The street was dark and empty as Stephen made his way down to his house. His meeting had taken longer than usual, and it was almost midnight when he had left office. Turning up his collar against the chilly night air, he rushed through the picket gate and fumbled for his keys as he approached his door. The car was in the garage, so she must already be in. After a few sleep-deprived attempts at turning the key in the lock, he finally heard the familiar click, and the door creaked open. He flicked on the switch as he entered, and froze when he saw the sight that awaited him.

His beloved wife, Martha, lay in cold blood, her pale face in terror and anguish at the figure in front of her. Her bare fingers were drenched in blood and her wedding ring seemed to have been hurled across the room with considerable force. Stephen bent down and delicately placed Martha’s head on his lap. Warm tears splashed onto his wife’s beautiful face as he screamed...