Will notified Hensley that he and Don were in the area. Vic directed them to a cross street west of Carpenter’s house, which was third from the corner. Vic wanted the agents to come in from the side, one nearer the front and one nearer the rear of the house, covering the area on the other side of the bush line in case the subject managed to slip through.
“David 10, Zebra 5 to David 10,” Hensley called and Jen acknowledged. “You and your partner come in on foot from Eleventh and cover the rear. We’ll come in from the front, one on either side of the house and flush him toward you.”
“We’re nearly there now. Do you have a description on the subject?”
“Dark clothing, approximately six feet, medium build. Probably male. It’s too dark to tell much else. He’s standing in the shadow of the bushes and appears to be watching the target’s residence.”
“What about Carpenter?” Hank cut through an alley that ran between Eleventh and Twelfth in the nine hundred block. “Find out what her status is.”
“Zebra 5, is the target inside the house?”
“That’s affirmative. She went inside approximately fifteen minutes ago, alone. Lights are still on downstairs.”
“It’s him!” Hank said, his voice rising in excitement. “I’m betting on it. He’s hiding in the bushes waiting for her to go to bed so he can break in.”
Jen knew he was right. She felt it as surely as he did, and she tensed in readiness for what lay ahead. This was their chance, maybe their only chance, to put an end to the killings. They couldn’t afford to blow it.
She wondered what Al was thinking as he listened to the radio traffic.
***
The man who used to be Arthur Kelty stealthily stretched first one leg, then the other. He’d grown stiff standing in the blind he had chosen for himself in the bushes. The time was nearing. His prey was still awake and alert, but he knew it wouldn’t be long now. She was probably exhausted from her night on the town and would be settling in soon.
He’d felt his pulse begin to race when he saw her come out of the club, her firm young behind wiggling provocatively as she crossed the lot. Then he’d realized there was a man walking beside her, talking to her. He’d gripped the steering wheel tightly, the blood rushing to his head making him feel dizzy, and prayed. Not now! Not after all this waiting! She couldn’t—she mustn’t—take that man home with her.
His prayers had been answered. She and the man had exchanged a few words at her car, the man had kissed her, first lightly but then pressing closer, trying to take things to the next level. Tease that she was, she’d pushed him away. The man who used to be Arthur Kelty had been disgusted with the way she’d led the man on, dangling the pleasures of her flesh in front of him, but then denying him satisfaction. He’d been filled with hatred as he followed her home, his imagination running wild with the thoughts of what he would do to punish her. And now, finally, it was almost time.
In the distance, he heard a dog bark. He took a few deep breaths in an attempt to steady his nerves and flexed his fingers, anticipating the feel of her warm flesh. Then he froze. There had been a sound that didn’t belong in the night. It had been ever so slight, but he knew it wasn’t his imagination. His finely honed senses were those of the hunter, and he knew he had heard something that signaled danger.
CHAPTER 43
Hank killed the lights and the motor and coasted to the curb in the 900 block of Eleventh. Jen turned the radio volume down to a bare murmur, and they sat for a minute listening to the sounds of the night and their pounding hearts. In the distance, a dog barked, and Jen wondered if the killer heard it, too.
She took a long, slow, deep breath to steady her nerves and patted the reassuring hardness of her two-inch Smith & Wesson resting in its ankle holster. She keyed the mike.
“Zebra 5, David 10 to Zebra 5. We’re in the 900 block of Eleventh. Do you want us to move in?”
“That’s affirmative. We’ll be moving in from Tenth. Rover 2, move in.”
Jen could hear the excitement in Will’s voice as he acknowledged the transmission. She wondered if he was remembering a similar night in Minneapolis sixteen years before when he finally avenged the death of his sister.
Was their killer the son of that long ago madman? What a waste if he was, she thought sadly as she opened the door of the unmarked and eased it shut without a sound. Maybe if someone had intervened back then, they wouldn’t be here now, and Trish and the other women would still be alive.
Hank eased the driver’s door open, sliding the portable radio into his jacket pocket. He looked at Jen and grinned. She could see the excitement in his eyes and felt a thrill run through her. She had almost forgotten how it was on the street.
“Watch your butt, babe,” he whispered.
“You, too, old man,” she whispered back and saw him grin.
They moved quickly into the shadow of a low-hanging tree, slipped quietly along the sidewalk and across the street into the 800 block of Eleventh. Jen’s senses were razor sharp. She was aware of a bird rustling in its sleep on a limb above her, a late-night audience laughing on a television, and a plane passing high overhead.
They counted carefully, and when they were one house away from the one in the rear of Sue Carpenter’s, they cut into the yard, moving silently. A light was on in the rear of Carpenter’s house. They
