Shadow Prey

CHAPTER 21

Sam Crow raged through the house while Aaron sat silently in the La-Z-Boy, bathed in flickering light from the television set. Shadow Love's picture was everywhere, views from the front and both sides, close-ups of his tattooed arms.

"That fuckin' kid is ruinin' us," Sam shouted. He crowded against Barbara, who, frightened by his anger, wrapped and rewrapped her hands with a damp dish towel and pretended to do dishes between bouts of weeping. "How could you fuckin' go along?"

"I didn't want to," she cried, "I didn't know…"

"You knew." Sam spat. "For Christ's sakes, did you think he was delivering a fuckin' Christmas card?"

"I didn't know…"

"Where'd you leave him?"

"He got out by Loring Park…"

"Where was he going?"

"I don't know… He said you wouldn't want him here. He said he had to work alone…"

"Fuck meee," Sam called out. "Fuck meee…"

Aaron appeared in the doorway. "C'mere, look at this."

Sam followed him back to the living room. For the past half-hour, they'd seen report after report from Minneapolis: from the hillside where Hart's body had been found, from the chiefs office, from Indian Country. Man-in-the-street interviews. Lily, working the crowd, an NYPD badge pinned to her coat. People talking to her, thrusting their faces in front of the camera.

Now that had changed. A room with light blue walls. An American flag. A podium with a circular American-eagle seal under a battery of microphones, and a man in a gray double-breasted suit with a handkerchief in his breast pocket.

"It's Clay," Aaron said.

"… terrorist group has now begun striking at its own people. That doesn't make them any less dangerous but will, I hope, make it obvious to the Indian people that these killers don't care any more about Indians than they do about whites…"

And later:

"… worked with Indian people during my entire career, and I'm asking my old friends of all Indian nations to call us at the FBI with any information about this group…"

And more:

"… I will be accompanied by a task force of forty specialists, men and women from around the nation who will be brought in to break this ring. We are prepared to stay in Minnesota until we are successful in this endeavor. We will remain in full and immediate contact with the Washington center…"

"Lawrence Duberville Clay," Sam said, almost reverently, as he stared at the man on the TV screen. "Hurry up, motherfucker…"

"There's somebody here," Barbara called from the kitchen, fear thick in her voice. "Somebody on the porch."

The doorbell rang as Aaron hurried into the back bedroom, where he had been sleeping, and returned with an old blue.45. The bell rang again and then the front door pushed open. A dark figure, short hair, black eyes; Aaron, flattened against the hallway wall, at first thought it might be Shadow Love, but the man was too big…

"Leo," Aaron called in delight. A smile lit the old man's face and he dropped the pistol to his side. "Sam, it's Leo. Leo's home."