Free Dark Harbor by David Hosp

important this investigation is to the entire city, and I’m sure she’ll use every means at her disposal to bring this sadistic butcher to justice. By the way, Lieutenant, where does the investigation actually stand at the moment?”
    Flaherty was silent, caught off guard by the direction the conversation had taken. Suddenly she wished she hadn’t been quite so territorial. It might be nice to have some political backing in this situation. After all, the investigation was stalled; they had no leads and no significant clues.
    Everyone in the room was looking at her, waiting for an answer. She had no answers to give, and they all knew it.
    “I have to wait for the coroner’s official report before I can give you anything concrete,” she said. It was weak, but it was the best she could do, and she hoped it would at least buy her a little time. Looking around the room, though, it was clear everyone there saw through her.
    “Is there
anything
you can tell us?” Clarke asked.
    Flaherty thought quickly. “Well, based on the wounds, we believe Little Jack may have had medical training. Because all of the victims have been white, he’s probably white, too; most serial killers hunt within their own race.” Great, she reflected. In Boston, with its dozens of leading hospitals, medical schools, and clinics, that narrowed the field of suspects to roughly fifty thousand individuals.
    She took a deep breath and continued. “We also have reason to believe he may have met the latest victim, Ms. Caldwell, at a bar near Chinatown called the Kiss Club. Other than that, we’re just going to have to wait for the ME’s report.”
    “Anything else?” Clarke pressed.
    Flaherty glared at him. “That’s all we have right now.” Clarke looked at her for several seconds. The room was silent, and Flaherty could feel the walls closing in. Finally he spoke. “All right, gentlemen, let’s clear out of here and let these people get on with their investigation. I trust you’ll keep us informed, Lieutenant.”
    With that, the entire upper echelon of Boston’s political and law enforcement communities got up and filed out of Weidel’s office. None said good-bye, or even so much as looked at Flaherty on their way out. Then the door closed and she was alone with Kozlowski and Weidel. The captain was rubbing his hands over his face nervously.
    “I sure as hell hope you get something from the coroner we can use. I’m not prepared to burn on this cross with you,” he said.
    “I think you’re mixing your historical references, Captain,” said Kozlowski.
    “What?”
    “A person either burns at the stake or hangs on a cross. You wouldn’t burn on a cross.” The detective kept a straight face as he said it.
    “Kozlowski, I have no fucking idea how you ever made your twenty years without getting busted out of the department, but I’m not about to take your shit.” The captain was letting his anger show now. “And you,” he said, looking at Flaherty. “You’re not going to have a chance in hell of making your twenty if you don’t find this guy, and I mean fucking soon. I guarantee you that!” Weidel stormed out of his own office, slamming the door behind him.
    “That went well,” Kozlowski said.
    “Yeah, I take you on the best dates, don’t I? Sorry about putting us on the spot. You know you’re now on the hook for this right along with me, don’t you?”
    “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Chapter Eleven
    Hallelujah!
    Salvation and glory and power belong to our God,
    for true and just are His judgments.
    He has condemned the great prostitute
    who corrupted the earth by her adulteries.
    He has avenged on her the blood of His servants …
    H E REPEATED THE WORDS over and over out loud. He no longer even realized he was doing it. It was one of his favorite passages, but there were so many others of equal power, and he could recall them all with such ease. They were the reason for his existence, and his existence would