Free No Mercy by R. J.; Torbert Page A

not just walked out. Get all phone records and have the techs check their computers. Get close-ups and printouts of the hat with the mask that was worn in both murders, and let's see if it was in the Manhattan murder.”
    O'Malley stood up and asked Paul, “And you, what are you going to do?”
    “Well,” Paul said, “I'm going to read your reports when I get them, and once you leave the office I'm going to request to the boss here”—he pointed to Cronin—“that nothing about our investigation of this case gets out to the papers. What I do after that will be my decision and my choice as I supervise the investigation, especially when it comes to following up with my detectives.” He looked at O'Malley with a blank stare and asked, “Any other questions?” O'Malley just walked out of the office without saying a word.
    Paul looked back at Cronin as the detective lieutenant said, “Paul, let's get this done quickly. If by some chance there is a link with Deborah Lance, it will be all over the national media again and we don't want that, right?”
    “Yes,” Paul answered. He looked around and saw everyone except O'Malley was still there. “Let's get started, guys.” As they all started moving out through the door, he looked back at Cronin and said, “See ya.”
    As he approached the door he heard the detective lieutenant say, “Paul, keep close to Bud on this one. He looked out for you a couple years ago when Rachelle was in trouble.”
    “Don't worry,” Paul replied and then added, “You took over the lead on that case. What about this time?”
    Kevin Cronin stood up and said, “I had to; all of you were too close and emotionally involved to think straight. You have the lead unless I don't believe you can handle it. You have proven yourself over the last two years, but I want to know what's going on.”
    Paul nodded and said, “You're right. I'll be in touch.” As Paul left, Gina walked in with Cronin's mail and told him ADA Ashley was on his way in.
    “Damn,” Cronin said, “I never have any peace anymore.”
    “Also,” Gina spoke again, “Brian Branca's attorney is on the line.”
    “Who the hell is Brian Branca?” he replied.
    Gina said with a smile, “The owner of the City nightclub. He wants the club to reopen.”
    “Pass the call,” Cronin replied as she left. He thumbed through his mail and found an envelope with no return address but with cut-out, typed letters with his name on it. He opened the letter carefully and opened the paper up and read:
    A declaration that
    something will or will not
    be done.
    He folded up the paper as ADA Ashley came in. Ashley said, “Kevin, we got the approval for your undercover detective at Riverhead. We are going to have to speak to Chief Samuels at the facility, but it looks good.”
    “Thanks,” Cronin replied. Ashley could see his head was somewhere else. Cronin figured he would get the OK, which is why he had already assigned Detectives Baker and Chapman to the case. In fact Ellyn Baker was already on the phone with Al Simmons, Madison's attorney, to tell him the news.
    “What's going on?” Ashley asked.
    Cronin looked up at the ADA and said, “Close the door.” A look of concern came over John Ashley's face as he shut the door.
    Officer George Lynagh and Officer Justin Healey were no strangers when it came to protective detail. They got in the squad car and started driving toward the Village of Port Jefferson. They already knew that Deborah Lance was at the Coffee House in Port Jefferson Station having breakfast with Rachelle. Paul had sent Rachelle a text and discreetly found out she was with Deborah. Both Lynagh and Healey had never spent much time together until they were handpicked by Detective Lieutenant Cronin to be on the Priority 1 Task Force.
    Justin Healey was thirty-three years of age, 6'2”, and as disciplined and hard-nosed as they come. His jet-black hair and chiseled features made him look like a model when he had civilian