"And you,re confident that they are telling us everything they know about the creature,s DNA."
"No, not at all," said the expert. "Undoubtedly they,re withholding information, trying to make sense of the data they have. And they,ve got their hands full trying to quell the hysteria. But the rhapsodic nonsense in the press about this individual is completely irresponsible and likely to goad him into even more vicious attacks."
"But how does he find his victims?" asked the commentator. "That,s what is so baffling here. How did he find a woman on the third floor of a San Francisco house or a homeless man being attacked in Golden Gate Park?"
"Oh, he,s been lucky, that,s all." The expert was becoming visibly disgusted. "And we don,t know how long he trolled for these people or stalked them before closing in."
"But the kidnappers, he found the kidnappers in Marin County when no one else could - ."
"For all we know he may have been connected with the kidnapping," said the commentator. "There was nobody left alive there to explain anything let alone who all was involved. Or maybe it was sheer luck."
Reuben hit the remote for another channel.
"I,m sorry, I can,t listen to that," he said.
At once, a woman,s face filled the screen. She was a picture of grief and distress. "I don,t care what my son did," she said. "He was entitled to due process of law like any other American; he didn,t deserve to be torn limb from limb by a monster who holds himself to be judge, jury, and executioner. And now people are singing the praises of his killer." She started to sob. "Has the world gone mad?"
Cut away to the news anchor, a long-haired dark-skinned woman with a rich mellow voice.
"Who is this mysterious being now known around the globe as the San Francisco Man Wolf - who comforts little children, carries a homeless man back to his hiding place, and frees an entire busload of kidnap victims after setting off an alarm to summon help? Right now authorities have more questions than they have answers. [Shots of City Hall, officials gathered before microphones.] But one thing is certain. People do not fear the San Francisco Man Wolf. They are celebrating him, bombarding the Internet with sketches of him, poems to him, even songs."
The camera closed on a pair of youngsters in cheap garish orange gorilla costumes holding a hand-painted sign: MAN WOLF WE LOVE YOU! Cut to a teenage girl with a guitar singing: "It was the Man Wolf, it was the Man Wolf, it was the Man Wolf with the big blue eyes!"
Woman on the street before a reporter,s handheld mike: "It,s troubling that they are keeping these witnesses from talking directly to the press! Why are we hearing all about what these people saw but not hearing from them ourselves?"
"Well, how do you expect people to feel?" said a tall man, questioned on a busy street corner against a backdrop of the Powell Street cable car clanging noisily downhill. "Is there any one of us who doesn,t want to strike back at all the evil in this world? Look, these kidnappers murdered two kids. A third died from a ketoacidosis coma. And who,s afraid of the guy, may I ask? I,m not. Are you?"
Reuben hit the OFF button.
"I,ve had enough," he said apologetically.
Laura nodded.
"So have I," she said. She walked soundlessly to the fireplace and gave the logs a nudge with the brass poker, then returned to the couch, snuggling up against the white pillow she,d brought down from upstairs, and covering up with a white blanket. She had Reuben,s new collection of books on werewolf literature. She,d been reading them on and off since they arrived.
The room was comfortably lighted by the brass lamp on the desk. All the draperies were closed. Reuben had closed them throughout the house - quite a chore, but they had both wanted it.
Reuben wanted for all the world to snuggle up with her now, either here or upstairs in the regal bed of the master bedroom.
But they were both on tenterhooks. All Reuben could think about was "the transformation." Would it come? Would it not come? And if it did not come, how bad would the restlessness get? He was already feeling it.
"If only I knew," he said with a sigh. "Will this be something that happens to me every night for the rest of my life? If only I knew some way to predict or control it."
Laura was quietly entirely sympathetic. She asked for one thing: to stay close to him.
Their first couple of hours at the house had been blissful. Reuben had loved revealing the place room by room to Laura, and she had fallen in love with the master bedroom, as he,d hoped.
Galton had installed a great many new plants in the conservatory, and even sought to arrange them in some decent fashion.
The orchid trees were magnificent, well over eight feet tall and filled with pinkish-purple blossoms, though some had been a little damaged in transit. They were in wooden pots. It took Reuben,s breath away to think that Marchent had ordered these right before her life came to an end. These trees flanked the fountain, and a white marble-top table with two white iron chairs now stood right in front of it.
The fountain had been reinvigorated and the water was rumbling beautifully from the small basin atop its fluted column into the broad flat basin below.
Reuben,s computer equipment and printer had arrived, along with the Blu-ray films. And all of the many television sets were fully equipped and working.
Reuben had spent some time answering e-mails, principally to head off trouble. Celeste had reported that the DNA findings for the Man Wolf case were "frustrating everybody," but she hadn,t elaborated on what that meant.
And Grace had insisted that he needed to come home for more tests. But that if anyone asked him for another DNA sample, he was to refuse. And he should know they could not take it from him against his will without a warrant. She was looking into the matter of a private facility in Sausalito, recommended by the Russian doctor from Paris, that might be the perfect place for some confidential research.
She,d also cautioned him sternly against talking to reporters. With every new revelation concerning the Man Wolf, the reporters grew bolder in their search for a comment from Reuben, even showing up at the door of the Russian Hill house now, or calling the family,s private landline.
Billie wanted some deep reflection on the Man Wolf craze.
Maybe now was the time to offer it. He,d watched as much of the national news as he could endure, and had surveyed enough online to have a feel for the range of public responses.
It was good here, being alone with Laura. The silence, the crackle of the fire, the whispers of the forest beyond the curtains. Why not work? Who said that he couldn,t work? Who said that he could not go on working?