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By John Lutz

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Example text

He got tagged with the Birdy nickname because he often made silent pecking motions with his head when he was tense, which was almost always. Tense on the outside, anyway, while his brain was placidly and relentlessly working. Meg thought that if Birdy really was a bird he’d be a vulture. One that ate bad roadkill that had given him indigestion. Some part of Birdy was always moving, fingers tapping, a foot bouncing in frantic rhythm, a hand clenching and unclenching, releasing the frustration and excess energy that plagued him.

Melbourne smiled and shook his head no. ” Uh-oh. Repetto settled down in a brown leather wing chair facing his old friend and superior officer. Still smiling, Melbourne glanced around. “I don’t see any ashtrays. And I don’t smell tobacco. I guess for health reasons you gave up those Cuban cigars you used to smoke. ” “The lung’s pretty much healed. ” “I allow myself one every few days. ” “Other than that, I don’t smoke. ” Repetto didn’t bother to answer. ” “Yeah, that’s true. She’s been a cop’s wife over twenty years, Lou.

The bare facts were out there. The Night Sniper had killed twice because he didn’t like Repetto’s answer. If Repetto didn’t change his answer, two more people would die, and soon. Maybe he’d kill more people anyway, but those two, like the two last night, would be Repetto’s responsibility. That was the way the Night Sniper thought. The way Repetto thought. “I’ll talk to Lora,” he said. “Thanks, Vin. ” Repetto had never heard Melbourne sound more sincere. ” And Melbourne was gone. Repetto killed his cell phone and sat for a moment staring at it.

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