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Eyes of Prey

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Overview

The death of the doctor's wife horrifies the Twin Cities, especially what the killer did to her eyes. A report comes in of a troll-like man near the murder scene, his face a patchwork of scars, but that bizarre clue is all Lieutenant Lucas Davenport has to go on as he attempts to sort out the murder. Still trying to recover from a pair of particularly brutal cases, bone-weary, his nerves fraying, Davenport isn't sure he's up to it -- until it happens again, the same savagery, the same mutilation of the eyes, and he realizes he has no choice. Little by little, Davenport is drawn into the web of a man of extraordinary intelligence and evil, a master manipulator fascinated with all aspects of death: the dark mirror of Davenport's own soul. As the hunt winds through darker and ever more frightening events, Davenport knows there is no turning back. This is the case that will lift him back to life -- or push him irrevocably over the edge.

Editorial Reviews

Sandford creates "one of the most horrible villains this side of Hannibal the Cannibal" (*Richmond Times-Dispatch) in this chilling entry in the Prey series. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.

Author Information

Bio of John Sandford

Like the best writers in this genre--Dashiell Hammett, Elmore Leonard, Ed McBain among them--John Sandford evokes his netherworld with authentic dialogue and meticulous details."--Minneapolis Star Tribune John Sandford is the pseudonym of the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist John Camp. Camp was born in 1944 and was raised in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. He received his B.A. in American Studies from the University of Iowa, and received his first training as a journalist and reporter when he was in Korea for 15 months working for his base paper. After the army, Camp spent 10 months working for the Cape Girardeau Se Missourian newspaper before returning to the University of Iowa for his Masters in Journalism. From 1971 to 1978, he worked as a general assignment reporter for the Miami Herald, covering killings and drug cases, among other beats, with his colleague, the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Edna Buchanan. In 1978, Camp joined the St. Paul Pioneer Press as a features reporter. He became a daily columnist at the newspaper in 1980. In the same year, he was named a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize for an article he wrote on the Native American communities in Minnesota and North Dakota and their modern day social problems. In 1986, Camp won the Pulitzer Prize for feature writing for a series of articles on the farm crisis in the Midwest. Camp has written fourteen books in the bestselling "Prey" series under the name John Sandford. The titles in this series, which features Lucas Davenport, include Rules of Prey, Shadow Prey, Eyes of Prey, Silent Prey, Winter Prey, Night Prey, Mind Prey, Sudden Prey, Secret Prey, Certain Prey, Easy Prey, Chosen Prey, Naked Prey, Broken Prey, Invisible Prey, and now, Phantom Prey. With the "Prey" series, Sandford has displayed a brilliance of characterization and pace that has earned him wide praise and made the books national bestsellers. He has been hailed as a "born storyteller" (San Diego Tribune), his work as "the kind of trimmed-to-the-bone thriller you can't put down" (Chicago Tribune), and Davenport as "one of the most engaging (and iconoclastic) characters in contemporary fiction." (Detroit News)

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Additional Info

Imprint

Berkley

Filesize

710.90 KB

Number of Pages

368

eBook ISBN

9780786566815

Excerpt from: Eyes of Prey by John Sandford


CHAPTER
1
Carlo Druze was a stone killer.

He sauntered down the old, gritty sidewalk with its cracked, uneven paving blocks, under the bare-branched oaks. He was acutely aware of his surroundings. Back around the corner, near his car, the odor of cigar smoke hung in the cold night air; a hundred feet farther along, he'd touched a pool of fragrance, deodorant or cheap perfume. A Mýtley Crýe song beat down from a second-story bedroom: plainly audible on the sidewalk, it had to be deafening inside.

Two blocks ahead, to the right, a translucent cream-colored shade came down in a lighted window. He watched the window, but nothing else moved. A vagrant snowflake drifted past, then another.

Druze could kill without feeling, but he wasn't stupid. He took care: he would not spend his life in prison. So he strolled, hands in his pockets, a man at his leisure. Watching. Feeling. The collar of his ski jacket rose to his ears on the sides, to his nose in the front. A watch cap rode low on his forehead. If he met anyone -- a dog-walker, a night jogger -- they'd get nothing but eyes.

From the mouth of the alley, he could see the target house and the garage behind it. Nobody in the alley, nothing moving. A few garbage cans, like battered plastic toadstools, waited to be taken inside. Four windows were lit on the ground floor of the target house, two more up above. The garage was dark.

Druze didn't look around; he was too good an actor. It wasn't likely that a neighbor was watching, but who could know? An old man, lonely, standing at his window, a linen shawl around his narrow shoulders... Druze could see him in his mind's eye, and was wary: the people here had money, and Druze was a stranger in the dark. An out-of-place furtiveness, like a bad line on the stage, would be noticed. The cops were only a minute away.

With a casual step, then, rather than a sudden move, Druze turned into the darker world of the alley and walked down to the garage. It was connected to the house by a glassed-in breezeway. The door at the end of the breezeway would not be locked; it led straight into the kitchen.