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closed town hall and opened the front door with his key. He flicked on the hallway lights and opened the door on the right with his name stenciled on it. He went to his desk and sat. It was emotionally draining to accept the horror of the murdered child and his friend. It was surreal, it could not have happened, but he knew it did.
    Charles’s first priority right now was to notify Mike Collins, then make a call to Andy’s only family, his girlfriend, April. Murphy leaned back in his chair with his feet upon the cluttered desk and stared at the chipped ceiling paint. He struggled for a sincere way to express his hurt…a hurt he knew was absolutely nil compared to the pain the Collins’s were about to endure.
    There was no easy way to tell Michael Collins his baby daughter had been torn to shreds. Murphy was sure the news of the deaths had spread throughout the town, but he hoped they’d been suppressed long enough so he could break it to the Collins family. He dialed the phone, still contemplating the words he would utter when a young voice spoke into the receiver.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œThis is Chief Murphy, is this Mark?”
    â€œHave you found Cathy?” Mark asked without answering.
    Murphy almost whispered, “is your father home?”
    Mark placed the phone down and shortly Mike Collins was on the phone, as excited as his son. “Did you find her, Chief?”
    â€œMike…” Charles hesitated and was sorry he did. He knew that split second of indecision alerted Mike to disaster. “Yes, we found her.”
    His voice could no longer offer hope or good news. The child was dead and there was no easy way to tell the father. The phone was silent for a few moments then Mike returned with faint sniffles and a crack in his voice.
    â€œShe’s dead?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Mike. I did not know how to tell you. I called before you heard it from somewhere else.”
    â€œHow…?”
    â€œThe doc did an examination this afternoon and -”
    â€œThis afternoon…” interrupted Mike angrily. “How long have you had her?”
    â€œWe found her this morning after we found Andy’s body.”
    â€œAndy? Andy is dead also?”
    â€œBoth were found on the old Johnson place, we have no idea how they got there or who did it. The doc seems to believe it was a large animal.”
    More silence followed by sobs.
    â€œI’m sorry, Chief. I didn’t realize.”
    â€œI’m the one who is sorry, Mike,” Murphy whispered into the phone.
    â€œThank you for calling. I should be the one to tell my family.”
    Murphy hung up thinking Mike had more courage than he would have at a moment like that. He stood and stretched, flicked off the office lights and walked out onto the empty sidewalk.

Chapter Twelve

    Father Ahern leaned against one of the many trees lining the cornfield and adjusted his collar against the oncoming chill. Not necessarily from the night air but from the evil it contained, a sensation raising the neatly cropped hair on the back of his neck.
    He began to feel this night’s search would also prove fruitless and decided to return to the rectory. Mrs. Donnelly would surely be surprised at his earlier than usual return. He heard the noise when making his way through the underbrush back to the road.
    â€œSaints protect us,” he whispered, making the sign of the cross. Glancing back to the cornfield, he tried to make out the direction of the sound. It came again, nearer, and his ears strained to place it. He focused his senses on the field before him, remaining silent within the underbrush. He contemplated if he should remain or run like the wind back to the rectory but decided caution was the correct procedure, not panic.
    Listening intently after each step, he tried to pinpoint the direction of the sound. God only knew how many nights he had walked this forest but he suddenly realized how alone and