“Now, let’s take a look at these—” Jay hopped off the desk and walked toward the charts of the human body he’d hung on the wall. One was skeletal, another was muscular, another showed the organs, and the fourth was a blowup of the sketch of a human body with the marks and notations added by a coroner from an actual case. He told the class this crime had occurred over ten years earlier, when a killer who called himself Father John was stalking the streets of New Orleans. The ligature marks around the victim’s neck, as indicated by the ME’s notes, were unique to Father John, or the Rosary Killer as he’d been called, who had strangled each of his victims with a rosary he’d created just for that purpose.

Father John had been a twisted serial killer, someone the kids would find macabre and fascinating.

Jay had not only a copy of the drawing from the autopsy, but photographs of the victim, which he would show later, then demonstrate how the science of forensics had helped lead the police to their killer. This case, he thought, would interest his class as the murderer had been familiar with All Saints Campus. Of course, Kristi Bentz might find it all a little more personal as her father had helped unmask the killer’s identity. He noticed that she straightened in her chair.

“Now we’ll look at a murder and work backward. You’ll see we have a photograph of the victim and the medical examiner’s notes.” He reached for a stack of papers and began passing them out. “We’ll look at the body the way the ME did. Start on page one, it’s a smaller version of the medical examiner’s notes….”

Tonight, Vlad thought, from his perch on the third floor. Tonight would be a perfect time for his next abduction. He glanced upward through the highest limbs of the trees to the sheer outline of the moon, barely visible through the slowly moving clouds.

But, of course, that was not how the process worked. He couldn’t just take a victim on her way home from a late class or the library or her job. He wasn’t allowed to hide in the backseat of their cars at night, nor stalk them as they went unknowingly about their business. No…he was required to wait, to play the game, to make certain everything went as meticulously planned. He could take a life tonight, but it would not be one of the elite, one of the “chosen.” Those who had been screened so carefully, those he deemed the royal ones. The privileged and college-educated. He had to be careful with them. They were being watched. But the others. Those he could maraud at will; though as ever, he must be careful. Always careful.

He heard the chime of the chapel bells and his pulse quickened. It was time.