The Saints Go Dying
Arthur Beautyman, a computer hacker turned detective, is hunting a serial killer targeting modern day saints. Every two months, a new body turns up--and the world is left with one less good person.
Against him is an unscrupulous reality TV show, whose sole premise is that the police are corrupt and incompetent. As the intensifying public reaction pushes all of Beautyman's resources to the limits, he dusts off his old habits--computer hacking--to dig up evidence he couldn't find legally.
But when he accidently leaves a cyber-trail, he finds himself targeted by a member of his own department, who doesn't know the hacker she's tailing is in the office next door.
It's a deadly cat-and-mouse game set against the lights of Hollywood.
just coming out of the church now. “His apartment and his car, Detective! Look for a Toyota.” Beautyman called. Clark didn’t need to be told, but Beautyman wanted to be sure. “Who uses this lot, Mrs. Warren?” he asked. “Do parishioners park here on Sundays?” “Oh, no, they all park out front or on the street. This lot is for staff and volunteers only.” “Do all staff have keys to the church?” “Not all, but most.” “Do any volunteers?” “I’m a volunteer and I do. Some others do, too.” “And to
looking woman he’d seen Monday morning when he dropped Raphael off. How long had she been up worrying about him? Had he told her it was a late shoot? Did she think he was cheating on her? Now she looked beautiful in her empathy. She was perfectly cast as the wife of a Hollywood actor—gorgeous, blonde, trim, and young. But now, sitting with the homeless woman, she also managed to look far more human than the plasticized trophies that were everywhere else. He waited 15 minutes. She had noticed
Beautyman felt confident about, it was that the Babylon killer didn’t come back to the scene of the crime. The FBI presented Beautyman with reports on the psychology of a killer who didn’t feel the need to revisit the scene of the crime with police present, which was uninteresting and unhelpful. But that’s because he didn’t need to revisit it, Beautyman thought bitterly. He got to re-enact it for the cameras later. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He thought about Judith.
and drum beat that signaled the beginning of Watchdog. The opening credits faded to host John Andre, standing by an alleyway. Beautyman quickly recognized it as the film set that he’d arrested Raphael on earlier in the day. “Good evening,” Andre said with great solemnity, as if the viewing audience had tuned in to a state funeral. “Tonight, my friends, one of our own is a hostage. Hostage to the whims of a small man who cracked under the pressure of his own failures, incompetence, and vices.”
or selflessness made you a saint, and being a saint made you a target, how would people react? While L.A. panicked, for Beautyman it was starting to become almost routine. Victims’ lives would be investigated and overturned. Their last week would be nailed down to the minute, if possible. The hundreds of people who might have been in contact with them were interviewed and sometimes brought in for further questioning. And the FBI would tell Beautyman that the killer would be getting more