When Lisa had gone back inside, Hannah backed into the alley and drove off toward Jordan High. It had been named after the first mayor of Lake Eden, Ezekiel Jordan, but she suspected that most of the students believed that their school’s namesake had played pro basketball.

Jordan High and Washington Elementary were two separate buildings that were connected by a carpeted corridor with double-paned windows that overlooked the school grounds. The two schools shared a common auditorium and cafeteria to cut down on costs, and there was only one principal. The maintenance crew consisted of four people; two took care of the janitorial work and the other two were responsible for the playground, as well as the high school athletic fields.

The Lake Eden school complex worked well. Since the grade school and the high school were connected, older brothers and sisters were always available to drive a younger sibling home in the event of illness, or to calm a frightened kindergartner who missed Mom and Dad. This arrangement also provided a bonus for Jordan High students. The seniors who planned to become teachers were encouraged to volunteer as classroom aides during their free period. The early on-the-job training had produced several college graduates who’d returned to Lake Eden to accept teaching positions at the school.

As she turned on Third Street and drove past the city block that had been set aside for family recreation, Hannah realized that there were no preschoolers playing in Lake Eden Park. The chains on the swings were perfectly motionless, the merry-go-round was still laden with the colorful leaves that had fallen during the morning, and though the temperature had topped the predicted high of forty-eight degrees, there were no children on tricycles pedaling along the circular sidewalk around the playground.

For a moment this struck Hannah as odd. It was the type of weather that a mother of a preschooler prayed for. But then she remembered what had happened this morning and she understood why the park was empty. There was a killer loose in Lake Eden. Concerned parents were keeping their children inside, out of harm’s way.

There was a long line of cars idling at curbside on Gull Avenue. It stretched for three blocks leading to and from the school complex, blocking access to driveways and fire hydrants in blatant disregard for the city parking statutes. Hannah inched her way past worried-looking parents waiting for the dismissal bell to ring, and as she neared the school, she saw that Herb Beeseman, his patrol car freshly washed and waxed, was parked diagonally in front of the entrance. He wasn’t handing out any tickets for the infractions that were occurring right under his nose, and Hannah assumed that he’d placed the safety of Lake Eden’s children at a higher priority than filling the city’s coffers.

Hannah reached back between the seats and snagged a bag of Molasses Crackles. She always carried several bags of cookies with her for times like these. Then she pulled up beside Herb’s patrol car and rolled down her window. “Hi, Herb. I’m going in to cater the Boy Scout Awards Banquet. Is it okay if I pull into the lot?”