“There's been another sighting.” The dishevelled man flicked the ash from his cigar. Its smoke filled the cold stone room in a grey haze. His fingers rapidly tapped at his plastic keyboard. The sound echoed in the frigid harsh concrete office. Across from him a man in a long back duster perked up his ears.

“Little backwater shithole known as Lamplight South Carolina. Town is barely on the map. Just a high street and scattered cabins. Perfect place for him. Buncha yank hicks that don't know their arse from their head.” the man flicked the ash from his cigar once more and turned his monitor to the man across him.

The screen's bright light reflected off of the man's eyes in the darkness as he squinted for a better look. “He's getting bold again.” the man grunted at the picture displayed on the screen. The faculty of the Lamplight high school stood proudly in front of the building. The councillor's gold toothed grin shone like a beacon in the night.

“This is definitely the same bloke James. Look at his shit eatin grin.'' The portly man reached into his desk and pulled from it a card binder. He emptied its contents in front of the duster clad man. “Whats this?” he flipped through pages of news articles and photos all showing The Stranger in different places and times in Lamplight.

“Hes been going back there since nineteen eighty five. He showed up at all sorts. Car accidents, fires, robberies. Most interestin though is a murder in nineteen eighty seven.'' The man coughed and pushed a newspaper article towards James. His heavily scarred hand reached from the dark haze and grabbed the page.

“Drug addicted maniac kills wife and injures unborn son.” The article featured the mugshot of Ron Carmichael alongside the picture of a blood covered Officer Williams. In the background of the picture of the Officer a familiar gold toothed grin stood out from the crowd. “Not the first time he's made some crackhead kill himself Dave '' James tossed down the page unimpressed.

“I knew you would say that you miserable bastard.” Dave slammed a photograph down on the cold metal desk sending the sound bouncing from wall to wall. “Now what do you see there lad? Big african american officer with a skinny white boy. That boy is the child that was involved in that shite show. That big mountain of a man was the responding officer.”

James leaned forward in interest “his forearm. Calling card. Burned finger marks” Dave threw his hands in the air and smiled. “There's your connection lad. This officer is branded by our man but he aint dead. Means he wants him for somethin.” James screwed up his nose and blew away the hanging smoke.

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“You think its the boy?” Dave stubbed out the remains of his cigar. “Lad, I know it's the boy. Ask yerself. Why would a single black cop take in some crackhead’s kid? Unless he was made to. My thinkin is that not long after the druggy topped himself our man made this Officer take in the boy. 17 years later here we are.”

James stood up from his chair and turned away “so he got the poor boy a babysitter. Aint that lovely '' Dave slammed the desk with his fist and demanded “sit down! You aint heard why im tellin you yet.'' The large man's age had done nothing to calm his temper. Years of chasing shadows had preserved his rage in bile. He rose to his feet, his large stomach pushing the desk as he rose.

“Forty three.” Dave spluttered to catch his breath. “Forty three people have either gone missin or turned up dead in the last month. In and around Lamplight. Local Chief of police some fool named Hardin he aint got a clue. One thing did come up in all the reports from the bodies they found though.” James turned to face the gasping man.

“The handprint of our man burned into their skin?” Dave nodded and chuckled at James’ words. “Hes cleanin house. Everyone he has had dodgy dealins with. They are all being ticked off one. Let me tell you lad some of these deads were real nasty work. Nonces, rapists, killers, kidnappers. He's been gettin rid of everyone he's used.” the man's heavy frame slumped back into his chair with his final word.

“What's this got to do with the boy?” James walked to a rusted metal storage locker and wrenched its ancient door open. He grabbed two large pistols and placed them into holsters under his duster. “I think it's him that's killin em. I think our man has found himself a successor.”

James slicked back his black hair and placed a dark leather flat cap atop his head. He pulled up his black cloth mouth and nose cover and slammed the locker shut. “I think he's like you James.” The old man took a lower tone as he spoke. James’ head snapped to him as his pupils lit up bathing the room in their golden glow. Dave sighed.

“Hey, I'm serious this time. Not messin around lad I think I've found someone like you. Look ere” Dave gestured to crime scene photos spread across the table. “First ones start out yer regular run of the mill murders right, butcherin, stabbin, decapitatin. Then you get to this point here right. Victim number twenty one. His blood boiled inside his veins. Number twenty two had his heart hole punched out of his chest.”

Dave gleefully shuffled through the photos `number forty three the latest one. Honestly I thought it was a bear attack at first. Look at the claw marks. Slashes are too close together to be a bear. I think the young lad has been learning. Picking up new things.” James picked up the boys school record.

“Kevin Williams. I wonder if he's seen the tree yet.” he tucked the record and a picture into his duster's inner pocket. “So I'll book you a flight then? Still got a favour to call in with commander pierce. Halo drop above lamplight?” Dave smiled as he grabbed the receiver on his red rotary phone. “Today. Tell them I'll be at the base in an hour.”

James swung open a heavy metal door that gave way to the morning sunlight. The old man shielded his eyes from the sudden assault. The door slammed with a heavy thud returning the lonely office to darkness. “Fuckin prick. Flash yer eyes at me bloody twat.” Dave grumbled to himself as he rotated the aged dial of his phone.