Prologue The killer watched and listened everything transpire from the shadows of the backyard of the Hansen farm. He had snuck in the house earlier when Ms. Hansen had gone to town. He couldn’t find where Old man Hansen had hidden his Will or the bank account number he so desperately wanted. Mostly he needed to find those letters. Letters from the old country, their beloved Germany where the Hansen’s’ were born. Where the killer had lived in a neighboring town. Where he had first killed. Hansen never saw him coming. He was busy grabbing a rope off the hook on the wall and never knew he was hiding in the corner. The light had faded. Darkness would not too far away. He was reaching for the rope when the killer struck. That was easy. The killer’s heart was pumping and he actually became a bit light headed from the rush killing had given him. He had forgotten how that felt. He had finally started his plan in motion after all these years. The plan had to move forward quickly if he was to realize his fortune. He will have to be cautious of their grandson Mark though. Being the only grandson of the Hansen’s, he would stand to inherit quite a bit. He must find those damn letters. Hansen would not have destroyed them, after all, they were the only thing standing between the killer’s downfall and the money that he believes he is entitled to. His thoughts were interrupted by voices. He had to laugh under his breath listening to their conversation inside the house. “Grandma. You in there?” In an apologetic tone, Mark hollered from the front verandah. “I’m here. Sorry I’m late.” He could make out the grandmother making her way to the door dressed in her cotton dress. He had never seen her in anything but print cotton dresses with pockets. “Well, Hi there. Thought you changed your mind.” He heard her respond. “I’m in the middle of dinner. Guess you must have smelled it and come a running.” He heard Mark ask his grandmother where he grandfather was. She replied “In the pasture. He is trying to get the last of the field tilled before dark. Could you go see what’s keeping him? He works till dark and by the time he comes in for dinner its stone cold.” She added with frustration. He must hurry, the killer thought. Mark will go out the back door and be in the chickenyard before he can get out through the neighbor’s field and out of sight. He rushed through the back field and into the neighbors’ property. He had left his motorcycle in the far end of their property. It will be dark before he gets back to it and driving without lights will pose a challenge. He would come back for the papers. Maybe while they were at the funeral, before they start digging through everything themselves.