As with the other sites, the psychopath had been kind enough to leave behind some bodies in the basement. The only thing different was that he’d changed his style of murder, which left me torn between crying and wanting to level the city myself. In the center of the family room, we found children tied back to back in a pair of wooden dining-room chairs. The little boy looked to be about four years old and the girl was six or seven. It was easier to guess because they both still had their heads. The fucker had punched into their chests and ripped their hearts out. Their young faces were still streaked with tears from where they had cried for their parents before being murdered. Their horror was a palpable thing, seeming to suck the oxygen from the air. Where were their parents through this? Had the children been forced to watch their parents being murdered before they finally met their own grisly end? Or was it the other way around? Gideon cleared his throat, dragging his gaze away from the tortured pair.
