Now or Never Read Free

was huge, square and old-fashioned, with the original black-and-white-tiled floor, a fireplace with a cast-iron grate, a mahogany-paneled tub big enough for a giant, and a Victorian water closet with a blue-flowered bowl and a pull chain. The old marble washstand was big enough for a man to splash around in and it made up for the lack of counter space to put his stuff. He liked it that way.
    From the bathroom he walked back through the hall. A Nautilus machine stood incongruously next to the ebony grand piano in what had once been the elegant drawing room of a rich nineteenth-century Boston lady. The Nautilus was his next chore, but first he needed a cup of coffee.
    There was nothing old-fashioned about Harry’s kitchen—it was all black granite and brushed steel, but these days he never seemed to find the time to cook or entertain. The coffee machine was the only piece of kitchen equipment that ever got a workout. Now it gurgled and coughed, and the red digital timer blinked, announcing it was brewed. Harry thought impatiently that his life was ruled by digital timers; even his watch had one.
    He filled a plain white mug with coffee, spooned in two sugars and was on his way to the Nautilus when the phone rang.
    His eyebrows lifted resignedly as he answered it. At 5:10 A.M. it could only mean trouble.
    “What happened, Prof? Squeeze miss the alarm button this morning?”
    Harry took a sip of the hot coffee. It was Carlo Rossetti, his partner on the force and his buddy. “He didn’t go for the extra five minutes. I guess he just wanted up and out.”
    “Sorry to call so early, but I knew you’d want to know right away. There’s been another one, a young woman raped and stabbed. Only this one didn’t die. At least not yet. She’s in Mass General. It’s pretty much touch and go.”
    Harry glanced quickly at the digital watch that had irritated him only a few moments ago. “I’ll meet you there. Tell the chief we’re on our way. Is she conscious? Has she said anything yet?”
    “Not that I know of. I just got here myself. The night shift was having a slow one when the call came in at aboutthree A.M. A couple of fishermen found her on the beach near Rockport. The emergency rescue squad helicoptered her down from there. The duty officer was McMahan. He and Gavel are over there now, but this is our baby, Harry. I knew you’d want in on it.”
    Harry remembered the brutally mutilated young bodies of the two previous victims. “I’ll be there in ten,” he said grimly.
    There was no time for a shower or even to brush his teeth. He flung cold water on his face, rinsed his mouth with Listerine, threw on jeans, a denim shirt and an old black leather bomber jacket, and whistled for the dog. In three minutes flat he was out the door.
    Harry still hadn’t gotten over his passion for fast cars. The souped-up 1969 E-type Jaguar in British racing green was parked in his usual spot across the road. The dog hunkered down on the beautiful tan coach-hide-leather backseat, and a minute later they were speeding out of Louisburg Square to the hospital.

3
    M ASSACHUSETTS G ENERAL WAS a massive limestone block set back from a busy avenue. Traffic rattled around it, and the morning air vibrated with the perpetual wail of sirens from ambulances and emergency rescue-squad fire engines and the clatter of rotor blades as helicopters landed and took off from the roof.
    Harry swung into a parking spot in the reserved zone. He left the back windows open a crack for the dog, hurled himself through the doors of Emergency and collided with a white-coated doctor.
    “My, my, you’re in a hurry this morning, detective,” the doctor said mildly, adjusting his horn-rimmed eyeglasses.
    Still running, Harry threw an apologetic glance over his shoulder. “Sorry, doc. Oh, hi—it’s you, Dr. Blake. Excuse me, I’m in a hell of a rush.”
    The doctor shook his head, smiling. “Never saw you when you weren’t,” he called. “Anything I can do to