A crowd of people gathered on the shore of the Savannah River. A body had been discovered at the water’s edge and identified as Suzanne Page, a regular at a local western hangout on Oglethorpe Street called The Cactus Lounge. Her throat had been cut, and a thorough examination revealed an unusually brutal rape. The OIC immediately radioed the station that the body had the same MO as the others.
Two officers were being anything but gentle as they pushed Barry Schorr into the interrogation room. The dusty little room was small and square, and Russ Cavella, the interrogation officer turned on a bright overhead light.
“All right, Schorr, how many more are we gonna find, huh? How many friggin’ women are we gonna find in this city that you’ve f****d and thrown away?”
“God,” Barry buried his f
