what I am and for my limitations. I can't tell you how good that feels.'
Brolan nodded.
Wagner picked up his glass again. He stared straight at Brolan. 'You really didn't kill her, did you?'
'No.'
'It was very unlike her to do what she did the other night.
Walk into the bar and bump into you that way. Obviously she needed the money; obviously somebody hired her.'
'If I knew who hired her, I might know who killed her.'
'I agree, Mr. Brolan. And so I have a deal to propose.'
'A deal?'
'Yes.' He sipped his Pepsi and set the glass down again. He rolled his wheelchair farther into the living room, closer to Brolan. 'I'm a very smart man, Mr. Brolan.'
'I don't have any doubt about that.'
'And I know a great deal about Emma.'
'I know that, too.'
'But what I don't have is a body that enables me to pursue her killer.'
Brolan found himself drawn deeply into this conversation. 'Go on.'
'You could be my body, Mr. Brolan. You could go all the places I'd go, ask all the questions I'd ask, chase down all the people I'd chase down. Then you'd be off the hook, and I'd have her killer. How does that sound?'
'Very reasonable.'
'You'd be willing, to do it? Work together on this?' Brolan laughed unhappily.
'I don't have much time. I need to come up with answers fast. You can help me.'
'But there's just one promise I need from you.'
'Oh?'
'When you catch the killer-male or female, it doesn't matter-you turn the killer over to me.'
'For what reason?'
'My own reasons, Mr. Brolan.'
'I'm not sure I like the sound of that.'
'I need your promise, Mr. Brolan.'
Did Brolan have any choice? 'All right. You've got it.'
'Good. Now we can get to work.'
Brolan was confused. 'Work?'
Wagner rolled his chair over to the computer. When he turned it on, it made an electronic whining noise for an instant; then an orange flare exploded in the centre of the screen.
'Why don't you come over and join me, Mr. Brolan? I'll need your help. We're going to make computer profiles of all the suspects we have on hand.'
Brolan smiled. That was the first good idea he'd heard since finding a dead woman in his freezer the previous night.
Wagner said, 'Why don't you go get us a couple more Diet Pepsis, Mr. Brolan?'
10
They were driving route 494, out by the airport, when he took an exit abruptly, hitting first an access road and then a gravel road.
'Where we going?' the girl asked.
'Nowhere in particular.'
'I'm kinda hungry.'
'How about afterward we go to a Perkins'?'
'Can you get pancakes this late?'
'Far as I know.'
'I love their pancakes,' she said. It was the first time she'd sounded enthusiastic about anything.
She fiddled with the stations. Trying to get the very best rocker. He wondered about her taste. So far she'd tuned past Bruce Springsteen, Michael Jackson, and Elton John. Whom did she like anyway? Then a soul group came on-a pretty good soul group actually, though he had no idea who they were-and she settled back and closed her eyes and gave herself over to the music. He saw her slight body sway in rhythm to the radio. He felt his erection stiffen. Definitely an erotic little trick. Definitely.
In ten minutes they were driving past a new housing development. It was one of those projects that looked as if it had been hurled up over the past twenty-four hours-boxy designs and low-pitched roofs and asymmetrical front facades. Its lights seemed obstinate against the rolling prairie night. Then it was gone, a dim fluttering light on the horizon behind, and they were once again in headlight darkness, dust rolling up and coating the car a rough silver.
It was probably going to be much like the other night. He had the same knife, same tarpaulin. Only this time Brolan wasn't going to get a chance to do anything with the body. Fucking Brolan. Smart-ass. Or thought he was, anyway.
He pulled off the road onto a hard mud path where tractors were driven through a gate in the surrounding fence.
'I thought I was going to do you while you were driving.'
'Changed my mind,' he said.
She looked around. An owl sang lonely on the night. 'I don't like it out here. Creepy.'
'I think it's pleasant. No hassles.'
'You going to let me see your condom?'
'Sure.' He reached in his rear pocket and took out his wallet. Three Trojans in red cellophane crackled as he took them out. He waggled them at her. 'See?'
'Okay,' she said. She shrugged. 'You want to-uh, do it or what?'
'Why don't we just kind of hold each other first?'
'Sure. I like it when people hold me. Sometimes I even have daydreams about it. People just holding me, I mean. Sort of like my mother used to.'
'I'll bet she was a nice woman.'
'She was real nice.' Denise sounded as if she were going to cry.
He reached across the car and brought her to him.
She kissed incredibly well, her little tongue moving quickly inside his mouth. He took her right hand and guided it to his erection. She took it with a hard, professional grip, beginning to stroke him immediately through the material of his trousers. He began gently bucking against her. It was as if she'd grabbed his joy stick and was literally steering his body around the car.
It was difficult to concentrate on what came next. While they were still kissing, while the thought of orgasm began to have overwhelming appeal to him, he brought his hands up from behind her back and fixed them quickly on her throat.
She knew at once what was happening. She tried to say something, to call out, perhaps.
But his hands were tight on her throat-he could feel the muscle and bone of it-and he knew that only after he had killed her would the sex be truly satisfactory.
She startled him by getting one of her small hands up free and raking her fingernails across his throat.
This time it was he who cried out. little bitch.
He heard the door open behind him-he hadn't thought to lock the doors, a very bad mistake-her taking advantage of the moment when she'd stunned him with her nails.
Then she got her knee and foot into the action, finding enough purchase in the car to start kicking him as he continued to strangle her.
He paused long enough to slap her very hard across the mouth, to reassert his domination, but she continued
