Ten Plagues

Keren could see Paul was pinning everything on being there to intervene when Pravus surfaced with LaToya. A small army of cops was going to sit a vigil on every green space and body of water near the Lighthouse Mission.

When the sun was finally low enough in the sky, O’Shea stood up and pulled on his suit coat. “I’ve got my own water hole to stake out. I’m making the freak do some real police work for a change.”

“Freak?” Keren asked, though she had a pretty good idea.

“Dyson. I can’t decide if he’s psychic or psycho. I bet he lives in his mama’s basement—alone.”

By tacit agreement Paul and Keren teamed up, and, at nine o’clock, they gathered some supplies before they abandoned the musty halls of the precinct station and headed for the park in Keren’s car.

“Paul, you know we’re just guessing about this location.” Keren badly wanted to lower his expectations. He had a battle-weary cop’s view of reality and the redeemed heart of a Christian. The combination ought to make him the toughest man walking the planet. Even with all that, he was going to be devastated if LaToya turned up dead.

“Even if we get him, she might already be dead,” Keren reminded him gently. “Dr. Schaefer said Juanita was killed very close to the time her body was dumped. But the findings could be off, especially since she was in the water so long. She could have been killed wherever Pravus was hiding then brought directly to the fountain.”

“You don’t have to tell me it’s a long shot.” Paul settled lower in the seat with a pigheaded look on his face, as if he expected her to hit an ejector button to get rid of him.

“We need to leave the car off a ways and slip in close.” Keren pulled into a parking structure a couple of blocks from the park. “We have to figure Pravus will be very careful about dumping her.”

“How about we hunker down in those bushes you ran into last night?”

Keren glanced at him, grateful he didn’t add, To get away from kissing me. “Sounds good. I brought a thermos of coffee, a couple of waterproof sheets, and two blankets.”

“I hope it’s good,” Paul said. “Strong coffee like we make at the Lighthouse Mission, not that wimpy stuff you and O’Shea like to drink.”

With an inelegant snort, Keren gathered her blankets from the backseat. “Like you’ve never had coffee at a police station. We drink it burned and black. I can’t believe there’s a cop in the city with any stomach lining left.”

They quit talking as they neared the park. The gang problem had abated some in recent years. The park was still a known hangout for them, but the trouble usually started later at night. In the settling dusk, it was deserted.

Keren felt foolish climbing into the twenty-foot-square thicket of stunted trees. If anyone was around, they were busted, because the park was very open.

They studied the area around the pond. The park swept away in three directions. Keren looked down a grassy slope that didn’t often see a mower. The setting sun was forgiving to the sparse grass and the litter. The green expanse was broken occasionally by rusty playground equipment and decorative plantings that had been hardy enough to survive the neglect that so often plagued the South Side. The city was close at hand on the side they’d come in on.

Paul whispered, “Do you have a good range of vision?”

“Yes, I just hope Pravus doesn’t decide he wants to hide in the bushes. These are the only ones, and it will get real crowded in here with the three of us.”

“If he does climb in, he’ll be within grabbing distance.”

“If he’s coming to this pond, he’ll probably come in from the street. There’s no place to park nearby. Let’s sit back-to-back so we can see in all directions.”

Keren laid her ground sheet down and they settled in to wait among the prickly branches. They didn’t dare talk above a whisper. As night fell, the land around them began to move. Keren marveled at the life in the little park. It seemed like a place of neglect and danger that would probably be best plowed up and cemented, but there was life here. Squirrels, creatures Keren would have said lived on nuts, began eating in the mounds of refuse scattered around the park.

“They’re hardy little things, aren’t they?” she whispered.

“What?” Paul turned around.

Keren said, “Look at ‘em all.”

“In the middle of all this concrete and traffic, who’d think there was so much wildlife.”

While they watched, pigeons came down in hordes from the buildings around the park and settled into their night’s feasting. Rabbits hopped boldly around the open area, belying their reputation for being skittish.

“Oh yuck, look.” Keren pointed at several rats that scuttled out of the alley.

“Big deal,” Paul murmured, too close to her ear for comfort. “They’re a link in the food chain. Anyway, what’s a pigeon except a rat that can fly in your window? What’s a squirrel except a rat with a more socially acceptable tail? What’s a rabbit—”