*It was late, when Mr. and Mrs. Merriweather left Satriani's Sonata Club. They'd had a wonderful time, listened to some beautiful music, shared some excellent food and nice bottle of Merlot. It was the nicest evening the two had experienced in recent memory.*

~Oh, Charles, the music was lovely. We simply -must- go back again.~

/Of course we will, Lillian./ *Charles smiled and patted his wife's shoulder as he gently guided her down the street. Being half his size, the wine had affected her much more than him. The night air was crisp and cool, and it felt good compared to the warmth within the club. Neither one of them noticed the mattress that extended into the sidewalk. Lillian tripped, and it was only Charles's strong arm that kept her from sprawling onto the sidewalk.*

~The nerve of some people, leaving their garbage on the...~*Lillian's face went white, and her hand covered her mouth. ~Oh, my god, Charles!~ *

*Charles saw it too, and his breath caught in his throat. A mattress soaked in blood, and a young woman hideously disfigured. It was obvious that she was dead. He forcefully turned his wife away from the sight, and she buried her head in his chest, crying. With one arm, he hugged her closer while his other hand tugged his cell phone free from a pocket and began to dial.*

/911. This is Charles Merriweather, and I am located at the corner of 14th and Main. A woman's been killed, please hurry./

#Of course, sir. We're sending an ambulance and a squad car to you now.#

/Thank you, thank you very much./ *He closed his cell phone and did his best to comfort his wife, he could already hear the ambulance wailing in the distance.*

*It was hours later when Claire got the call. The DNA had proved that Kimberly Spelling, age 23, was the sixth victim of this psycho killer. Unfortunately, Claire's theory had been proven correct. He was still out there, and he would strike again, and again, and again. It didn't look like she would be sleeping tonight..*

~*~Back~*~