Excerpt: Fourth Time's The Charm

"… She was so afraid; her arms were too weak to lift. That she was in danger was certain, and the horrific realization dawned on her that most victims don’t fight because horror has drained every ounce of strength they might have mustered. …"

"… Gale, his first wife, looked beyond monstrous that night, he told her. His voice now dry and tight. He realized later he was looking into the face of madness unleashed and searching for release that would not be satisfied until everything in its sight was destroyed. It was the first and only time in his life he feared for his life. …"

"…Sanderson stopped and eyed Richard intently. Richard’s expression was wavering between shock and a glare. Sanderson could see he was struggling to contain his emotions of anger and fear.
“I’m sorry to be so blunt, sir, but I think you need to know just what could happen should we take this matter to the next level. And I want to you think a bit right now on whether you think we SHOULD take matter to this level.”
Sanderson didn’t take his eyes off Richard. Royal sipped his coffee, stared in professional silence at the table.
“Your wife could walk in in the next hour, late tonight, tomorrow morning, and depending on the situation, you might have a whole different problem on your hands.”
Richard was staring back at Sanderson now.
“So I want you to be sure that this is the course you want to take.”
All three men sat quietly for a beat.
“Because once the genie’s out of bottle …” Sanderson continued.
“There’s no puttin’ ’im back,” Royal answered then lifted his eyes toward Richard.
Richard looked at Sanderson, then Royal, then back at Sanderson, then made his decision.
“Put the track on, and you have my permission to get the cell phone conversations,” he said quietly. …"

A little bit about the thug:
"… People could not appreciate what he did for society, how he and his colleagues served as a sort of unseen force cleaning up the messes their affiliates had made. He never criticized them for such failings. In any operation, mistakes will be made but in the line of business in which he offered his services there wasn’t the sloppy tolerance that those in “legitimate” society accepted: defective merchandise, long lines in the customer service, unqualified bosses. No, in his world, there was no room for shoddy workmanship and wrong guesses. And there few mistakes did not require a heavy price. Maybe if you gave a wrong address, you’d get a hard slap or whack to the head. But for the big mistakes, there was only one response, one remedy. And he and Max both knew what it was. …"

And about our man in blue, actually he's a detective so he's not in uniform:
"… When he got back to the precinct, Sgt. Andrew Sanderson, unclipped his gun, set his briefcase on the desk and opened it, then sat at his desk. Royal sat at the desk beside him and both men set about their work, decideding quickly who should contact whom, who should do what. They were seasoned professionals, neither of them clamoring for the glory parts because they both knew that in the long run in these cases there were few glory parts. Twice in his work was he ever able to bring a happy ending to cases like this — not counting the false alarms. If this was a legitimate MP, he knew that this was going to be a tough case. But then Sanderson had picked this line of work and after 25 years on the force he still held the belief that he was doing what all police officers are supposed to do: To protect and to serve. More often it was to serve. He’d learned there were few chances to protect. …"

"… Richard pressed the “end” button, and the phone display went dark. Stuart turned his handset off as well. Silence spread through the room. Richard sat slowly on the arm of the sofa, and a numbness welled up from inside. That’s the best he could have described it, but he didn’t feel like describing it. He just wanted to go blank, mind, body and soul. Shock had shoved out all ability to feel pain or horror, but he sensed them pawing at him from the edges. He knew it was only a matter of time before they would get in, and that he would then need to do what you did at such times.
But the problem was he didn’t know what to do. Yes, he was glad Stuart was here, but he didn’t even know what he should have Stuart do. He knew of only one person who would know what to do, and that person was the last person right now who could tell him what to do: Calendra. …"