He was the shock-jock extraordinaire, in syndication in every major market in the country, but it had been quite the fall.  Blackballed and forgotten, he was doomed to doing the graveyard shift on godforsaken AM at a 5,000-watt piss-ant station in Andersonville, Indiana, where the highest rated program was the tornado report.

    At night and under the right conditions, however, the mega-signal of the Midwest can be heard for a thousand miles, and in the wee hours the depressed and the depraved gather on the broadcast doorstep of Gulliver McKnight to confide in his wisdom. Some call it a cult following; others call it a radio freak parade. At 3:16 a.m. on November 8th, Gulliver takes the tenth call, but the caller isn’t interested in the chicken dinner Gulliver is giving away. He’s into murder, and the killing goes back decades.

    It’s Julie Hernandez’s job (Julie’s a he, not a she) and Sam Olsen’s job (Sam’s a she, not a he) to stop this serial killer who’s found that calling in to Gulliver’s show is an interesting new way to get his jollies. The questions are: who is he, and how is he always the tenth call?