"I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of it. Now, if you'll let me-"

Baskel tried to go around her but she cut him off. "Guys are saying there's something in the canals, that too many people are getting slashed around them. That true?"

He sighed. "Is what true? The part about there being something in the canals or the part about people getting killed by the canals?"

"Both."

"Yes and yes."

"What's in the canals? And don't tell me it's an alligator, sir. No alligator could do this."

"I'm not sure," he told her again, stalling. "But it's something big and mean, and it does travel in the canals. That's why I told you people to keep your eyes on the water and your shotguns in your hands. Poloosa might be alive if he'd followed orders." Though not likely.

She looked at him, curious. "How do you know he wasn't following orders?"

"Because he's dead." And he walked away.

A tall brawny officer stood at the back of the patrol car, watching the canal with angry eyes. He held a shotgun pointed at the water. He moved and let Baskel by, saying, "How long ago d'you eat, Dave?"

Although he knew what had happened, sort of, and had imagined how the car would look, his imagination was nothing compared to the sight that awaited him inside the car. Twelve inches of the seat had been ripped out and what was left of Billy Poloosa's body, a leg, an arm, some spine, lay sideways across the computer panel in the middle of the bench seat. There was blood everywhere.

He turned and vomited into the canal, thought it right to dirty the water hiding the beast that had taken a man's life like this. He felt lightheaded and started to sway, tipping toward the water. A strong hand grabbed him.

The brawny cop said, "You don't want to be falling in the canal. There's no telling what might happen to you in there."

Baskel nodded his thanks and went to see the boy's corpse.

The cops had thrown a tarp over the remains and two shotgun-wielding policemen were standing by, staring at the canal.

Some people had apparently figured some things out.

Baskel lifted the tarp and looked. If he hadn't known it was real, someone could have told him he was looking at a movie prop and he would have believed them: intestines mixed with blood and gravel, and it smelled bad, as if someone had taken a dump.

A profound sadness came over him and a tear forced its way out of the corner of an eye and rolled down his face. He didn't care if he worked in law enforcement for forty years, he would never get used to sight of a child whose life had come to a violent end.

He brushed the tear away and looked up. The muscle cop and the lady cop, and six or seven other cops, all grim-faced, had formed a half-circle around him.

Muscle Cop: "Billy Poloosa was an asshole and no one liked him much, but he didn't deserve this. Neither did the kid. No one should go out like this. Whatever you need, Dave."

Lady Cop: "But we need to know what we're looking for. What did this?"

Baskel looked around the group, met each one's eyes, and nodded. "Alright, I'll tell you what I know, what I believe. But remember, you asked. You're looking for something that resembles a giant snake." Baskel looked at the ground when he talked, afraid of what he might see in their eyes and on their faces. "We don't know that much about it except that it's using the canals to get around. So far it's killed seven that we know of, maybe one more. Don't ask what it is or where it came from because I don't know."

He looked up, saw faces of stone.

Muscle Cop: "No snake I ever heard of could take a car door off."

"I said it 'resembles' a snake. Again, we don't know for sure what it is. It can take a car door off because it's teeth are made of some sort of unknown metal and are sharp as a razor."

One of the shotgun-wielding cops said, "You've seen this thing?"

"No. But I know someone who has. A detective who works for the Sheriff's Department, Daniel Lawless."

"He's seen it? With his own eyes?"

Baskel kicked at the dirt. "You could say that."

"You're startin' to sound like a politician, Detective," Lady Cop said. "We need straight answers, sir, not bullshit."

"You want straight answers, Officer? Alright, I'll give you straight answers."

He walked to one end of the half-circle and looked the first officer in the eye, and said, "This man, Lawless, is somehow psychically connected to this thing." He moved slowly around the half-circle, meeting every cop's eye. "He saw the thing kill this boy. And he saw it kill Poloosa."

To Lady Cop, "I was with him in his car and heard him describe exactly what you see over there by the canal. That's how I know Poloosa and Williamson weren't looking in the water like they were told. They were looking here, where we're standing. If they had been hitting the water with their spot, like they'd been told, they might have seen it and shot it, or scared it away. We told you to use the spots because it doesn't like bright light. All its kills have been at night, except for one."

He stopped and thought. "By the way, where is Officer Williamson?"

Everyone looked at each other, but no one said anything.

"No one's seen him?"

Someone said, "We found their shotgun at the bottom of the canal bank, but no one's seen Vijay."

"Great," Baskel said, rubbing his forehead. The headache was hinting at a comeback. "Has anyone called the captain?"

Captain Bozeman insisted on being notified when any officer was seriously injured or killed. Most of the officers looked away, or at their feet.

Baskel sighed and took out his cell phone.

As he dialed the captain's cell phone number, Lady Cop said, "Detective, do bullets kill it?"

"I certainly hope so, and I hope we get a chance to find out."

Vijay Williamson was hiding behind a row of shrubs in someone's front yard two blocks away. He shivered and mumbled, reciting sections of the Penal Code; it kept his mind off what he had seen by the canal.

He'd been looking through the passenger's side window when the monster ate Billy, but his memory of the event would never be clear. It had happened so fast and was so terrifying that even if he hadn't been in shock he still wouldn't have been able to describe the monster.

He'd stared at the quivering mass of red and white tissue for several seconds, his brain working to understand what he had witnessed, when he heard a soft splash in the canal.

A jolt of electricity had shot down his spine and out into his arms and legs. Thinking the thing he'd seen kill Billy was coming back for him, he took off, leaping off the canal bank, dropping the shotgun. He landed in the dirt in a dead run and didn't stop until he saw the shrubs he was currently hiding behind.

He shivered and recited Penal Code 102.78. "Pedestrians who enter a crosswalk shall have the right of way..."

He would remain in the bushes until noon the following day, when Fritz the Schnauzer sniffed him out and barked until someone came and looked. The man of the house was confused. There was a policeman hiding in his shrubs; who should he call, the fire department?

Captain Bozeman had just gone to bed when his cell phone chirped and Baskel delivered the bad news. Rather than hear the whole story by phone, Bozeman told Baskel he would take his report when he got to the scene.

Baskel clicked off and wondered what Lawless and Jensen were doing, grateful they hadn't called.

The damaged patrol car's lights had dimmed as the battery drained. Where were the crime scene guys? Their lights should have the area lit up like noon ... he hadn't called them.

After making the call, the group of cops approached again; uncomfortable, edgy.

"What's the plan, Detective?" Lady Cop asked.

"Everyone needs to get back to their assigned canals. Anyone have any questions about why you're supposed to keep your eyes and lights on the canal? If you see something in the water, shoot it. Just make sure your barrels are pointed down. Last thing we need is for cops to start shooting cops. And keep your damn spots on!"

They nodded, and the ones who didn't have specific crime scene assignments left.

Bozemen arrived a few minutes later and hurried to meet Baskel by the savaged patrol car. He was about fifty, not very tall, and mostly bald. He had changed into his uniform and looked like a policeman, despite having gone soft around the middle. He wore thick glasses that magnified his eyes.

After taking in the scene, Bozeman said to Baskel, "Why are those men facing the canal, and why are they carrying shotguns? They look like guards."

"It'll all be clear in a few minutes, sir. You wanted to see Officer Poloosa?"

Bozeman nodded. "Of course." He stuck out his chin and followed Baskel to the patrol car.

Baskel nodded to Muscle Cop, who trailed the captain so he didn't fall into the canal after he'd seen what was left of Poloosa.

Bozeman went to look, and a few seconds later Baskel heard a "Good Lord," followed by the sound of retching and a splash. Muscle Cop returned him to Baskel, who led him to the boy's remains.

After viewing that, Bozeman said, "What's going on here, Dave? Why haven't I heard about this?"

"Why don't we go and sit in my car, captain. I'll tell you everything I know."

"Mine's closer."

Wilber Cotton's dad staggered through the sliding glass door into the backyard, hitting his shin on a rusted barbell carelessly left in the middle of the patio.

"Worthless damn kid, leaves his shit everywhere," he muttered. It was his barbell, and he'd lifted it a total of twice: once to put it into the back of his truck and once to carry it to the patio.

He lurched around the yard, which was nothing but dirt and weeds, hollering for the kid, then stumbled into the brick wall. He swore and urinated on the wall.

Deprived of a chance to beat the kid, he stumbled back into the house and passed out on the sofa; he was snoring in two minutes, wetting the couch with his slobber. One of his friends, upon hearing him snore, got out of the recliner he was pretending to sleep in and went into the back bedroom to give the wife of the house a poke. She was too drunk to know who was on top of her.

They slept until eleven, then he drove away in his truck without saying a word or putting on a clean shirt. She ate a bowl of Trix, smoked three cigarettes, drank four beers, and fell asleep on the couch. She woke up at three, drank another beer, smoked another cigarette.

He came home at four-thirty with two cases of Keystone Light, "They was on sale," three drinking buddies, and foil-wrapped plates of gut-truck tacos. The beer went on ice, the radio was cranked up, the tacos disappeared.

It wasn't until after nine that she asked him, "Have you seen Wilber?"

"What's that little shit done now?"

Chapter 13.

After dropping Baskel off, Lawless and Jensen stopped at a McDonald's so he could clean up. When they entered the restaurant, the light was so bright he had to return to his car to get his sunglasses. She offered to get them for him, noticing his shaky walk, but he snapped at her: "I can get my own sunglasses. You don't have to do everything for me."

In addition to his unsteady walk he looked as if he'd aged several years since yesterday. Watching him walk back to the restaurant, wearing his sunglasses at ten o'clock at night, she noticed gray hair above his ears and on his forehead, and tried to remember if it was there before.

He disappeared into the restroom before she could ask if he was hungry, so she ordered two coffees and waited for him at a table. When he finally came out ten minutes later, his hair was damp and he had splashed water down the front of his shirt.

"I was about to come in looking for you," she said, pushing the coffee across the table. He sipped and looked out the window. "You hungry?"

"A little."

She got up. "Big Mac okay?"

"Whatever they have," not looking at her.

"Fries?"

He shrugged.

When she returned to the table with the food, he was still looking out the window, brooding. She passed him a Big Mac and the fries and took the wrapper off a small cheeseburger. He ate half his sandwich and set it down, pushed the tray away.

"What's the matter?" she finally asked.

"We had a chance to get it and we missed. We had everyone in place, told them what to do, and we screwed up."

She sighed and set her burger down.

He took a gulp of coffee and went back to staring out the window.

"Hey!" he shouted, getting up from the table. He was out the door before Jensen had time to react. She looked out the window and saw him chasing someone away from his car. She left the food on the table but refilled the coffee cups and took them with her.

When she got out to the car, he was sitting in the back seat, door open, looking at the canal map. Handing him a coffee, she said, "Drink up. Looks like it's going to be a long night."

"Bastard was trying to open the door," Lawless grumbled, sipping. He made a pained face and set the cup down. "Didn't McDonald's get sued for their coffee being too hot?"

Back to the map. "We had it trapped. Look, it was in Lateral Number Three right here. If we'd had guys here, here, and here," he was jabbing the map with a finger, "we woulda had it boxed in. Is Baskel looking into that heat sensor thing, with the choppers?"

"I thought you said it wouldn't work because the monster's cold blooded."

"We don't know for sure, and it's something else we can do."

He looked past her, out to a street full of Friday night punks, zooming around in their hopped up noisy asshole-cars, trying to run the Buick's and Camry's off the road.

"One day I'm gonna pull one of those punks over and shoot him between the eyes."

She reached into the car, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed Baskel's number.

The creature did something it knew it shouldn't: it swam back to the site of its recent killings, despite knowing the many humans there would be looking for it. It could not help itself, the emotional emanations of the humans around the slain prey were too great to disregard.