Boston, Massachusetts, Friday…

Denise Rivera looked around the office that Friday afternoon.

"Where's Chris?" she asked Harry Carson.

"I haven't seen him, Captain. He's usually early."

Denise thought a moment. She had given Chris the OK to keep the John Doe case on the back burner, primarily on her sister's urging. Frank Sweeney was clearly an SOB who treated his wife horribly, yet Denise couldn't imagine him doing anything crooked. However sister Patricia knew the guy well, so that was that. It also kept Chris happy and motivated enough to do his other work. Let's face it. This job is usually pretty boring. She returned to her office. On a whim, she dialed Chris' home phone. If you're sleeping off a binge, I'll be very upset. The phone rang and rang. Funny, no video-mail. Either he's sleeping and won't answer, or he left without turning on the video-mail feature.She hung up and dialed Marcia King.

"Marcia, dispatch a black and white to Chris' apartment. Something a little strange is going on."

A half hour later the black and white reported back. The patrolman was clearly agitated.

"Denise, something's really wrong here. It looks like the whole side of the apartment facing the stairs was used for target practice. The door's busted open, like with a ram."

"Any sign of Tanner?"

"Tanner isn't here but there's a fair amount of blood on the floor. The back window is wide open and the fire escape is down. Maybe he got out that way. What's going on? This looks like a mob or gang hit."