I know that if you look up statistics in the UK, there are about the same number of these horrible crimes as there always were. When I was 16 my best friend's sister-in-law came over from the US to visit, she told us stories of all the serial killers around California.

Good grief, Bill.

Wanna know something great about this story (even if the adjective is a little out of place)? I can smell fresh cut grass and the mouth-watering scent of fried potatoes with onions from a kitchen window at suppertime; hear the patter of sprinklers hitting the sidewalk and the odor of wet, sun-heated concrete. And, I can see the pulsing red and blue lights of a local yokel's black and white cruiser against the purple-blue of an evening sky at early dusk.

Not meaning to trivialize your story, nor make light of something so horrific, but my bookworm side says this has the potential of a full fledged crime novel - move over King...