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"Oh my God..." breathed Hark when he saw the body fo the woman lying on the bed, the beautiful face marred by a bloody smile cut into her cheeks. The throat was sliced open. Joshua Hark had worked as a New York homicide detective and had never seen anything near as gruesome as this. He was a normal looking man of average height with spiky black hair and a five-a-clock shadow. He was dressed in black slacks and an emerald green dress shirt. A .357 Magnum was tucked into his belt.
He looked away from the corpse of the lady, feeling sick. Her name was Jessica Smith. 34 years old, married, two kids, 8 and 12, great job as a stay at home mom. The perfect picture of the all-around American dream mother. The rest of her family had been away at a father-son school camp-out when it happened. There were five other people in the room, mostly police officers, but her hysteric husband was sitting on the corner of the bed, his face burried in his hands.
Carl Hicks, the chief of police, walked up to Hark. "I just got word in from HQ, Josh," he said. "This isn't the first murder like this. There have been five identical killings within the last 3 months, with no appearent pattern. There was a black male lawyer from Idaho, a 6 year old girl in Tennessee, a Japanese business tycoon on a trip to Chicago, a little Hispanic boy in New Mexico, and a caucasion guy who worked at a Wal-Mart in Wisconson. There seems to be no apparent pattern."
"God," said Hark. "God, this makes me sick. What kind of psyco kills kids for no reason?"
"I don't know," said Hicks. "And that's what scares me about this business. Wait." His cell was beeping. All color drained from his face. "Hark!" he barked. "There's been another one. eight miles away, on Baker Avenue. Get over there now! I want you doing everything you can to track down this killer!"
"Yes sir. Who was it?" he asked.
Tears started streaming down Hicks' face, catching in his mustache. "It was my daughter, Hark," he sobbed, collapsing to the floor. "The son of a b**ch killed my daughter!"