Dutton studied the crime scene in deeper depth. With painstaking effort, he collected each evidence fragment he found, all the while feeling he closed in on his prey. Dutton tried to organize everything he knew, or thought he understood, about the Adler investigation. The question remained how to stop the onslaught the local paper screamed bold-printed headlines about on a daily basis. The butcher of Sondra Schmidt would be no exception.

"Figuring out when someone is turning dangerous ought to be the first thing you do," Dutton stated. He struggled to comprehend why none of Adler's victims seemed to grasp that concept.

"So true, especially in our line of work," Ballister replied.

Ten o ' clock without his morning java left Dutton in a scowl. Adler had struck in a busy pub. Dutton knew there had to be a coincidence between the packed bar and Adler's known history of boyhood isolation. The possibilities disturbed Dutton but he wouldn't settle on premature theories or jump to any conclusions. The more raw data Dutton could collect the more information it would provide him.

The concrete beneath them was as damp as if it had just rained. In an instant, Dutton knew what the sticky substance was and who it once flowed through. Fog rolled in thicker as minutes wore by. Dutton would feel better once he settled this untimely affair.

Cucumber cool, Dutton pocketed a bauble. He said, "Never in a hundred thousand years would I have believed Adler would so brazenly leave something out for us to find. A little hidden delight most gumshoes would never spot."

"To those who understand well few words are needed," Ballister chirpped.

An erudite analyst, Dutton considered Ballister wise beyond his tender years and a good partner. He concentrated his full attention on his labor. Adler had been methodical with this attack.

"The murder was no crime of passion," Dutton deduced.

"The question is where is that slimeball hiding himself now?" Ballister wondered.

His expectations not high, Dutton discovered a hard object underneath the dipsty dumpster. He reached over and retrieved a serrated knife with a heavy handle. Darkness stained the blade.

"No doubt Sondra Schmidt's life taker," Dutton informed Ballister. Bagging the weapon, he handed it to his assistant for safekeeping, then asked, "Did Adler intend for us to find this so conveniently?"

"You've always had good fortune smile on you with catching cold-blooded killers before," Ballister said.

"All except the one I want to bring down the most. Adler's starting to get cocky with these clues he's leaving. He's cracking, Mark. That means we're getting closer. C'mon. I gotta see a dog about a man," Dutton replied.

"Your maven. Should have known you'd get to this point."