As a rule, daytime reporters and anchors were usually even more frivolous and dim-witted than their evening counterparts. But for some reason this day, everyone seemed very businesslike. Remo soon learned why.

There was a breaking news story out of nearby Milford.

An office worker at a small software company had gone berserk an hour before. According to the reporter on the scene, the heavily armed man had entered the building where he worked, guns blazing.

There were a dozen confirmed dead, seven more wounded.

The killer was holed up in the rear of the building. A handful of office workers were unaccounted for. The police had not yet stormed the building, fearing for the safety of any survivors that might still be inside.

And so began the strange dance of camera and helicopter that seemed to capture American interest every few months.

The film crew showed stock footage of the killer's car a dozen times. It was a red Pinto with Bondo on the hood and rust chewing away the doors. The name Munchie was emblazoned on the lopsided vanity plate. A reporter mentioned repeatedly that this was the killer's nickname.

They flashed pictures of the killer on-screen. It was the sort of face not easily forgotten.

Remo needed only one look.

He had put on the news only for the weather report. But the weather forecast was suspended in favor of shock news. For Remo, enough was enough. He was sick of seeing this sort of thing erupt on his television with disgusting regularity.

When Remo switched off the TV and headed for the front door, the ghostly gaze of his invisible entourage was with him. The eyes trailed him out to the car and remained with him for the drive up to Milford.

"Could you back off today, fellas?" Remo muttered. "I'm trying to work here."

Asking around, he found the cordoned area around Soft Systems, Inc. with relative ease. At the line of police cars he doubled back, parking his car down the street in a Shop-Rite supermarket lot. He returned to the office complex on foot.