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"911, what's your emergency?"

"Oh my God, he's coming after me. Help me please!"

"Ma'am, who is after you?"

"He broke in, he's got a... please help!"

"Okay ma'am, we'll send someone right over. Please stay on the line. Are you someplace safe?"

"Yes, I think so. He's coming up the stairs... please hurry!"

"The police are on the way. What is your name, ma'am?"

"It's... no, please, no."

"Ma'am, what's happening? Ma'am, talk to me."

Click. The line went dead.

Minutes later, four deputies of the Craighead County sheriff's department arrived at the address of the 911 call. They exited their vehicles, guns drawn, and bodies bent toward the ground. Immediately, however, stood erect, putting their weapons away.

Sheriff Privett pushed to the front of the small cluster of deputies. He walked up to the fence and stared at the spot where the house should have been. Turning back to his deputies, he asked, "which one of them do ya think made the call?" The deputies couldn't help stifling a laugh, when one of the residents mooed.

There were eleven calls to the 911 system before the real emergency came in. Paula Caddo, the dispatcher, handled it according to her training, which wasn't well, reading frantically from a protocol list. In the first few seconds of the conversation, Paula could tell that things were not right. The woman on the other end was breathing louder than she speaking. Although an address popped on screen, Paula could not pull up the portion of the system that activated the emergency response personnel. There was a eerie silence in the line, in the background, which was broken by crashing and screaming. Then, the line went dead. Paula immediately abandoned the protocol and called Sheriff Privett, hysterically pleading for help.

"Were there any suspicious calls before this one came in?" asked Sheriff Privett when he returned to the station.

"No," answered Paula.

"There are eleven calls on the screen, what the hell were they?" he bellowed.

"The first was Tommy Smith and Nick Scialla. They were prankin'. I threatened to send over a couple of deputies. They never called back after that," she explained matter-of-factly. "The second, third, and fourth were from Jimmy in the bottoms. He said that he was checking the system, wantin' to see if his tax dollars were workin'. The next few were from the Lewis house. Anton and Shanta were fightin' again. They kept calling, trying to get each other arrested. We sent Gerald over there to explain that a false report could get them both a pretty big fine. They decided to make up after that. The other two calls were from the pizza place trying to get my order straight: that Nadine can't remember shit."

"Pain in the asses, every last one of 'em. Nothing else?"

"Nope."

"You checked the address again, and it came out the same."

"Yep. I also tried to see if it could have been a cell call, but I haven't got that far in my training, so I can't tell you one way or another."

" That's all we can do."

Later that day, Sheriff Privett received a breathless call from on of his deputies.

"We found the house; the one that the call came from last night."

"Wait, where is it? Is the victim a woman?" asked the sheriff, sitting straight up in his chair.

"It's an old farm house down by the Strawberry River. The woman is Micah Duncan. She's a secretary at Dr. Cane's office."

"I'll be right there."

Richard Duncan worked nights stocking grocery store shelves at the Country Grocery thirty miles away. He usually got home just as Micah was making the morning coffee. He could usually smell it as he walked up the front steps.

Today, the aroma of coffee did not meet his nostrils as he ascended his front porch. As a matter of fact, he noticed that the front door was open. Richard had a feeling in his gut that something was wrong. However, he tried to push it aside, as he entered his home.

The table in the entry way was thrown on its side, and a vase of silk flowers was overturned with the flowers and their green Styrofoam base spilling out. Muddy traces of footprints led into the living room, beckoning Richard to follow. There, the glass coffee table in the middle of the room was shattered. His recliner was overturned and pictures on the walls in the hall leading to their bedroom were knocked down. Richard conjured an image of Micah being chased, grabbing at things to hurl her attacker as she went. Richard followed her trail, finally finding its end and his wife in the bedroom.

Micah was on the floor, her body half in the closet and half out. Surrounding the corpse was a dark pool of her blood. Richard, however, was focused on the way in which his wife's body was posed. Later, while talking to the sheriff, he would not remember the words that slipped into his head as he stared at his wife. He had thought, "she was hunted and gutted like a deer." Micah's intestines hung loosely from a long vertical cut in her meaty belly.

The phone records from the Duncan home showed a late night call to the 911 switchboard, lasting for five minutes. Micah had made the call form her home, but, for some reason, the system gave the wrong address. Paula and the sheriff called in a few local computer techs who offered no explanation for the phenomenon. Even the manufacturers of the system were baffled. The system was tested, and passed. No one could figure out why this had happened to Micah Duncan.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Help me," a woman whispered softly.

"Ma'am, I can't understand you, can you speak louder?"

Silence.

"Ma'am, are you there?"

"Help," she whispered weakly before the line went dead.

"Call the sheriff," Paula said, her eyes still glued to the screen.

"Why, is something wrong?" asked the new tech hired to inspect the system.

"Yeah, I just got a call for help from the abandoned feed store."

Sheriff Privett was pacing, rubbing the little hair that he had left on his head. "How the hell is this happening?" he shouted. "Do we even know where the call really came from yet?" His pacing accelerated. The conference room full of people gave him a wide berth.

"No sir," replied Deputy Sams, as he quickly stepped out of the sheriff's path.

"How the hell does someone switch the addresses of these calls? It has to be that, right. Right?" He was now facing the silent crowd, as if trying to stare an answer out of them. Receiving none, he began pacing again.

"Someone could be hacking in from the inside the system," said a voice behind the crowd. Sheriff Privett stopped and turned with the rest of the crowd in the direction of the voice. "But we would need to be logged on when he is to know for sure."

A short man stepped through the crowd, removing his glasses as he emerged from the back of the room.

"Draper, I thought you quit," exclaimed Sheriff Privett.

"No," Draper began, "I just needed some time to lick my wounds. I went to visit some family in the hills, did some fishing. I helped move a couple of relatives out here, they liked the area when they came out for the election. I wasn't in town long before I heard about what's going on-you know how fast word spreads around this town-and decided to come to see if you needed a hand."

"I could sure use on. And, listen, no hard feelings about the election, okay?"

"None at all, my friend; we began the race saying let the best man win. Didn't we?"

"We did. Do you want your old job back, I could sure use you?"

"No, I'm done with the formal end of law enforcement. Instead, I want to go solo, be a consultant. I'm believe that I have enough years in uniform to help me get started, don't you think?"

"I think we could work something out." Sheriff Privett was smiling now. He had to walk through the crowd-which was holding its collective breathe-to embrace the old friend that he thought was lost. Terrence Draper was Deputy Sheriff, and Privett's advisor, for ten years. That all ended the night Privett was reelected sheriff.

This time it was the foot search team that found the victim. They compiled a list of every female that was alone and unaccounted for during the time of the 911 call. After tracking down a couple of runaways, a woman in the company of someone other than her husband, and the daughters of some very paranoid parents; they had a break. Two deputies pounded the door of an elderly couple who were on vacation. The men had drawn the task of dealing with the venomous granddaughter who house-sitting. She had a disdain for law enforcement that only came from years of wreaking havoc on the county--and getting caught at it. Her grandparents had informed the sheriff's department that she was at home alone; asked that they check on her from time to time.

Not long after the property search began, the body was found. She was gutted, like the previous victim, and her body was surrounded by a bloody mess at the bottom of the basement stairs.

Draper showed up and assisted Privett in coordinating the crime scene and security teams. When word got loose that there was another body found, people ascended like flies to a trash barrel. The state sent in two more techs to take apart the computer system. There had to be something that could point them to the killer.

In a small town, doors are never locked, and in the summer, windows are always open. Things changed after the discovery of the second body. Door keys were dug out of drawers, and car alarms engaged for the first time since they were bought. Tommy Parker the alarm security specialist (what it says on his card under auto mechanic) started seeing business. For the first time, he actually received a Fed-Ex package that wasn't car parts. He had to shut down the shop for a while.

The next town meeting was a free for all. "Order, order," shouted Mayor Robert Graham as he slammed the gavel down on the table. "Now I know that we all have concerns about the...uh...events in the last few weeks." The crowd exploded again. "Okay, okay," he shouted, banging the gavel again. "Settle down. There's no use in getting upset. We must let the proper authorities handle the situation. Anger and pandemonium will only hinder the process."

"What do we do in the meantime? We're sitting ducks," shouted one of the elderly ladies of the church. There were several approving words from the crowd.

"I know that you are frustrated, but we can't just act out of that frustration." The crowd erupted again, and he could not regain control. Sheriff Privett tried to control the crowd, but he was even less successful."

"Why don't you don't you do your job and catch the sick-o?" someone shouted.

"What are you guys doing, waiting for the guy to send you a map?"

"How many of us have to die before you do something?"

"I voted you in, just remember that!"

"There are some things you can do to keep safe," yelled Draper, getting everyone's attention. He was seated beside Sheriff Privett, watching the spectacle. He had worn a polo shirt and worn jeans, as if he was trying to be more approachable. Draper mingled with the crowd when they got there, stopping to talk with everyone. Privett couldn't help but think that Draper was campaigning again, the man even kissed a few babies.

"Listen up," he continued. "First, he has only struck homes that are in the bottoms. He has also struck only at the homes where there was a female at home alone." The crowd began to buzz, but they remained attentive. "Now, it ain't much, but this is the best information we got. Just remember to buddy up or even just check on any female at home alone overnight. Sorry ladies, I don't mean to sound sexist, but those are the facts. Now, let's show some respect our mayor, and cut out all the shouting." Draper sat back as the mayor discussed the new curfew and community watch groups. He folded his arms across his chest and tried to suppress a grin.

The mayor set up a tip line that was immediately inundated with calls. All were checked out, and were found to be false alarms. The state tech remained with the newly hired operators in shifts, hoping for another call. It was a hope everyone in the station, but no one has the guts to admit it. The entire town was on pins and needles for week when the killer struck again.

"911 what is your emergency?"

"A guy just tried to break into my daughter's house, I think it might have been her ex, but I'm not sure."

"Is your daughter okay?"

"Yes, she is. Y'all better hurry though, if you wanna catch this sucker, he's been running for a few minutes now, might be at the river by now. Maybe not, I did get a shot at him, nicked his leg; might have slowed him down a bit."

"I'm sending a unit over right now. Sir, could you verify your daughter's address?"

"Yeah, it's 3063 Hwy 364."

"Okay , someone will be in minutes."

"I thank you."

The dispatcher hung up the phone and looked over at the tech, who was already scanning the system. The address didn't match. It was their man.

Privett headed up the rush to the scene. Everyone had been briefed via cell. Draper, surprisingly, was not answering his, but Privett wasn't concerned. The plan was to cover the area this side of the river while a second team would cover the other side. If the guy was shot, then Privett would stand a chance of catching him.

In minutes, they had located the killer. He was trying to run while holding his hand over a bloody wound in his leg. The shadows of the bottoms gave way to the killer's dark silhouette under the new moon.

"Stop or I'll shoot," Privett yelled. The killer had stopped, and pressed his body against the thick trunk of a tree. His stance confirmed his injury, however, his outstretched arms warned of a drawn gun.

"Drop your weapon, we have you surrounded," Privett shouted. The man still didn't answer, but the sheriff saw what he thought was a flash of light. Instinctively, he ducked low in time to hear a low whistle just over his head.

A chain reaction was started. The trigger-happy posse fired upon the figure by the tree. Privett saw him slump and yelled for them to ceasefire. They had peppered the body of the town's first serial murderer.

Seated in the ragged recliner, across the littered floor from the television, the man sat playing with a hunting knife. He stabbed the arm of the recliner and then pulled the knife out; stab, pull, stab, pull. Each time the knife went deeper. Each time his hand reddened as he strained to pull it loose.

On the television, Sheriff Privett held a news conference, discussing the capture of the killer. "Apparently, Draper had a home link to the county system. From his house, he would switch the addresses of the calls. We are still trying to find the motive for each of the killings, but for now, they all seemed to be opportunistic. The women were at home, alone, overnight. The entire town is stunned by this news. I urge you all to ban together so we may all overcome this tragedy."

"Sheriff, Sheriff," called a reporter. "I heard that Draper was motivated by an embarrassing loss in the county elections. They say that he was trying to get back at you by making you look bad, so that you would resign, and he could get your office."

"I am not at liberty to respond to any of those rumors. I have to wait for the conclusion of the investigation before I can freely comment."

"Sheriff," called another reporter. "For the record, the suspect killed tonight was really former Deputy Draper?"

"That is correct..."

He was angry, unable to do anything but sit and listen to this garbage. The jackass still gets all the credit, he thought, just like when we were kids. He was the smart one, the one getting the spotlight. I was the one behind the scenes, muscling in on the competition, and getting the information he needed to cheat. You'd think that after all of these years, I would finally get the proper recognition for what I do. I do all the work, and my goody-goody cousin always gets all the credit! This was my best work, and he took that away from me. Draper had done nothing! I hunted, I staked them out, and I carved the kills to perfection. It was all me!

Outside that last house, Draper planned to get hurt. I told him that she wasn't alone, but he wanted to do the kill anyway. "It'll be our best work," he says. "We can get two for the price of one," he says. I knew that it was a mistake. It was like he was trying to set me up or something.

When I saw that guy and bailed, I told him to do the same. He had to keep snooping around the house. He didn't believe me. He got what he deserved. I wasn't going to stay there like a sitting duck because my stupid cousin wanted to finally get his hands dirty.

He did this! He took a good thing and messed it up, so that he could take my glory away! He did it again!

There was a loud crash, the shattering of glass, and the zap of electricity. The man had taken the knife and thrown it at the television set, aiming for his cousin Terrence's picture that was plastered all over the screen.