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the
sexual assault, it was the same signature he had seen over and over again. The “Pine
Street Slasher” who had murdered fifteen gay men between the summers of ’90 and
’95. The sadistic butcher they called the “Chaperone” who had raped and
vivisected young women and their boyfriends between ’95 and ’99. And now the
killer who beat, stabbed, and partially cannibalized six entire families who
the press had dubbed the “Family Man.”
    Could they all be the same man?
    Ifthis new information was correct, they were all the work of one psychopath. The same
monster shot little Mark Cozen with a shotgun at point blank range. The same
sick fucker who hacked little Jennie Cozen to pieces while her mother and
father watched then raped and vivisected Linda Cozen and ate her alive.
    The crime scene was scattered with
enough physical evidence for a dozen convictions. Footprints, teeth
impressions, semen, pubic hair, even bloody fingerprints on the murder weapon
still sticking out from what was left of Mrs. Cozen’s chest. And he had a
witness, a survivor, who could not only give a description of the murderer but
the killer’s name as well . . . Malcolm Davis. This case was solved, and “Tight Ass” Titus Baltimore was certain that
he was about to be a hero.
    “How can you be sure it was him? I mean, you
hadn’t seen him in fifteen years before tonight?”
    “We were best friends in high school. I remember
him.”
    “Well, you’ll excuse me for saying this,”
Detective Baltimore surveyed the carnage that surrounded him, “but this doesn’t
look too friendly.”
    “We had a falling out. Years ago. Back in high
school.” Reed was in shock. The EMS technicians were trying to explain to him
why they couldn’t tape his shattered ribs while they bandaged his busted nose
in place and pumped him full of painkillers. Detective Baltimore was trying to
pump him for details.
    “So he kills your family but leaves you alive?
Did he say anything to you? Besides confessing to having killed all those
people?”
    “He told me that I’m the only one he’d let catch
him. He told me not to get the cops involved because they couldn’t stop him.
That it was just between him and me.”
    “Well, like it or not, we’re involved and we’re
going to catch this bastard. I promise you. There will be justice for your
family.”
    Detective Baltimore was the worst kind of
asshole, the kind that knows he’s a little shit but doesn’t care. He could see
that Reed didn’t trust him. That was going to be an obstacle. If he couldn’t
get Reed to trust him, getting information from him would be difficult.
    Titus was used to distrust. He dealt
with it every day on the job. There was too much swagger about him. His clothes
looked too expensive and he was too young and cocky. To most people he looked
like a con man, a politician, or a stand-up comedian rather than a cop. He was
a pretty boy, and it was obvious that Reed hated pretty boys, especially pretty
boys with authority. But Titus didn’t care. He didn’t care that Reed’s entire
life had been ruthlessly undone. He was only interested in making a name for
himself in the department by solving the crime of the century. Reed knew it and
Detective Baltimore knew he knew it and didn’t give two shits.
    “Okay, do you mind if we go over the whole
sequence of events step-by-step so I can get it clear in my head?”
    “Yes, I do mind! My family is dead! Fuck your
report. Just go catch that bastard!” Reed nearly passed out from the exertion
of screaming. Titus leaned forward to catch him but Reed shrugged him off then
winced and swooned again.
    “Jesus! My fucking ribs.” His eyes
looked dazed and unfocused. He blinked several times and shook his head as he
doubled over and held his ribs with both arms. Titus was certain the man was
about to either lose consciousness or lose his dinner. He had to lean on one of
the EMTs to keep from falling off the gurney into a pool of his