He hooked his hand-radio onto his belt, locked the car, and opened the trunk. The trunk light was busted, but he could see enough to rummage through the items—first-aid kit, packet of surgical gloves, evidence bags, rope, blanket, fire extinguisher—where had he put the flashlight? He picked up the blanket. Success! And miracle of miracles, the batteries still had juice in them.

A quick search on foot.

The early morning air felt good on his face. He heard his own footsteps reverberating in the quiet of the night and felt as if he were violating someone’s privacy. Something darted in front of his feet. A small animal—a rat or a lizard. Scores of them roamed the developments, all of the suckers pissed off at being displaced by building foundation. But that wasn’t what he’d seen before. That had been bigger, at least the size of a dog or cat. Yet its gait had been odd—staggering, as if drunk.

He walked a half-block to the north, shining his beam between the nearly identical houses. Not much space to illuminate; the homes almost abutted one another, separated only by a hedge of Eugenia saplings. The houses were cheaply built, the stucco barely dry but already beginning to crack. The front lawns were patches of green sod, and many of them held swing sets and aluminum lawn furniture. Some of the driveways were repositories for toys, bicycles, baby walkers, bats and balls. The uncluttered driveways housed vans and station wagons, and small motorboats as well. Lake Castaic was fifteen minutes away. The developers had advertised that, and had succeeded in their goal of attracting young families. Ten percent down and low-cost financing hadn’t hurt, either.

He strolled to the end of the street—this one was called Pine Road—then crossed over and started back to the unmarked. Then he heard it—a faint whistling in the background. A familiar sound, one that he’d heard many times in the past but couldn’t place at the moment.

He jogged in its direction. The sound grew a little louder, then stopped. He waited a minute.

Nothing.

Frustrated, he decided to head home, then heard the whistling again, farther in the distance. Whatever was making the noise was on the move, and it was a quick little bugger.

He sprinted two blocks down Pine Road and turned onto Ohio Avenue. Loads of imagination the developers had when naming the streets. The north-south roads were trees, east-west were states.

The noise became louder, one that Decker recognized immediately. His heart raced against his chest. The adrenaline surge. The sound was now clear—a high-pitched wail. Goddam wonder it didn’t wake up the entire neighborhood.

He ran in the direction of the shriek, pulling out his radio and calling for backup—screaming heard on Ohio and Sycamore. He pulled out his gun.

“Police!” he shouted. “Freeze!”