Free Darkness First by James Hayman

boonies. I know that’s why Carroll came prancing in on his white horse at four in the morning. And isn’t it interesting? You show up all the way from Portland just a couple of hours later.’
    â€˜If you think I’m looking for publicity, you’re out of your mind.’
    â€˜I’m a good cop, Savage. Got a good record. This is my case and I want it. I can’t do much about the boy genius horning in. He’s my boss and I do whatever he tells me. But you? You’re a whole different story.’
    â€˜I don’t care who catches this guy, Emmett. If it’s you, I’ll cheer loudest. But I plan on doing what I can because whoever killed Tiffany Stoddard also damn near killed my best friend.’
    â€˜Is that the story you told Carroll? You know something? I don’t believe you. I think maybe you talked about me instead. Told him you weren’t sure I had what it took to do this job. Or maybe you just batted those big brown eyes at him? Or wiggled your cute little ass? Carroll never could resist a cute little ass.’ He waited a beat. ‘But you know, since you’re here, why don’t you and I work together on this thing. You know? As partners. Might work for both of us.’ As he spoke he slid his hand on to her knee.
    â€˜All right, that’s it, Ganzer. Get your hands off me and get the hell out of my car. I’ve got work to do.’
    Ganzer didn’t move. ‘Don’t decide so quick, Savage. I’ve got a feeling the two of us might just get along pretty well.’
    Maggie pushed his hand from her leg. ‘Get out of this car and get out now.’
    Finally he opened the door and climbed out. ‘Okay. I know you’re here through Monday, and there’s nothing I can do about that. But come Tuesday I want to see you on the road heading south. If you’re not, I’ll do whatever I need to do to make sure you regret it. And enjoy every minute. That, Detective Savage, is a promise you can take to the bank.’
    A n hour later, still irritated by Ganzer’s bullshit, Maggie crossed the causeway on State Route 190 that connected the center of Eastport on Moose Island to the rest of Maine. The town was once home to more than a dozen sardine canneries but both the fish and the canneries had been gone for decades. Other businesses had closed more recently and the city’s population, once considerably larger, now hovered around 1,500. In spite of a picturesque waterfront and a reputation as something of an art colony, Eastport shared the general poverty of Washington County and depended primarily on lobsters, scallops and summer tourism for income.
    Maggie hadn’t been here in a couple of years. She did a quick circuit of the historic waterfront, which looked just as pretty as ever. Noted license plates on the diagonally parked cars from Wisconsin, Michigan, Florida and Illinois. She parked in front of the building just off Water Street that housed the town’s six-man police department.

11
    8:27 A.M. , Saturday, August 22, 2009
    Eastport, Maine
    C hief Frank Boucher stood up from behind his desk in his small, paneled office. Photos of former Eastport chiefs going back to the early 1900s lined the walls with dates of their years of service.
    â€˜So you’re the big man’s daughter, are you?’
    Maggie smiled and nodded. ‘Maggie Savage. Nice to meet you, Chief.’ She held out her hand and he shook it.
    Boucher looked to be in his early sixties. A receding hairline accentuated the roundness of his face which kind of matched the roundness of his belly, which extended well out beyond his belt.
    â€˜You had breakfast yet?’ he asked.
    â€˜Not yet,’ she said. Truth be told, Maggie was starving. She and Billy had done more drinking than eating last night and she hadn’t had anything since.
    â€˜Good. Let’s walk up the street to the WaCo. They keep a table on the deck permanently