Ballister noticed Dutton's intense focus as he read the hardback in his hand. Curious, he wondered, "What's that?"

"The Stranger Beside Me," Dutton answered nonchalant.

"Ann Rule's bio about Ted Bundy?" Ballister responded more so in the form of a question than a comment.

I'm trying to get a grip on what makes a clock like Karl Adler tick. It's called data gathering," Dutton stated. He closed the book and tossed it on top of his desk. Then, glancing at his partner said, "We know Adler has a distinct pattern in how he selects his victims, the locations of his attacks, and his methods."

"We also know he is very unassuming with a face that blends in with the crowd. That makes his victims even less suspicious of him before he strikes," Ballister noted.

"And, Adler has above-average intelligence," Dutton stated.

Ballister stirred his java with a spoon and said, "Those bones we discovered at Murray Cotton's farm have become a big lead in this case."

"So have Adler's poor upbringing, anti-social childhood, and his penchant for being an arsonist. Those boys in Forensics did us a major favor when they matched Adler's prints, found at the Gooseneck Bar fire, with his Army records and turned us onto our killer's name," Dutton remarked.

Dutton flipped on his MacIntosh. He liked the computer's 5K display and sharp image. A message soon appeared that read:

"Shame generalized punishment is viewed so unfortunate. I have taken one in your honor. You are an avid deer hunter. Perhaps a crossbow to the head, your favorite weapon to slay your hapless target with, is in order for the unfortune victim? You too!"

Dutton knew the sender taunted him. A contemporary creature of the modern era, Adler's emails arrived on Dutton's computer with regularity. Dutton then forwarded them up the chain and to the brainiacs in IT. So far, no hits or traces had been successful. Full of consternation, the scene frustrated Dutton all the more, especially since he had not already captured the psycho behind them.

Adler's email afforded Dutton another window of opportunity. The detective knew he had to act with haste before another corpse littered his doorstep. This was Adler's challenge. His methodology lacked a primitive approach.

In the parking lot, Ballister asked, "Where to?"

Only one case on his mind, Dutton replied, "To stop a murder."

"Adler never takes long," Ballister said.

Surrounded by white-washed picket fences, the resort was beautiful. Karl Adler intended to ruin the idyllic locale forever. He disdained the manor's frilled curtains and reinforced masonry walls cemented together with mortar. But, the lone peach tree in the middle of a quaint arcadian garden danced on his last nerve the most.

Adler struck a match and lit the in-wall fireplace centered in a coursed brickwork chimney breast. He spread sheets of newspapers across the parquet floor of the spacious den. Its chevron pattern gave a long line of arrows appearance.

The dominant obsession that gripped the town's dread was Adler failed to possess human qualities. The sensational details of his macabre murders created ghastly effects. Adler placed Toby Robinette on the newspapers.

With an artistic notion for fine anatomy, the dissection of the town's Vice Mayor would commence. Adler's radiance appreciation displayed in the manner in which he disposed his victim's corpse.

Adler cast his eyes around the room. He knew the organized layout of everything contained inside the four walls. He'd been there many times before. Adler reached up on a butcher-block worktable for his dramatic exhibition of honed knives. Each sharpened to a gleaned perfection, but avoided analyzing the guinea pig before him.

Long, frightful, moments passed. Finally, Karl Adler fixed his blank stare on his sacrifice.