Spoilers.<br /><br />Eliza Dushku is Megan, a police officer in Rochester, New York, who is investigating a case of child rape and murder. The girl's name was something like Carlina Cacciatore and her body was dumped in Churchtown. Dushku fastens on to the CCC connection while everyone else pooh poohs it.<br /><br />The second victim turns up, something like Wilma Weinstein from Weber. Then there's a Penelope Purcell from Pipe Organ. Maybe there's a Marla Marple from Michigas in there too. I lost count. Ka-ching.<br /><br />This is too much for Dushku. She begins to crack up and hallucinate the dead little girls. She's not only taken off the case but shipped off to the hospital. Upon her release she spends two years in group counseling, led by the understanding, wheelchair-bound Timothy Hutton.<br /><br />Hutton isn't on screen that often. She goes to him for a few words of reassurance on those occasions when her hallucinations begin scratching at the door. If, by their third meeting, you haven't figured out that Hutton not only can walk but is the child-raping murderer to boot, you haven't seen enough movies of this genre.<br /><br />The plot is too ridiculous to describe further. The acting isn't in any way distinguished either. Dushku has modest talent. Cary Elwes and Michael Ironside must not be getting too many offers these days.<br /><br />The worst conceit is the ambiguous ending. The last shot is of Dushku strapped down in a mental hospital, completely ga ga, and then the epilogue -- the notorious alphabet killer has never been caught and remains at large -- thus clearing the way for a SEQUEL to this meretricious rubbish. Let's hope nothing comes of it or we'll all wind up in the rubber room with Megan.<br /><br />The only redeeming feature of the production is the sound of gunshots. They're not as loud as real gunshots but their sonic contours are similar.<br /><br />Nice job there. With the gunshots. The rest of the movie stinks. Want more proof? The alphabet connection is never explained, just plain dropped from the plot, a sensible but negligible inconvenience, like a trouser pocket full of too much heavy change.<br /><br />And another thing. No more heroines with names like Megan or Regan. Or cute names like Ally or Jillian either. An onomastic irritant.