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head.
        His eyes suddenly darted round the darkened landing, flitting from door to door. Fear and anger vied for control of his emotions. He slowly pushed open the door to the fourth room.
        From her position in the hall, Maureen Bayliss heard her husband scream. A sound which was rapidly choked away as he vomited.
        She called his name and raced up the stairs taking them two at a time. As she reached the landing, he staggered drunkenly from the room, waving her back. His face was the colour of cream cheese and thick mucous was dribbling down his chin.
        'Jack,' she said, terrified.
        'Call the police,' he gasped, struggling for breath.
        'What is it?'
        'Do it,' he roared at her, dropping to his knees, his entire body shaking. He tried to control his heaving stomach but, as the door swung back gently on its hinges once more, he couldn't. For although he had his back to the horror he had discovered, the thought alone was enough to make him throw up again. He reached back and slammed the door shut, listening as his wife dialled 999 and babbled out her message. He heard her put the receiver down and then he fainted.
        
***
        
        Sergeant Vic Hayes stood in the bathroom of the Mackenzie house and drank down another tumbler full of water. He stood against the sink for a moment, regaining his composure, then, taking one last mouthful of water, he walked back into the bedroom.
        At fifty-two, and with more than thirty years experience on the force, he had seen some sights. Road accidents, industrial accidents, baby batterings. But never anything like this and in Medworth, of all places. He'd been a sergeant here for more than fifteen years and there hadn't been anything worse than a bad case of G.B.H. in all that time. The offender was doing five to ten in Strangeways; Hayes had given evidence at the trial. The man had attacked his girlfriend's father with a spanner. Made a right mess of his face too.
        But never anything like this today.
        He entered the bedroom and saw Doctor John Kirby leaning over the first of the bodies, just as he had been doing when Hayes had left the room. Hayes didn't care for Kirby much. He was good at his job, but a bit of an arrogant little bastard. He'd come straight from medical school to his position as Medworth G.P. and he also doubled as Police doctor. Not that his services had been needed until now.
        Two ambulancemen stood by the door with a stretcher, their eyes looking at the floor. In fact, looking at anything other than at what Kirby had at his feet.
        Hayes took a deep breath and leaned over him.
        'Whoever did this was a very strong man,' said Kirby, matter of factly. 'It's difficult to tell of course without an autopsy, but, I'd say these cuts are nine or ten inches deep.' He pointed to the throat. 'This particular blow practically severed the head.'
        'And the little girl?' asked Hayes, not daring to look behind him. Lying beside the open door was the body of Michelle Mackenzie, her tiny form disfigured by a dozen wounds.
        Kirby nodded. 'The injuries are the same, so is the disfigurement.' He stroked his chin thoughtfully. 'Strange.'
        Hayes nodded. He knew of which 'disfigurement' Kirby spoke and it was that final touch of horror which had forced him out of the room when he had first seen the two bodies.
        Both had had their eyes torn out.
        'As I said before,' said Kirby, 'without an autopsy it's difficult to give precise details, but from the scratch marks on both of their faces and…'
        Hayes cut him short, 'All right, doc. I'll wait for the reports.' He walked out, leaving the ambulancemen to load the bodies onto their stretchers. Kirby followed them out. Hayes watched him leave. He stood on the deserted landing for a moment then wearily made his way down to the living room. Through the open front door he saw the two bodies loaded