The Frenzy War Read Online Free Page A

unblinking eyes were completely brown except for their pupils.
Like a dog’s,
he thought.
    â€œWhat the hell?” Karol said beside him.
    A sick feeling grew in the pit of Willy’s stomach. He circled the corpse and stood straddling it. Sneakers, carpenter’s pants, a football jersey—all soaking in blood. Seeing the bulge of a wallet in a back pocket, he bent over and removed it. He parted the leather and examined the photo ID, which showed a handsome boy with curly hair matching that on the head staring back at him.
    â€œJason Lourdes.” Willy did some quick math. “Age eighteen. Queens.”
    Karol pointed at the corpse’s neck stump. “That’s the cleanest wound I’ve ever seen.”
    â€œLike it was made by a sword.” Willy took out his cell phone and struck auto dial.
    â€œLieutenant Landry,” a voice said after the second ring.
    â€œIt’s Willy. I’m over at Synful Reading on St. Mark’s. The bad news is we got a headless stiff.”
    â€œAh,
shit,”
Landry said in a low voice. “What’s the good news?”
    â€œThe head’s right here.”
    Landry released an audible sigh.
    â€œThe vic’s only eighteen. Someone cut off his head, possibly with a sword.”
    â€œPlease tell me that’s the worst of it.”
    â€œWitnesses say a young woman got snatched too. We have to ID her. I need you to find the contact info for Angela Domini’s brothers and get them down here.”
    â€œOh, shit,” the PO said behind Willy, who shot him a disapproving look.
    â€œCopy that,” Landry said.
    Willy read the address on Jason Lourdes’s ID, and Landry hung up. Willy looked at Karol. “The Dominis own a funeral home too. At least they did when we shut down the previous investigation.”
    The bells on the door chimed as Hector Rodriguez from CSU entered with Suzie Quarrel, a member of his team. They wore blue jumpsuits with yellow rubber boots and gloves, and Suzie had dyed her razor-sharp hair purple.
    â€œSomebody call for Rodriguez’s Cleaning Service?” Hector’s mustache undulated as he spoke. “Oh,
madre.”
    â€œBag it up,” Willy said. “Everyone in the store is forbidden to discuss this with anyone but a superior officer.”
    â€œWhy are you looking at me?” the PO said.
    Willy turned to Karol. “You want to interview the witnesses?”

    Sitting at his desk in the K-9 Unit, located at Floyd Bennett Field, where NYPD maintained its Aviation and Emergency Services units, Captain Anthony Mace filled out an online requisition for dog food.
    Ever since being removed from Homicide South in the wake of the Manhattan Werewolf killings, which he had been unable to solve to the satisfaction of his superiors, Mace had been relegated to pushing paper in one of the most unglamorous units in the department, his rank largely meaningless, with no chance of escape or promotion. He followed the same routine day after day, scheduling training sessions, assigning new dogs to human partners, and acting like a bottom level administrator in any bureaucracy.In the span of one case, he had gone from being a celebrity cop with a promising future to a forgotten soldier gathering dust in an office. Now technically part of the transit police, he looked forward to retiring in two years.
    His position did have its benefits, though: the phone never rang in the middle of the night; his hours never varied; his wife, Cheryl, didn’t worry he might be killed in the line of duty; he didn’t agonize about departmental politics, losing the life of a detective under his supervision, or dealing with life-or-death situations; and he was able to spend plenty of time with Cheryl and their daughter, Patty, in their Bay Ridge home. All he had to do was survive the boredom of the next two years without going insane, and he’d be free to pursue other interests while collecting his