Karl Adler hot-wired a powder blue Trans Am on the Crowne Pontiac dealership lot. Right under their upscale, snobby noses. Pleased with his accomplishment, Adler slapped the steering wheel with the palm of his right hand and let loose a hearty guffaw.

"You are so good!" He praised himself.

Adler chose the Firebird for its acceleration and frigorific handling. Overqualified for such tedious scut work, Adler drove at a medium speed to the Pine Ridge Parkway before he turned east.

Ever since he was a youngster, music played a huge role in Adler's life. He discovered pleasure in the Seattle Sound's fusion of punk rock and heavy metal, and its distortion of the electric guitar in what became known as Grunge. Adler also favored the rhythmic beats of Hip Hop, a style he first encountered in his Big Apple Bronx days. Ninety minutes later, Adler arrived at his destination.

He smiled and said, "Congrats, maestro, you're right on time."

Adler grew pleased by the showy finery, the inner city's grime, and the evilness he observed around him among the people of the street. His people. Their dispair and hopelessness brought gratification. Adler appreciated the lack of humanizing qualities, sensitivity, and nobility of the down-and-outers. Feeling as if he was home, Adler wondered if Dutton, and his fellow geniuses, realized his whereabouts?

Checking into the chic and audacious penthouse, Adler stood at the canted bay window overlooking the harbor. He wondered why he always had to be so misunderstood? Why no one could figure his patterned murders out?

At three a.m. sharp, Adler struck again. Satisfied with his midnight stroll, Adler sent a message about his attack to Dutton's computer.

Dutton was on the immediate move. Thirty officers raced to Carver Heights in hopes Adler was still there.

Shop was established in the local police precinct station. Not considered average torchbearers, three officers manned the facility. They were unprepared for the savage carnage Adler left behind.

The Times and Daily newspapers piled high on a conference table. Headlines continued to have a calvacade with Adler's kills. Dutton noticed a couple that read "Monster On The Prowl" and "Karl Adler Strikes Again."

Deep black circles under his droopy eyes, Ballister looked frazzled. "Adler is a split personality."

Dutton shook his head in disagreement. "Adler's in control of his cunning shrewdness all the time. The question is what is the flipping purpose for all his kills?"

"He's had us chasing him around this state, and we still are. No one has ever beguiled us like Adler," Ballister stated.

"As a complete whack job he's in a class by himself," Dutton agreed, "but, he's communicating in some quirky way. Presuppositions? Spiels? Unbearable frustrations? What benefits drive him?"

"Maybe Adler's trying to make us totally insane," Ballister suggested.

"What we need to figure out is Adler's rationale. Why is he killing so many people?" Dutton questioned.

"It can't be anything simple," Ballister stated.

Dutton sensed Adler was nearby.