Volume Three - WordPress.com — Get a Free Blog Here

“Hell, no. When a damsel’s in distress, my father expects me to slay the dragon, no matter how big it is.”
Judge Salvatore Renzi expected his only son to uphold the family honor at all times. Now, more than ever.
“Dragon slayer?” Miller rumbled a bass chuckle. “Frank, we just a couple of NOPD homicide dicks on a task
force loaded with State cops and FBI agents. Boss-man wants us to re-canvas the vic-three neighborhood, catch
folks at home after work, ruin their dinner, we best get on it.”
Miller cracked his window and lit a cigarette. They’d been partners for two years and got along well for the
most part, but he wished Miller wouldn’t smoke so much. He’d quit ten years ago. The craving was gone, but the
memory was tempting: sharing a smoke with a partner after a near disaster.
An image flashed in his mind, a little girl sprawled on a filthy carpet, tears glistening like diamonds on her
Hershey’s chocolate skin, eyes wide and staring, killed by a cop’s bullet, his or his partner’s. Four years later, the
vision still haunted him. He’d never told anyone, not the Boston PD shrink they sent him to, not his partner, not
the guys he played hoop with, not even his wife. When he’d still had a wife.
“Media blitz brings out the freaks,” Miller said. “Now we gotta waste time writing up our go-round with that
three-hundred-pound sack of shit.”
“She said he’s been stalking her for a week.”
Grizzly wasn’t the Tongue Killer, but ever since the first murder two years ago violent crime against women
had increased dramatically, as if the Tongue Killer now served as a sick role model for men who thought they
had a license to batter, rape and kill women.
“Well, he got his ten minutes on CNN.” Miller turned onto a tree-lined side street and looked over, eyes
mischievous. “Good lookin babe, seemed like she was coming on to you.”
“I noticed.” He also noticed the lime-green Dodge Neon behind them, clocking the wing-mirror as the car
settled in a half-block behind them.
“So? Give her a call. She’s not married.”
“A reporter? No way.” On the job twenty years, he’d dealt with plenty of media types. Reporter or not, when
it came to women, he went with his gut. It hadn’t prevented his marriage from going in the toilet, but he knew
how to read most women. He also knew a tail when he saw one. The lime-green Neon, operated by a black
female, was still behind them, mirroring their every turn. “Someone’s following us.”
Miller’s eyes flicked to the rearview. “The Neon?”
“Yes. Can you get behind her so I can make the tag?”
“You bet.” With a gleeful expression, Miller zoomed past a Rite Aide and turned into Prescription Drive-up
at the rear of the building. Avoiding the line of cars, Miller circled the building in time to see the Neon join the
Drive-up line. He kept going and pulled up behind a row of parked cars in front of the store. Seconds later the
Neon sped past them, slowed to a crawl and stopped near the exit thirty yards away.
Frank got on his cellphone, called in the tag and got put on hold.
“Maybe she’s a secret admirer. You been playing around?”
Miller stared at him, aghast. “You shittin' me? You know what would happen if I was playing around and
Tanya found out?” He drew a finger across his throat in a slicing motion.
“The average guy thinks about sex ten times a day.”
“Not me. Get up at six, drive two kids to school, work all day and half the night, get home at ten if I’m
lucky, who’s got time to think about sex?” Miller waggled an eyebrow at him. “You best get yourself a girlfriend,
Frank.”
He refused to take the bait. He wasn’t about to discuss his love-life with Miller, or anyone else for that
matter. To most cops gossip was sport, a diversion to keep them awake on stakeouts.
DMV came back with the information, which he relayed to Miller. “The Neon’s registered to Rona Jefferson,
no wants on her, no moving violations.”
“Fuck all!”
“You know her?”
“Woman writes a column for the Clarion Call that manages to piss off half the town.” Miller grinned. “The
white half.”
“Good looking? Not that you’re interested, of course.”
“If you like barbed wire with attitude.” Miller’s grin faded. “Frank, I been a cop long enough to know that