He walked to the station wagon and flashed his light on the decal. It was the Rose Tree decal all right.

There were no lights on in the garage apartment. Wohl and Amy were either conducting a seance, or up to something else.

What the hell, Wohl had no idea I'd bring this envelope. He thought either Jason would, or maybe a Highway car, neither of whom would pay a bit of attention to Amy's car.

What I should do is go up there and beat on the door until I wake him up or at least get his attention. "Hi, there, Inspector! Just Officer Payne running one more safe errand. My, but that lady looks familiar!"

He discarded the notion almost as soon as it formed. Wohl was a good guy, and so, even if he wouldn't want her to hear him say it, was Amy.

He started up the stairs to Wohl's door, intending to slip the envelope under the door. Maybe, later, he would zing Amy with it. That might be fun.

He stopped halfway up the stairs.

I saw movement inside that van.

That makes two things wrong with that van: the grill was damaged. On the right side? Shit, I don't know!

His heart actually jumped, and he felt a little faint.

Oh, bullshit. Your fevered imagination is running away with you. The van probably belongs to the superintendent here. Wohl certainly knows about it, and has checked it out even before we knew we were looking for a maroon Ford.

He stopped for a moment, and then he heard the whine of a starter.

If he's been in there all this time, why is he just starting the engine now?

Matt turned and ran down the stairs, fishing in his pocket for his badge.

What do I say to this character?

"Excuse me, sir. I'm a Police Officer. We're looking for a murdererrapist. Is there any chance that might be you, sir?"

No. What I am going to wind up saying is, "I'm sorry to have troubled you, sir. We've been having a little trouble around here, and we 're checking, just to make sure. Thank you for your cooperation.

He didn't get a chance to say anything. As he got between the Porsche and the van, the van headlights suddenly came on and it came toward him.

Bile filled Matt's mouth as he understood that the man was trying to run him down. He backed up, encountered the rear of the Porsche and scurried up it like a crab, terrified that his leg would be in the way when the van hit the Porsche.

The impact knocked him off the Porsche. He fell to the right, between the car and the garage doors, landing painfully on his rear end, the breath mostly knocked out of him.

He thought: I'm alive.

He thought: Why the hell didn't I wake up Wohl? He would know what to do.

The van made a sweeping turn, didn't make it, backed up ten feet, and started out the drive.

He thought: Thank God, he's going and is not going to try to kill me again.

He thought: I'm a cop.

He thought: I'm scared.

He pulled the Chief's Special from the ankle holster and got to his feet and ran to the end of the garage building. His leg hurt; he had injured it somehow.

The van was almost up the driveway.

He became aware that he was standing with his feet spread apart, holding the Chiefs Special in both hands, pulling the trigger and pulling it again, and that the hammer was falling on the primers of cartridges that had already been fired.

The van was at the main house, seeming to be gathering speed.

Jason told me, "If you can't belt them in the head with a snub-nose, they're out of range."

Shit, shit, shit, shit, I fucked this up, too!

The van reached Norwood Street, crossed the sidewalk, entered the street, kept going, and slammed into a chestnut tree.

A woman began to scream, bloodcurdlingly.

Matt ran up the driveway. His leg was really throbbing now.

What the fuck am I going to do now? The revolver is empty and I don't have any more shells for it.

He reached the van, out of breath, his chest hurting almost as much as his leg. The van was moving, trying to push the tree out of the way, burning rubber. There was the smell of antifreeze sizzling on a hot block.

He went to the front door and jerked it open.

The driver was slumped over the wheel.

There was a sickening bloody white mess on the windshield. A 168grain lead projectile had penetrated the rear window of the van, and then the rear of the driver's skull, with sufficient remaining energy to cause most of his brain to be expelled through an exit wound in his forehead.

Matt reached inside and shut off the ignition. Then he ran around the front, went to the side door, and pulled it open. There was something on the floor of the van, under a tarpaulin. He jerked the tarpaulin away.

Mrs. Naomi Schneider, naked, her hands bound behind her, looked at him out of wide eyes.

"I'm a police officer," Matt said. "You'll be all right, lady. It's all over."

Naomi started screaming again.

Beep Beep Beep.

Tiny Lewis opened his microphone and said, "Officer needs assistance. Shots fired. 8800 block of Norwood Street. Ambulance Required. Police by telephone."

The first response to the call was from a Fourteenth District RPC. The second was, "M-Mary One in on the shots fired."

The Honorable Jerry Carlucci, Mayor of the City of Philadelphia, was returning to his Chestnut Hill home from a late dinner with friends. M-Mary One was the first car on the scene.

Staff Inspector Peter Wohl, followed by Amelia Alice Payne, M.D., entered the Rittenhouse Square residence of Officer Matthew Payne. Chief Inspector Dennis V. Coughlin was already there.

"Here's the newspapers. TheLedger and theBulletin," Wohl said. "I bought five of each."

"TheLedger! Why did you buy that goddamned rag?" Coughlin asked, surprised and angry.

"I think I'm going to have theLedger story framed," Wohl said.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Coughlin asked as Wohl handed him a copy of theLedger.

There was a photograph of Miss Elizabeth Woodham on the front page, in her college graduation cap and gown, three columns wide, with the caption, "Rapist-Murderer's Latest Victim."

SCHOOLTEACHER

STILL AT LARGE;

By Charles E. Whaley

Ledger Staff Reporter

Police Commissioner Taddeus Czernick confessed tonight that while " everything that can be done is being done" the police have not arrested, or for that matter, even identified, the Northwest Philadelphia rapist-murderer whose latest victim's mutilated body was discovered early today by State Police in Upper Bucks County.

"Our Police Department is a disgrace, and we intend to force the mayor to do something about it," said Dr. C. Charles Fortner, a University of Pennsylvania sociology professor, at a press conference at which he announced the formation of "The Citizens' Committee for Efficient Law Enforcement."

"A recall election would be a last step," Dr. Fortner said, "but not out of the question if the mayor proves unable or unwilling to shake up the Police Department from top to bottom. The people of Philadelphia are entitled to better police protection than they are getting. We will do everything necessary to see that they get it. The kidnapping and brutal murder of Miss Woodham, and the Police Department's nearly incredible ineptness in dealing with the situation, demands immediate action. We are not going to let them forget Miss Woodham as they have forgotten this psychopath's other victims."