and the red nose was the flame. The longer the candle burns, the shorter the candle gets. This would be the next riddle, because the candle was burning for Murphy, and time was running out. Too bad Murphyâs too stupid to figure it out, he thought.
Murphy was supposed to have caught on when they killed the kid along the river by Murphyâs cabin, but Murphy hadnât reacted like they thought he would. Eddie had watched from a distance as Murphy and that big partner of his walked around the body, giving orders and looking all smug, with not one tear or look of anger or anything. Murphy hadnât even seemed to notice that the kid was cut up just like Bobby had done to him a while back. Damn near cut Murphyâs head off , Eddie thought. Too bad Murphy didnât die when Bobby cut him.
So it was Murphyâs fault that three more kids had died, Murphyâs fault he had to up the ante. If Murphy had paid attention to the notes, maybe they wouldnât have killed the kids. But he had to admit, âThe Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoeâ was the perfect rhyme for the three brats heâd killed that late afternoon. She had so many kids she didnât know what to do, Eddie thought. Well, I knew what to do. Now she wonât have to worry no more.
In a way, Eddie was sorry the mother wasnât home when theyâd done the kids. His own mother had run off and left him and Bobby when he was too little to know what was going on. Everything the preacher had done to him and Bobby was her fault. Yeah, he would have done the mom with the kids if sheâd been home. But, what the hell, maybe theyâd be back for her later. Right now he had things to do. Someone else was about to have a very bad day. Too bad it wouldnât be Susan Summers. She would have to wait.
C HAPTER E LEVEN
So many children
There will be more
Â
The words were scrawled on the wall over one of the twin beds; the blood, still wet, was an obscene mockery of the innocent lives it had been taken from.
âWhat does it mean?â Jack asked in a whisper, not really expecting an answer.
The two detectives stood just inside the doorway of what would have been a typical kidâs bedroom, with brightly colored clothing, tattered jeans, and scuffed tennis shoes scattered around the floor along with a mishmash of comic books, schoolbooks, and toys. But this room had been transformed by sprays of dark blood clinging to the walls, the curtains, the well-worn carpet, and what they saw was right out of a horror movie.
There were two twin beds in the little room. Jack guessed that one bed belonged to the little girl and the other was shared by the boys. The three little bodies lay side by side on one bed, posed in death by the killer, as if they were laid out for a wake. Little arms were crossed over unmoving chests, skinny legs straightened with toes pointed skyward, and each head brutally removed. The heads had been carefully arranged on one pillow at the foot of the bed, the faces wiped clean of blood so that the expression of fear and pain was clearly visible in their features. A blanket had been pulled up over the bodies when the mother had found them, and according to the crime scene guys, she had pulled this off in her panic. It lay on the floor beside the bed now, waiting to be methodically documented, photographed, and collected.
âChrist almighty,â Liddell muttered, and covering his mouth, he fled from the room.
Jack surveyed the room. It was a bloody mess. Curtains, carpeting, mattress, pillows, ceiling, and walls all stained with sprays of blood. It was as if these children had been put through a shredder. He didnât have the stomach to look closely at all of their wounds, but the on-scene deputy coroner said they all were killed by repeated cuts and stab wounds from something sharp and heavy and long, like a sword or a machete. Jack could see the little girlâJenny was her nameâhad cuts on the
Murphy was supposed to have caught on when they killed the kid along the river by Murphyâs cabin, but Murphy hadnât reacted like they thought he would. Eddie had watched from a distance as Murphy and that big partner of his walked around the body, giving orders and looking all smug, with not one tear or look of anger or anything. Murphy hadnât even seemed to notice that the kid was cut up just like Bobby had done to him a while back. Damn near cut Murphyâs head off , Eddie thought. Too bad Murphy didnât die when Bobby cut him.
So it was Murphyâs fault that three more kids had died, Murphyâs fault he had to up the ante. If Murphy had paid attention to the notes, maybe they wouldnât have killed the kids. But he had to admit, âThe Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoeâ was the perfect rhyme for the three brats heâd killed that late afternoon. She had so many kids she didnât know what to do, Eddie thought. Well, I knew what to do. Now she wonât have to worry no more.
In a way, Eddie was sorry the mother wasnât home when theyâd done the kids. His own mother had run off and left him and Bobby when he was too little to know what was going on. Everything the preacher had done to him and Bobby was her fault. Yeah, he would have done the mom with the kids if sheâd been home. But, what the hell, maybe theyâd be back for her later. Right now he had things to do. Someone else was about to have a very bad day. Too bad it wouldnât be Susan Summers. She would have to wait.
C HAPTER E LEVEN
So many children
There will be more
Â
The words were scrawled on the wall over one of the twin beds; the blood, still wet, was an obscene mockery of the innocent lives it had been taken from.
âWhat does it mean?â Jack asked in a whisper, not really expecting an answer.
The two detectives stood just inside the doorway of what would have been a typical kidâs bedroom, with brightly colored clothing, tattered jeans, and scuffed tennis shoes scattered around the floor along with a mishmash of comic books, schoolbooks, and toys. But this room had been transformed by sprays of dark blood clinging to the walls, the curtains, the well-worn carpet, and what they saw was right out of a horror movie.
There were two twin beds in the little room. Jack guessed that one bed belonged to the little girl and the other was shared by the boys. The three little bodies lay side by side on one bed, posed in death by the killer, as if they were laid out for a wake. Little arms were crossed over unmoving chests, skinny legs straightened with toes pointed skyward, and each head brutally removed. The heads had been carefully arranged on one pillow at the foot of the bed, the faces wiped clean of blood so that the expression of fear and pain was clearly visible in their features. A blanket had been pulled up over the bodies when the mother had found them, and according to the crime scene guys, she had pulled this off in her panic. It lay on the floor beside the bed now, waiting to be methodically documented, photographed, and collected.
âChrist almighty,â Liddell muttered, and covering his mouth, he fled from the room.
Jack surveyed the room. It was a bloody mess. Curtains, carpeting, mattress, pillows, ceiling, and walls all stained with sprays of blood. It was as if these children had been put through a shredder. He didnât have the stomach to look closely at all of their wounds, but the on-scene deputy coroner said they all were killed by repeated cuts and stab wounds from something sharp and heavy and long, like a sword or a machete. Jack could see the little girlâJenny was her nameâhad cuts on the
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