By Stephen Gresham
Mr. Macready was such a nice old man. He liked to watch the children walking home from school, especially the little girls. In fact, Mr. Macready knew all about the children of Granite Heights—their names, their houses, even the nights their parents were away.
And when he put on his white nurse’s uniform and smeared his lips with blood-red lipstick, any child would be happy to let him through the door. Oh, they always stared a bit at his clear plastic gloves. But that was nothing compared to how they stared when he got his hands around their fragile little necks and crooned … ROCKABYE BABY.