Murdock had been a young cop. He lay on his back in the snow in full uniform, cap still set squarley on his head. His throat had been cut - a deep, slashing wound that ran clear around his neck. There was a note next to his badge - pinned there with a knife that had been sunk all the way to the hilt in his chest. It was a crudely printed message, in pencil: THIS IS THE FIRST ONE.