Chapter 4 Chapter two

Nightcrawler yelled in my ear many nights that he wanted to hang out for a while.It's like walking a dog. You can ignore its barking and paws on the door for a while, but you eventually have to take it out for a walk. Not long after Inspector LaGuerta's funeral, I heard whispers in the backseat that it was time to plan another little adventure. I've picked out a wonderful playmate, a glib real estate agent named McGregor.The man was jovial all day long, and he loved selling homes to families with children, especially those with young boys.McGregor is particularly fond of boys between the ages of five and seven, to the point of sending them to heaven.I'm sure five children were sent to heaven by him, and there may actually be more than that.

As cunning as a fox, as cautious as a rabbit, McGregor would probably have been on the loose if it weren't for the dark scout Dexter who scouted the ground and got the hard evidence.The police were not at fault in this case.After all, if someone has a missing child, it's rare for someone to say, "Aha! Look who sold them the house?" Of course, there are very few people like Dexter Superman.I saw a report in the newspaper about the disappearance of the boy, and another similar report four months later.The boys were about the same age, and there was always a certain familiarity to such a detail, always causing a Mister Rogers to whisper in my head: "Hello, neighbor."

This hit a nerve. You can say that I am irrational, or even illogical.On the one hand, I am cruel and unfeeling to people, and on the other hand, I am inexplicably very concerned about children.Whenever I find out that someone is using a child as a victim, I feel very uncomfortable. So I compared the first report with the second, both of which specifically mentioned that the two families had just moved into their new home.It seemed like a newspaper sensationalist, but I heard the dark walker's grim laugh and decided to investigate further. This is indeed more subtle.Detective Dexter has to do some research, because the two cases don't seem to be connected at first glance.The two families involved in the accident were in different neighborhoods, went to different churches, went to different schools, and hired different moving companies.This of course ruled out many possibilities.But the Nightwalker will not let go of any clues, even if these clues are extremely subtle.I found the connection: Both houses were originally registered to the same real estate agency.The company was small in South Miami, with just one agent, a warm, smiling man named Randy McGregor.

As I continued to investigate, McGregor was divorced and living alone in a modest concrete house off Old Cutlers Road in South Miami.He also has a 26-foot yacht moored off the small Matheson Hammock marina not far from his home.The yacht might also be the vehicle for taking his deluded little fools out to sea.Once off land, there are no clues left and no fear of witnesses.The sea is the perfect place to dispose of those nasty residues, no wonder no one has ever found the bodies of those boys. This trick is so subtle that even I can't help but admire it.I just used my little boat for fishing and rides, and McGregor came up with a brilliant idea.

McGregor immediately became my biggest suspect, but I had to have solid evidence. I've always tried to avoid killing the wrong person, and now I'm even more reluctant to make an exception, even if it's a real estate agent.It occurred to me that if I didn't want to make a mistake, the best thing I could do was to visit that yacht. What a godsend, it rained heavily the next day, and the torrential rain covered my tracks, the best cover I could get during the day.I left work early, left the Miami-Dade Police Department coroner's office, and took a shortcut to Old Knifemaker Road.I turned left into Matheson Hammock Pier, which seemed deserted.

There is a small parking lot on the left side of the road, which is reserved for a picnic area.To the right is a small lake with an old picnic shelter built of coral stone.I parked the car and put on a goose-yellow waterproof jacket, which was perfect for breaking into a pedophile murderer's yacht.