By John Sandford
A New York Times bestseller!
Lucas Davenport returns within the so much harrowing and unforeseen Prey novel yet—the tale of a congenial guy, and his so much uncongenial obsession...
paintings background professor James Qatar’s pastime used to be taking mystery photos of ladies. At evening while he was once on their lonesome he’d dream approximately them and indulge his fantasies. Then someday his delusion went too a ways. Now it’s Qatar’s flip to turn into an obsession—of Davenport’s. And for either males there’s no turning again.
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Additional resources for Chosen Prey (Lucas Davenport, Book 12)
Morton reached out and tugged his coat sleeve. “Come along, Jimmy,” he said softly, feeling, himself, both sorrow and guilt. Half-reluctantly, the young man turned away, and they pushed through the crowd, which was suddenly abuzz with chatter, and even laughter. But neither Morton nor Presley shared in this odd sense of release. They went quite a distance before a hackney-coach presented itself. Morton quietly gave the driver the address of the Bow Street Magistrate's Court, not wanting anyone in the crowd to hear.
Morton saw despair written there, but defiance as well, and anger. “Here's a pleasant diversion for you,” the condemned man hurled out, “watching old Caleb Smeeton and his good wife hang! ” He paused and Morton thought the man would break down, but he went on, strangely calm. “But how did those fine Bow Street men know where to nab us? Just where to be, and at what hour? ” he bitterly answered his own question, and glared out at the crowd. “Friends like you … “Aye, one of our own peached on us… the same as told us about the panney, and what hour the owner would be away.
Acton hesitated. ” The jarvey's shoulders sagged. “Off Cartwright Square,” he said. ” Morton mulled it over a moment more. “What is it you're not telling me, Ralph? ” “Nay, nay. ” The jarvey shifted from foot to foot. Morton stared hard at the man, but it had only the effect of causing him to shift more rapidly. The Runner drew out his hand, with a single shilling in it, which he turned reflectively in his fingers. “I will find out what happened to Mr. Glendinning, Ralph, you may be sure of that.