The Hornet’s Nest. Patricia Cornwell

want to spend so much of his valuable time with this rude, insensitive, inappropriate

deputy chief who was old and backward and, in truth, a jerk.

twIt seemed that fighting was a cloud layer over the Queen City, and Panesa’s pleasant

mood had deteriorated as well when his lawyer friend called at the precise moment

Hammer was locking her bedroom door and West was telling Brazil to grow up and

Bubba was on the prowl in his King Cab. The lawyer had been thinking about Panesa,

whom she had observed on the late news, in his stunning tuxedo, receiving a trophy.

The lawyer was thinking about Panesa and his silver hair, and wanted to drop by and maybe stay over. Panesa made it clear that this was not possible, and never would be

again, as Bubba parked in dark shadows near Latta Park.

^j Vft Bubba was in camouflage, a black cap pulled low. When he stealthily reached West's house, he was pleased that she wasn't home. Bubba could only suppose that she was being screwed by her sissy boyfriend, and Bubba smiled as he imagined her getting screwed again by Bubba, as he sneaked closer to the front of the brick house. His intention wasn't felonious but would ruin the bitch's mood when she couldn't open her front or back doors because someone had filled the locks with Super Glue. This idea had come from yet another of his anarchist manuals, and might well have worked like a charm had circumstances not conspired against him as he unfolded his Buck knife and cut off the tip from the tube of glue. A car was coming, and Bubba wisely supposed it might be the cop returning home. It was too late to run, and he dove into the hedge. The Cavalier wagon passed, carrying Ned Toms to The Fish Market, where he was about to start his shift, unpacking seafood from boxes of ice. He noticed a big dog moving around in bushes in front of a house where he often saw an unmarked cop car parked, then his Cavalier was gone like a breeze. Bubba emerged from the hedge, his fingers glued together and left hand completely fastened to the right inner thigh of his fatigues. He rapidly hobbled away, looking remarkably like a hunchback. He could not unlock his truck or drive without freeing one hand, and this required his removing his pants, which he was in the process of doing when Officer Wood happened by on routine patrol, checking the park for perverts. Bubba was arrested for indecent exposure. tw West and Brazil heard the call over the scanner, but were not even close, and were busy discussing Brazil's life. "What the hell do you know about my mother or why I choose to take care of her?" Brazil was saying. "I know a lot. Social services, juvenile court, are overwhelmed by cases just like yours," West said. "I've never been a social service case. Or in juvenile court." "Yet," she reminded him. "Mind your own business for once." "Get a life," she said. "Declare your independence. Go out on a date." "Oh, so now I don't date, either," he snapped. She laughed. "When? While you're brushing your teeth? You're out every night working, and then show up in the newsroom by nine, after you've run your ass off around the track and hit a million tennis balls. You tell me when you date, Andy? Huh?" Fortunately, Radar the dispatcher hailed them exactly at this moment. Apparently there was an assault on Monroe Road. "Unit 700 responding," Brazil irritably said into the mike. They call you Night Voice," West told him. "Who's they?" he wanted to know. "Cops. They know when you get on the radio that you're not me." "Because my voice is deeper? Or maybe because I use proper grammar?" he said. West was making her way through more menacing- looking government-subsidized housing. She was constantly checking her mirrors. "Where the hell are my backups?" she said. Brazil had his eye on something else, and excitedly pointed. "White van, EWR-117," he said. "From the APB earlier." The van was moving slowly around a corner, and West sped up. She flipped on lights