Part Two

Ever since Deirdre made the call, she was frightened by what she knew. And fear is a good catalyst. Ever since Deirdre made the call, she had started her own private investigation.

Lately, her father had been coming home late from work once in a while. Deirdre racked her brain, trying to remember. She shivered as the days lined up.

Every day a member of the Chamber had been killed, Jonathan Warren had come home later than usual.

The next day, Jon Warren had a shadow. A teenaged shadow. The family movie camera she held ready in her hand.

She was not disappointed.

---

Two days after the Chief of Police filed the next murder, he received a package. A homemade video, showing a figure standing behind a tree, completely still. Redkin blinked, then out-and-out stared as he watched the rest of the short film, the perfect evidence. When the movie ended, he replayed it, slowly, frame by frame. Then he sent the movie to the criminologists, to get their view on it. They had come to the same conclusion as he. The movie was not a fake.

He pulled out a list of police officers and their profiles, and specially chose ten officers. Officers with no children, or spouses. Officers who mentioned that they had no qualms about dying in the line of fire.

He called those officers together and explained their mission. None chose to stay behind.

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There was now only one man left to wreak his vengeance on—the man Jon left for last: Henry Grand, President of the Chamber of Commerce of Grandview. Nephew of the venerable mayor.

Jon grinned savagely, alone in his workshop. His knife rose steadily out of his grip and plunged with deadly speed straight into the signature on the battered letter.

His back was to the window, or he might have seen the glint of a camera lens, capturing the image of a floating knife, and a feral profile.

---

Chief Redkin had his police officers spread out around the house of Henry Grand. They were all experienced in the art of stakeout—as the suspect’s path was ascertained, the officers in his way silently moved out of it. The suspect stood out the house’s line of sight, leaning casually against a tree. The Chief himself could not stifle a gasp as the front door opened spontaneously. But the sound was drowned by Henry Grand’s screams as he was dragged out the door by an invisible force.

Henry Grand began to rise, up into a tree in his front yard. He was set almost gently onto a high branch. But before the blow came from behind, the one that would push him out to his death, a tranquilizer dart with a triple dose—enough to put an enraged bear out like a light in an instant—hit Jonathan Warren in the back. Jonathan sunk to his knees, and was carried away by five officers as the Chief and the other five officers set out a landing pad for Mr. Grand. Chief Redkin stayed long enough to assure Henry Grand that he was in no danger the entire time, that they had been watching to make sure that he would be safe, before he hurried off to supervise the arrest and confinement of Jonathan Warren.

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Jon Warren pled guilty to multiple charges of first-degree murder, and was held in a specially constructed cell on Death Row with magnetic locks. But before he could be given the lethal injection, he was found dead in his cell without a mark upon him. The doctors who performed his autopsy could only report facts: the deceased had died from a burst heart, cause unknown. His brain, they noted, had replaced the lightning-damaged synapses with more than was required, the probable cause of his unusual abilities.

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The Lullaby Murderer’s Summer was a season of infamy for Grandview. When the story hit the papers the day after Jonathan’s arrest, everyone was chilled by the expression of the man on the front page—wild-eyed, mad.

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Jon Warren was buried in a lonely corner of St. Germaine Cemetery, mourned by none. The same day, a memorial service was held for the murdered members of the Chamber of Commerce. To the surprise of some and the gratitude of others, Deirdre Warren attended, with her violin.

She played a haunting version of that infamous lullaby, one that sent chills down the spine of even the most controlled of listeners.

She sang, and all knew her for the voice on the tape.

“Rock-a-bye baby

In the treetop,

When the wind blows,

The cradle will rock.

When the bough breaks,

The cradle will fall—”

No one breathed when she paused. She continued, slowly, her eyes bright with tears.

“But Mama will catch you,

Cradle and all.”

Deirdre Warren was adopted across the country, and no one in Grandview ever saw the Lullaby Killer’s daughter again.