Free The Power by Cynthia Roberts Page B

shouted in frustration.
    Jack let out a sarcastic laugh. This was unbelievable. Fed up, he lurched forward, grabbed the kid by the collar of his shirt and practically dragged the kid out of his seat. Jack leaned in close enough to glare into the kid’s alarmed eyes. “Cut the shit, kid. Right now, you’re my only suspect. Do you know what that means?”
    “You ain’t got shit. Check the alley. Check the dead guy. You won’t find my prints anywhere, man! You got no weapon, no blood on me anywhere. I ain’t done shit!” Jose shouted into Jack’s face , and Jack’s fist clenched tighter on the kid’s shirt until he realized he was choking him. Tempted to finish the job, Jack let out a frustrated growl and allowed Jose to fall back into his seat. This had clearly been a waste of time, Jack groaned. Standing, he walked to the door and rapped on it with his knuckles.
    “You can’t hold me here, man. I ain’t done nothing.” Jose called knowingly, but in a pleading voice. He was right, but Jack wasn’t going to tell him that, not yet. Instead, Jack walked out when the door opened. Thirty minutes later with much regret, he instructed a uniform to let Jose Gonzales go. Jose had been right. Jack had had nothing to hold him on, no proof, no witnesses, nothing.
     
                                                        
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter five
    One week later.
     
    Victim number three was found behind a bakery on Fifty-First Street Sunday evening. This time, the victim was female, showing Jack that the murderer really had no preferences other than the fact that he liked to kill under the cover of night. All three murders had been committed in the exact same manner: by brute strength, two jabbing wounds to the neck that were cleanly cut. Not a drop of blood had been spilled when Arthur Miller had been murdered which brought Jack to the same conclusion, the murder had taken place at another location, but what of the other two? What of Walter Brown, the young business man that had been murdered not three days before Arthur Miller’s body had been found? There had been blood splattered across the dingy alley walls as if it had been spray-painted there. It had been a raged kill. Anyone had been able to see that. It was the same with the body of Rita Gallenger: a bloody slaughter. Why had Miller’s murder been conducted so cleanly? Or rather, why had Arthur’s body been moved and not the others? Was it a time issue? 
    Because of the writer, Arthur Miller, and the odd way the three victims had died the case was getting a lot of media coverage, and this didn’t sit well with the Commissioner. Tommy Banks, the commissioner, was under a lot of pressure to see this case closed. The Feds had been called in, much to Jack’s annoyance and Jack had been assigned a partner, a new guy that had just transferred in from Brooklyn, a detective named Tony Bordello. Jack wasn’t sure about that one yet. The man spoke in a strong Bronx accent and dressed like he was going to some fancy dinner rather than working a case.
    Sitting at Garret’s Bar and Grill with his brother and the owner, Garret Stone, that Satur day night Jack did his best to forget the case at least for those few hours he had to catch up with his older brother. They didn’t get to talk as much as they used to, Jack thought with regret. Jack was always putting in the hours at the station or on the streets and Garret was always putting in the hours here at his restaurant. The restaurant had been open for going on six years now and was gaining more and more popularity through great reviews and A-listers dining in. Jack had heard that one of those guys from that show Friends had stopped in last week. Now more and more people were piling in, hoping to see the star again. That always happened the weekend after a movie star stopped by. While that was good for Garret, the packed house was keeping Jack from