried about you. I'm so worried about what Randy is up to. You know, if he hurt me ' my father would kill him, maybe. And he'd find out. Randy is dumb, dumb, dumb."

"He's not that dumb," Briar said.

Letty shook her finger in Briar's face. "Yes, he is. If he was a smart guy, you think he'd be living in a shack? You think he'd have gone to jail four or five different times, and he's not hardly thirty yet?"

"He's twenty-four," Briar said.

Letty's eyebrows went up. "Juliet-he's not twenty-four. Look at his ID sometime, when he's not around. He's almost thirty. He lies about everything."

Briar glanced back up the hill, afraid again. She looked like a denizen of 1984, caught talking about Big Brother. "He doesn't always lie…"

Letty said, seriously, "Yes, he does. He always lies. That's what he does for a living. He lies."

Briar looked down at the sidewalk: "Okay."

Letty studied her for a moment, then said, "Look, here comes the van."

"I really can't ride around," Juliet said, but there was a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

"You have to work?" Letty asked. She looked away: "Yeah."

"How much do you get?"

"Hundred."

"A hundred? Always?"

"Not always, but that's what Randy wants. Sometimes, if I don't'"

"I saw the stick," Letty said. "I was in your house."

"What?"

"I saw the stick," Letty repeated. The van pulled up, and Lois ran the window down. "What's up?" she asked, checking out Briar.

"We'd like to ride around for a few minutes, so I can show Juliet some of the equipment," Letty said. "And I need to borrow some money."

Chapter 10

Lucas had one idea, called Jones, the Minneapolis cop, and said, "I need to talk to the victims again. Soon as you can get them together. I hope none of them have checked out."

"They're still here. What's up?" Lucas told him about the murder of Charles Dee, and outlined the idea, and Jones said, "That could be something. Wilson's still in the hospital. We can meet there. As far as running around to these hotels-I got nothin'."

"That's "cause they were in Hudson. How soon can we get these people together?"

"Soon as you can get here, I guess. That thing about Dee, man- I heard somebody was down, but nobody knew what happened. You sure it's our guys?"

"Ninety-five percent," Lucas said. "Like everything else, though, I couldn't prove it."

"Fucker's probably walking through Miami International right now, on his way to Brazil."

***

Lucas asked the Hudson chief to keep him updated, said goodbye, and headed west, fast; there was a regatta on the St. Croix, two dozen sailboats beating around in a gentle breeze, and then he was over the bridge and back in Minnesota and on his cell phone, calling Lily Rothenburg at her Manhattan apartment. Her husband answered, said, "Hang on," and went and got her.

"What?" she asked.

"We've got a cop down, dead. Cohn did it. Cohn himself, I think," Lucas said. "He set his room on fire and we've got no proof, except that two semi-stoner hotel clerks think they might have recognized him."

"Goddamnit."

"I put his face everywhere," Lucas said. "It'd help if you could do the same, out of New York. All the national feeds we can get. If he's running, we've got to make it hard. If he's still here, maybe we can freeze him, keep him off airplanes, trains, whatever."

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