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common auditorium and cafeteria to cut down on costs, and there was only one principal. The maintenance crew consisted of four people; two took care of the janitorial work and the other two were responsible for the playground, as well as the high school athletic fields.
    The Lake Eden school complex worked well. Since the grade school and the high school were connected, older brothers and sisters were always available to drive a younger sibling home in the event of illness, or to calm a frightened kindergartner who missed Mom and Dad. This arrangement also provided a bonus for Jordan High students. The seniors who planned to become teachers were encouraged to volunteer as classroom aides during their free period. The early on-the-job training had produced several college graduates who’d returned to Lake Eden to accept teaching positions at the school.
    As she turned on Third Street and drove past the city block that had been set aside for family recreation, Hannah realized that there were no preschoolers playing in Lake Eden Park. The chains on the swings were perfectly motionless, the merry-go-round was still laden with the colorful leaves that had fallen during the morning, and though the temperature had topped the predicted high of forty-eight degrees, there were no children on tricycles pedaling along the circular sidewalk around the playground.
    For a moment this struck Hannah as odd. It was the type of weather that a mother of a preschooler prayed for. But then she remembered what had happened this morning and she understood why the park was empty. There was a killer loose in Lake Eden. Concerned parents were keeping their children inside, out of harm’s way.
    There was a long line of cars idling at curbside on Gull Avenue. It stretched for three blocks leading to and from the school complex, blocking access to driveways and fire hydrants in blatant disregard for the city parking statutes. Hannah inched her way past worried-looking parents waiting for the dismissal bell to ring, and as she neared the school, she saw that Herb Beeseman, his patrol car freshly washed and waxed, was parked diagonally in front of the entrance. He wasn’t handing out any tickets for the infractions that were occurring right under his nose, and Hannah assumed that he’d placed the safety of Lake Eden’s children at a higher priority than filling the city’s coffers.
    Hannah reached back between the seats and snagged a bag of Molasses Crackles. She always carried several bags of cookies with her for times like these. Then she pulled up beside Herb’s patrol car and rolled down her window. “Hi, Herb. I’m going in to cater the Boy Scout Awards Banquet. Is it okay if I pull into the lot?”
    â€œSure, Hannah,” Herb responded, his eyes on the bag of cookies in her hand. “Just make sure you park legally. Are those for me?”
    Hannah handed him the bag. “You’re doing a great job protecting the kids. I’m sure the parents appreciate it.”
    â€œThanks.” Herb looked pleased at her compliment. “Does your mother still hate me for that ticket I gave her?”
    â€œShe doesn’t exactly hate you, Herb.” Hannah decided that this wasn’t the time to tell Herb precisely what her mother had called him. “But she’s still a little put out.”
    â€œI’m sorry I had to do it, Hannah. I like your mother, but I can’t have people speeding through town.”
    â€œI understand and I think Mother does, too. She’s just not quite willing to admit it yet.” Hannah began to grin. “At least one good thing came out of that ticket.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œShe stopped trying to fix me up with you.”
    Hannah was chuckling as she drove off. Judging from the surprised expression on Herb’s face, he hadn’t guessed that her mother had previously considered him for the position of son-in-law.
    The wide gate that