Corrections Officer Dale Swiggum would have to tell his grandkids about this one.

Of course, it might help to actually have kids. Hell, it might help to have a regular girlfriend. But with this story in his arsenal, he was sure to impress that sexy little brunette who manned the checkout at the Piggly Wiggly.

He was going to be transferring Dryden Kane down to the county lockup to stand trial.

He leaned back in the driver's seat and smiled. When he'd been notified of the transport just an hour ago, he knew the convict he was hauling had to be important. Most convicts were transported by bus in broad daylight when they had a court date. When an assignment came down in the middle of the night, it had to be something big. But Dryden Kane? The most notorious Wisconsin serial killer since Jeffrey Dahmer? That was bigger than even Dale could dream.

He peered out the bug-spattered windshield of the state van as the giant steel door slid open and four correctional officers led Kane into the underground garage. The killer looked small in his baggy, dayglow-orange jumpsuit. He did the prisoner shuffle, his legs shackled, hands cuffed and locked to a waist chain.

If Dale met him walking down the street, he'd never guess this average-size, good-looking guy with silver hair was a monster who had killed at least a dozen women. Hunted them like deer. And spread them out for the world to find.

Dale would have a story to tell, all right. He wouldn't have to pretend he was "about something" as the cons liked to say. He was about something.

The correctional officers led the shackled killer into the back of the van. After securing Kane to the bench, two officers clim