“To hell with Donovan. I’ll go over his head to the assistant chief if I have to.”

“The assistant chief hates you too.”

“Somebody on the command staff has to be smart enough to realize that we need to put together a task force to catch this psycho before he starts getting serious.”

Gaudet drained the rest of his beer. “Killing seven sisters ain’t serious enough for you? You waiting for him to kill a white woman?”

“At least we’d get our task force.”

“You racist motherfucker.”

“You know I don’t give a shit what color they are,” Murphy said, “but I’m telling you, this guy is just getting warmed up.”

The bartender, an off-duty Fourth District cop, set a fresh pair of longnecks down in front of them.

Gaudet took a gulp from his right away. “How the hell could you possibly know what he’s going to do?”

“I study these guys. I read about them. More times than not, their behavior follows a pattern. This guy’s attacks are starting to come more frequently and they’re getting more violent.”

“The rank is not going to give you a task force. Period.”

“Then they’re letting women get killed to save money.”

“It’s not just about the money,” Gaudet said.

“It’s always about the money.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s about that too, but it’s also about not wanting to look bad. Think about what happened in Baton Rouge.”

“Derrick Todd Lee?”

Gaudet nodded. “The police up there put together a high-profile task force that put out the wrong suspect and vehicle descriptions. Then the cops wasted months swabbing DNA from a couple thousand white guys driving pickup trucks.”

“Meanwhile women were still dying.”