The past five years of my life have dragged along. I've been chasing my own tail for years, trying to catch a serial killer. Not just any serial killer, but THE serial killer. He has been incomparable in how he kills and even in his contacting the police... namely me. My name is Charles Clyatt. I'm the lead detective on his case. Some think I'm all washed up, because of the one case that I haven't been able to solve...yet. It's not like anyone else had a better chance at solving it, either. But, with only a month to go until my retirement, my whole career is being defined by this one case and it's driving me crazy. Having had to watch family after family die has caused me years of distress. He always targets the happy families. He watches them die slowly. He likes to look at their faces, into their eyes, as life's joys slip away; as the life drains from their bodies. He believes he sees into their very souls. At least, that's what one profiler had to say about the inner workings of his mind. Of all of the cold blooded killers I've come across, the hundreds I've caught over the years, I've never seen any as monstrous as he is.