Daniel Barnes (Alan Alda) is the small-town police chief of a quiet New England community, a role that sits against a backdrop of personal complication. His life is further entangled by a discreet romance with local motel owner Mrs. Tate (Patricia Quinn), a relationship she hopes will become more permanent, while he scrambles to keep their affair private from prying eyes and the town's gossip mill. In this seemingly serene setting, a darker pattern is unfolding: a killer is targeting the town’s elderly residents, striking with chilling precision.
As a string of deaths rocks the community, the investigators uncover a curious link among the victims: each had graduated from the local high school in 1928. This discovery transforms the case from a murky series of random acts into a tightly wound puzzle connected to a very specific cohort. Barnes teams up with Blanche (Louise Lasser), the efficient and observant town police receptionist, and together they pore over the 1928 yearbook, hoping to spot a hidden thread that would single out a suspect. The small size of the Class of ’28 becomes the crucial clue, narrowing the field of possible targets to a handful of people who might harbor a motive.
The hunt intensifies as Barnes travels to the isolated homes of potential victims. An early confrontation nearly turns fatal when his police cruiser is rammed by another car, a ferocious reminder that the killer is watching and capable of striking at any moment. Barnes escapes into the woods, then circles back to the secluded house of the Yettas, only to find them already dead. The danger feels personal, and the town begins to grasp that someone from within their own circle could be responsible.
Calmer heads weigh in as coroner Lemuel Lovell (Will Geer) and his daughter Doc Lovell (Dorothy Tristan) develop a theory that adds a disturbing technological twist to the proceedings. They propose that the murderer is using a modified defibrillator to induce heart attacks, a method that would let someone target victims with surgical precision while remaining unseen. With the pool of suspects narrowed by the yearbook’s clues, the investigation zeroes in on a surviving member of the Class of 1928: Justin Oates (Edmond O'Brien). Oates had recently been a guest at Mrs. Tate’s motel, a detail that ties him into the web of relationships that define this town.
Barnes sets a calculated trap for Oates, and the plan unfolds as the killer takes the bait. When Oates is finally apprehended, the file on the case begins to close around a harrowing revelation: Oates endured traumatic humiliation at a surprise birthday party for his 17-year-old fiancée, where she was discovered frolicking naked with another classmate. That moment of exposure, years in the making, becomes the catalyst for the violence that has haunted the town. The emergence of this motive helps Barnes understand the pattern behind the killings and explains why the Class of 1928 remains a target.
With the criminal in custody, Barnes contemplates the future of his own life in this small town. There is a tempting job offer from a nearby town that promises a significant pay raise, a prospect that would make it easier for him to settle down with Mrs. Tate and her children. Yet he ultimately decides to turn down the offer and remains where his loyalties lie, choosing to stay. He also reflects on the possibility of marrying Blanche, weighing the stability of a longer-term commitment against the pull of his current complicated situation.
In the end, the story weaves together a suspenseful, methodical whodunit with the intimate textures of small-town life. It explores how past humiliations can plant seeds of violence that resurface years later, and how a dedicated investigator can untangle a complex trail of clues—one that connects a single class, a handful of relationships, and a town forced to confront the darkness that quietly brews beneath its surface. The result is a patient, atmospheric thriller that sticks to its moral center while revealing the human costs of secrets kept and secrets kept too long.
