Wildfire At Midnight

I FOLLOWED MARCIA TO HER ROOM... She pushed her door open and groped for the light switch. When the lights went on I heard her gasp. She was standing as if frozen, her back to me, her hands up to her throat. Then she screamed, a high, tearing scream. " The murderer. Oh my God, the murderer..." She grabbed my arm and pointed to the bed, her lips shaking so much that she couldn't speak coherently. I stared down at the bed, white the slow goose flesh pricked up my spine. Lying on the coverlet was a doll, the kind of frivolous doll I had seen dozens of times. But this one was different. It was lying flat on its back on the bed, with its legs straight out and its hands crossed on its chest. The contents of an ash tray had been scattered over it, and a great red gash gleamed across its neck, where its throat was cut from ear to ear...