As we stepped through the threshold to an abandoned house on Pine Street, the dried blood splatter immediately indicated that Russian Jack had struck again.
Despite the dead ends, my partner proved increasingly uneasy about the investigation. I enjoyed the chase, of course.
That’s why I worked so hard to become a detective. That’s why I had moved from Fairbanks to Anchorage. The Russian Jack case was my first major assignment.
“Did you know only ten officers from the Anchorage Police Department have died in the line of duty?” my partner asked as he knelt to inspect the body.
I nodded and crouched on the opposite side of the corpse.
He suddenly pointed his revolver directly at my face.
“Looks like Russian Jack is about to make that eleven.”