The huge search team swept across town in a synchopated northern direction that disturbed the regular flow of the morning. The ferocious sounds of angry police sirens wailed long and loud. Karl Adler held them in a public display of outrage.

Sensing the commotion, Dutton said, "He's in control now."

Smooth car tires ripped the road surface. The noise fit well with all else that happened.

A frown crossed Dutton's face, "However this chase turns out, Adler's in his finest hour. We are captured in the maniac's moment."

Ballister asked, "Since Adler has no human emotions are we sure we're not being transported to some far distant planet, or universe, and aren't looking for some intergalatic jovian creature?"

"One thing's for sure," Dutton responded, "Adler is definately not optimistic, nor is his outlook towards the living bright. He is a Manifestor and I am a Generator."

"You do have an uncanny ability to take other peoples' energy and lead them where they need to go," Ballister agreed.

"If you believe in Human Design," Dutton scoffed.

"It's what makes up your psychology," Ballister stated.

Dark humor spread rampant among the detectives assigned to the Adler case. The macabre provided a means to help keep them going through the most difficult and gruesome crime scenes they encountered.

A bluish-grey fog settled over McGruder Park, but enough visibility remained for a search. A central attraction for the city, the park contained a popular man-made bass fishing lake that awarded opportunities for tournaments and cash prizes.

Dense foliage overgrew the area. Perhaps the searchers would find Vice Mayor Toby Robinette's remains in the jungly habitat? That's where Adler's emailed message to Dutton's computer claimed he trashed them.

The car's police radio cackled, "All units, 10-54 south entrance."

Dutton responded, "10-17."

He looked at Ballister behind the wheel. Ballister cruised left through the gardener's entrance at the north end of the park and meandered to their destination.

"Adler wouldn't make it that easy for us to find the body. Would he?" A puzzled Ballister wondered.

Dutton noticed several members of the team looked mortified. Wide-eyed, and furrowed-browed, their mouths sagged with twisted curves. Small beads of sweat permeated their foreheads.

Body recoveries nothing new to the seasoned Dutton, he feared this one would make a lasting impression on his young partner. One that could well stay with him for the rest of his life.

"I don't think Adler is much more than a rakshasa," he said, "I wonder if the vermin torments lost souls in hell?"

"I know Adler's filled with an unsatiable lust for human blood. But, can he change physical forms?" Ballister wondered. "Maybe that's why we've had so many problems bringing him down?"

Several parcels wrapped in crumpled newspapers littered the slope of the park that provided expansive views of the city's rolling hills. Frequent visitors walked pets, strolled the butte, and lived a quiet, peaceful, existence there. Dutton knew from past experiences McGruder Park was locked for safety purposes at the witching hour of midnight.

Upon noticing the newspaper droppings, Ballister asked, "What's this? Adler's idea of art?"

"Go ahead. Unwrap any of them," Dutton responded.

Ballister reached down and retrieved a large, round offering. They lay there in a variety of sizes.

"It's all mere meat to Adler," Dutton stated.

Ballister carefully unwrapped the ball of newspaper in his hand. He exclaimed, "Half a head! What the freak! That demented crackbrain sliced Robinette's head in two!"

Dutton remained quiet.

A single eyeball stared back at Ballister. He asked, "How can you stand always being correctamundo about Adler? All the frigging time!" Ballister spun the skull fragment around to face Dutton and said, "It's like the two of you are one?"