The crying came to an abrupt stop was they ran up the stairs and out of the house.  They must have run one hundred yards before Clem’s middle age constitution began to run out.  “Let’s take a look at the chil’ and make sure she’s all right.”

“I don’t hear her breathin’ no more,” Molly said beginning to panic.

“Probably all the cryin’ made her conk out, that’s all,” Clive tried to sound reassuring but a sense of dread was overtaking him too.  “Let’s get under that street light and take a look.”

A good half minute of silence passed as the trio positioned themselves under the buzzing and blinking light and Clem removed the blanket covering the baby’s face….

Sergeant Johnson hated this beat.  This park used to be so nice before all of bums from the big city moved in and turned the place into a shit hole.  Usually nothing more serious than drug deals or petty crime but still….

The call from two officers at the south end adjacent to the old Miller place sounded quite urgent.  As he approached two officers faced him with incredulous looks on their faces.  They were standing over three bodies. 

“A jogger found this,” one of them said.

“These three get capped or what?”

“Not likely, take a look.”

He did two men and a woman, early forties, obviously homeless.  Their throats had been completely ripped out, almost to the neck bone. 

“Holy shit,” the sergeant gasped.  “Who or what did this?”

“The worse thing is,” the other officer continued.  “That the woman is holding a baby’s swaddling blanket.  Where is the kid?”