someone's taking the trouble to try to kill me, I must know something I'm not aware of knowing. The killer thinks I'm getting too close."
"Or you weren't the target, Rose and Peter were. You were just there."
"No, there's already a system set up to kill the wer, why change it? It's still working. I have a feeling this was aimed at me."
"A hunch?"
"Call it what you like, but if you call it woman's intuition, I'll rip your face off."
As he had no intention of saying anything so blatantly suicidal, he ignored the threat. "So let's go over what you do know."
"Shouldn't take that long." Knees braced against the dash, Vicki ticked the points off on her fingers. "I know Barry Wu didn't do it. I know Dr. Dixon didn't do it. I know Arthur Fortrin didn't do it. Anyone else might have, up to and including a chance acquaintance either of those three might have bragged to in a bar. Once Barry tells me who around London is capable of that kind of shot, well, I'll make some comparisons with those lists of the people who use the conservation area regularly. Hopefully we can decode these directions to his apartment before he leaves for work."
Celluci plucked the sheet of paper off her lap, scanned it, and tossed it back. He had complete faith in his ability to find his way around in spite of the morning's scenic tour of the countryside. "And if Barry doesn't know?"
"Someone knows. I'll find them." She smoothed the map out on her leg. "Oh, and it isn't Frederick Kleinbein either."
"Who?"
"Technically, I guess you could call him their nearest neighbor. He informed me that the Heerkens have a deep, dark secret." She grinned. "They're nudists, you know."
"Nudists?"
"So he tells me. Apparently, the locals prefer to believe in nudists over werewolves."
He shot her a sour look. "Hardly surprising. I am, however, surprised it hasn't brought flocks of young men out armed with telephoto lenses."
"I got the impression the 'dogs' took care of that problem."
Celluci who had been on the receiving end of one of those "dogs" in action could see how it might discourage a casual voyeur.
Vicki interpreted his grunt as agreement and went on. "The only other people I've really talked to are Carl Biehn and Mark Williams."
It took him a moment to place the names. "The two guys this morning?"
"That's right."
"So maybe it's them."
"Not likely." She snorted. "Can you see someone like Williams taking the time and trouble to become a marksman? Uh uh. The way I read him, it's instant gratification or he's not interested."
"And the older man? The uncle?"
Vicki sighed. "He's a vegetarian."
"He's not eating the wer, Vicki, he's just killing them."
"And he's a deeply religious man."
"So are a lot of nut cakes. It's not mutually exclusive."
"And he gardens."
"And you like him."
She sighed again, flicking the air-conditioning vent open and closed. "Yeah. And I like him. He seems like such a basically decent person."
"Another feeling?"
"Piss off, Celluci." Between the bright sunlight, yesterday's injury, and the lack of sleep, she was developing one mother of a headache. "Having a slime-bag for a nephew is hardly grounds to accuse someone of multiple murders. I am, however, going to ask Barry to check out Mr. Williams for priors, just in case. If you want to be helpful, and the wind is in the right direction, you can spend tonight watching the tree."
"Thank you very much. Just what I always wanted to do, spend the night out in the woods being eaten alive by mosquitoes." While you and Henry are comfy cozy inside? Not fucking likely. He glanced over at her and then back at the road. "Who says he'll go back to it?"
"It's part of his pattern when the wind's off the field."
"Then why don't you cut it down?"
"I've thought about it."
"While you're thinking about that, here's another one. If you know he keeps going back to that tree, why haven't you staked it out?"
"How? You know I can't see a damned thing after dark. Besides, Henry went out... "
"You sent a civilian!"
"He volunteered!" Vicki snapped, ignoring the fact that she herself was now a civilian.
"And did he volunteer to get shot?"
"Henry's a grown man. He knew the risks."
"A grown man. Right. And that's another thing, according to his driver's license, Fitzroy is only twenty-four years old." He took his eyes off the road long enough to glare at her. "You're almost eight years older than he is, or doesn't that... What's so funny?"
Although the vibrations