Night Kills by John Lutz

didn’t have an army.
    Quinn, standing a few feet away with Fedderman, gnawed his lower lip as he stared down at the handless severed arm. It had obviously been in the water a long time. He glanced around, squinting in the early afternoon sunlight. They were near Sutton Place, home of some of the most expensive real estate in New York. It wasn’t likely the arm belonged to any of the neighbors. A missing arm in Sutton Place wasn’t the sort of thing to go unreported.
    The arm had been spotted by a Mrs. Grace Oliphant, while walking her Yorkshire terrier, Clipper. She’d noticed something pale snagged on some deadwood that had drifted up against the bank and thought at first it was a large, dead fish. She skirted a black iron fence and moved closer. Clipper began barking frantically, and she wasn’t so sure she was looking at a dead fish. It was the forty-five-degree crook in the blanched object that made her peer more intensely and with fearful curiosity. There was something about the thing, something that reminded her of…an elbow.
    Mrs. Oliphant straightened up immediately and backed away, nauseated, tugging at the leash to get Clipper away from the dreadful thing. The arm. It was no wonder the dog had been barking so frantically. He must have picked up the terrible scent, realized before she did what they were looking at. Yorkies were so smart.
    She gave the leash a firm yank, momentarily choking off Clipper’s shrill barking, then looked him in the eye and shushed him so he’d stay quiet while she used her cell phone to call the police.
    The uniforms who’d arrived first knew immediately they were looking at a human arm that had been severed at the elbow. Its hand had been cut off at the wrist. One of the cops picked up a branch and edged the arm closer to the concrete wall where the water lapped, then gingerly inched it up and over and onto the bricks. He didn’t like touching it, even with a branch, but he knew he had to move it before it broke free from where it was snagged and floated away, or maybe sank.
    The water had blanched away most of the color, leaving the arm a dull white. The uniforms could see how the woman who’d called thought at first she’d been looking at a dead fish. There was some obvious damage from what lived in the river nibbling at the arm. Gleaming white bone showed beneath flaps of skin at both ends.
    Both cops knew about the Torso Murders and recognized the possible significance of the arm. The police investigated weird things found in New York rivers almost every week, and those were only the ones that were reported. Still, human remains…and with the sicko on the loose killing and cutting up his victims…it was a situation that called for diligence.
    One of the uniforms had listened to Grace Oliphant’s story and taken notes, while his partner called their lieutenant. Up the bureaucratic chain the information went, but in a way tightly controlled. Within fifteen minutes, Renz had called Quinn.
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    â€œRight or left arm?” Quinn asked Nift.
    â€œDoes it matter?”
    â€œIt matters because I asked you,” Quinn said in a flat voice that had unnerved hundreds if not thousands of suspects.
    It didn’t seem to unnerve Nift, armored as he was by ego. Still, he decided it was time to be businesslike. He pressed a forefinger to the side of his chin, striking a thoughtful pose, as he shifted slightly to peer at both ends of the arm. “I’d guess left, but I can’t tell you for sure till we get this to the morgue and examine it more closely.”
    â€œHow long’s it been in the water?”
    â€œI can only guess, but I’d say about a month.”
    Quinn figured it would belong to the first victim, if it was an arm from one of the mystery torsos. It almost had to be, he figured. Even in New York, it wasn’t every day that the odd severed limb turned up. “Can you match it with either of the