by Hood, D. K.
The beam of his flashlight moved to the chest freezer, and Wolfe moved closer to examine the dark stains on one side. It was as if something had spilled over the edge and run down the sides, leaving a sticky mess on the floor. He moved closer and examined the deep cherry pool. More fake blood? He pressed his mic. “Webber. I’ve found something. I’m opening the freezer.”
“Roger that.” Webber’s voice came through his earpiece and seemed to echo from his position at the top of the steps.
Wolfe holstered his weapon and attempted to lift the freezer lid without success. He placed the flashlight between his teeth and, steeling himself for what may be inside, dragged open the lid a few inches. As he bent to peer inside the crack, the lid sprang open and a figure sat bolt upright.
Surprised, the flashlight slipped from Wolfe’s mouth, bounced across the floor, and went out. In complete darkness, he hit the floor and rolled away, drawing his weapon. “Shit!”
Thirty-One
He peered over a boulder on the top of the small ridge overlooking the Old Mitcham Ranch and smiled. The old backroads had cut the distance from the highway in half and made for a fast getaway. Even so, the view through his scope had been worth the risk of running into the sheriff and her posse. He’d watched her move her men around like chess pieces across the board he’d created. He’d waited patiently to see their reactions to his art—and it was art. He wondered if they would’ve enjoyed watching the shocked faces of the men he’d mutilated as much as he had. The way they’d run around in panic as the girl bled out made him chuckle. They’d tried to save her and hadn’t seen him coming. The moment they laid eyes on him they’d sealed their fate. They’d acted tough, throwing out threats as if they could manipulate him. He laughed at the memory. They couldn’t escape—no one ever escaped—and after a few well-placed shots, they’d have strangled their own mothers to get away from him.
He didn’t hear pleas, promises, or prayers; in fact, the more they tried to reason with him, the more pain he needed to inflict. Seeing people die made his memories go away. It was as if each one ticked a box on an imaginary list of things to do. If the cops ever caught him, he’d have difficulty remembering all his kills. At the time, it was like watching himself from afar, as if he hadn’t cut the girl’s throat or used an ax to remove body parts. By tomorrow, he’d forget them, only remembering them like a person would recall a slice of excellent pie or a strong cup of their favorite coffee.
He’d enjoyed this kill. It made up for Robinson. He took no immediate pleasure from a quick kill, and the exhilaration seemed delayed, coming later in a rush of technicolor images as he rode on an adrenalin high. He’d once thought everyone was like him but discovered being able to walk right up to a person and kill them was a gift. He’d gotten close to his targets with ease. No one ever questioned what he was doing, or why he was there. Why? Because he walked into every store, business, restaurant, or home as if he belonged there.
He cast one last look over the porch, seeing everything as he’d left it. It was his donation to the curse of the Old Mitcham Ranch, and it would outshine all the others. He could see the headlines now: Mass Murderer Commits Halloween Mayhem. Yeah, I’d like that.
Thirty-Two
Kane had his own ideas about the killer. He may not be a hotshot behavioral analyst, but he’d profiled murderers with success for some time. The current random killings, with no rhyme or reason to them, sent chills down his back. The unpredictability made the case difficult, and the pace the killer was escalating had exceeded all his expectations. He’d studied the behavior of many psychopaths and rarely did their condition fit into a neat little box. They all had different types of mental health conditions mixed into their psyche, which meant they were always dealing with an unknown quantity.
He followed close behind Jenna, constantly scanning the area. The old bunkhouse had been empty, with no recent sign of habitation. They reached the back door of the ramshackle house and Wolfe’s voice came through his earpiece.
“We need backup. In the cellar.”
“On our way.” Jenna pressed her mic and, weapon drawn, ran up the back steps.
Kane followed and near gagged on the stench. He batted away swarms of flies and took in the scene. In the small pantry, Webber was against the wall weapon drawn. Before Jenna could speak, Kane hit his mic. “Wolfe. What’s happening?”
“Not sure. I’ve lost my flashlight. Someone was hiding in the freezer. The light’s out. I can’t see a darn thing down here.”
“Did you take a look?” Jenna glared at Webber.
“No, ma’am.” Webber’s cheeks flushed. “Shane told me to keep back and guard the door.”
“Kane, get down there.” Jenna met his gaze. “I’ll have your back.” She looked at Webber. “Watch the back door. I don’t want any surprises.”
Kane turned on his Maglite and found Wolfe leaning up against a wall, weapon drawn. He moved the beam around and found the freezer. He lifted the light up, taking in the spilled blood, and winced. Inside the freezer sat a grotesque mannequin, white-faced with black eye sockets. Seeing a dummy coming out of the freezer in the dark would’ve startled him after seeing the carnage on the porch. “Clear. Hold tight, Shane.” He turned to Jenna. “It’s all part of the show.” He indicated behind her. “There’s a box of lightbulbs on the shelf behind you. Hand me one and we’ll get some light down there.”
After fixing the light, Kane headed down the rickety steps. Wolfe was shaking his head over the Halloween display. Kane walked up to him and slapped him on the back. “Now that’s just plain nasty.”
“I must’ve stepped on the pressure pad.” Wolfe shut the lid of the freezer. “Watch this.”
The lid moved and a white, blood-soaked hand slipped out the crack. The next moment the freezer opened and the mannequin sat up, making a hissing sound. Kane pushed the lid down and shook his head. “Whoever set this up has collected crimes from all over Black Rock Falls. These aren’t memories I want to revisit.” He turned to see Jenna standing behind him.
“When you two have stopped playing with the exhibits, we have victims to attend to.” Jenna turned and headed back up the stairs. “Get suited up. I’ll meet you out front.” She used her com. “Rowley, it’s all clear here. We’re moving outside now. Hold your position.”
“Jenna.” Wolfe followed her up the steps. “Wait, we’ll use the front door. I’ll take a quick look at the murder scene then I’ll be starting in the kitchen. I’ll be taking shots of the hands on the table and bagging them. There’s a blood-spattered, balled-up jacket under the kitchen table—it may have some ID inside. I’d say the killer used it to carry the hands from the porch.” He tossed Webber his keys. “I’ll need my van.”
“Yes, sir.” Webber headed down the back stairs at a run.
They suited up, gloves, masks, and booties. Kane eased open the front door and pushed all his emotions to the darkest reaches of his mind. The porch resembled a typical Halloween scene until he took in masses of insects crawling over the corpses. As he moved outside, the smell of death was as thick as fog. The killer had secured the four male bodies to chairs with wide black tape. Some of the men had hands missing but their clothes were intact. Each had gunshot wounds to the head. The young woman, who he recognized as Ruby, sat in the middle surrounded by a pool of blood. In the crimson puddle floated a black feather disturbed only by a trail of bloody cat footprints leading away to the edge of the porch. He turned to Jenna and pointed. “The cat was here.”
“So, I see.” Jenna lifted one shoulder. “Go figure.”
Kane went back to examining the scene. One man, with gray hair, sat in his shirtsleeves; beside him on the floor was a Glock 22 with the clip removed. He searched around and spotted the clip in the grass below the porch railing. He stood to one side to allow Wolfe to conduct a preliminary examination and moved to Jenna’s side. “I’m finding it hard to believe this is the work of one man. If so, he is out of control.”
“Or just e
njoying himself.” She peered at him over the top of her mask and then turned to Wolfe. “What have we got, Shane?”
“The woman is the central figure. The killer brought her here and secured her to the chair. I’d say when the men were asleep, so sometime last night.” Wolfe glanced over at the trailers and then back to the crime scene. “The incision to the neck is post-mortem, and from the angle I’d have to assume the killer used his left hand. This ties him to the Robinson case.” He looked at Kane. “Assuming you’re correct about the shooting.”
“It makes sense—a killer wouldn’t juggle his weapon to turn on a light.” Kane frowned. “He’s either left-handed or ambidextrous.”
Wolfe nodded. “The laceration to the throat is all the proof I need.” He turned back to Ruby’s body. “The female victim has a puncture wound to the thigh. The killer nicked the femoral artery and then hid close by. He knew where to put his wound, which also indicates he has some knowledge of anatomy or was trained to kill.” He looked at them. “If he used her for bait, he’d have brought her around and she would’ve screamed for help. The men came running. From the first aid kit on the floor, someone tried to stop the bleeding. They wouldn’t have been too anxious to call 911 because the wound is so small.” He glanced at Jenna. “Maybe they believed it would be quicker to drive her to the ER once they’d stopped the bleeding.”
Kane stared at the scene. “Yeah, I agree.”
“How did he get the jump on four men, with one of them armed?” Jenna stared around her and then looked back at Kane. “There are two flashlights on the ground, they would have seen the killer.”
Kane surveyed the immediate area. “There are tons of places here to lie in wait at night. The killer waited for them to concentrate on the girl, came out of hiding, and pointed his rifle at them; he’d have had the drop on them.” He moved onto the porch, stepping carefully around the blood spatter. “He takes out a knee on the guy with the gun to show them he means business and then orders them to tie each other up.”
“Then he has his fun.” Jenna frowned. “All the while, Ruby is bleeding out.” She looked at Kane. “It could be any number of killers. One man doing this much damage in one night seems a bit far-fetched.”
“No, it’s not.” Wolfe straightened from examining the gaping gash on Ruby’s neck. “It’s possible. We don’t know how much time he had, do we? Once I establish the time of death, we’ll have a better timeframe to work with.”
Kane bent and peered at the feather. “Three crime scenes and black feathers at each one. This is a signature. It means something to the killer.”
“I’ve established the feathers come from crows.” Wolfe frowned. “It’s also the name of a local tribe of Native Americans. It might be significant, a message perhaps.”
“I’ll speak to Atohi.” Jenna’s lips flattened into a thin line. “Although he’s kind of tied up with the cold case murder. I hear the excavation is going well but there’s no sign of another skeleton.”
“The boy’s father could’ve buried them apart or wildlife could’ve scattered the remains. It will be some time before Dr. Bates finishes up there.” Wolfe pulled out his phone and took shots of the crime scene. “I’d like to send these to Jo to compare with the crimes in Baltimore. You don’t have to ask for her help, Jenna, but with this type of killer, we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”
Kane frowned. “Jo Blake is a behavioral analyst, a fancy name for a profiler. What can she bring to the table?”
“I’m not questioning your skills, Dave.” Wolfe looked perturbed. “Not at all. It’s that she had similar cases in Baltimore and there’s been others. The FBI’s codename for the Baltimore killings was the Chameleon Killer and he left black feathers at the scene. It’s too much of a coincidence. From what I’m seeing, it could be the same killer or killers.”
“Okay, so you want her here in an advisory position and not to take over and stamp all over our investigation.” Kane shrugged. “What do you say, Jenna?”
“Will she be coming with her team?” Jenna balled her hands on her hips. “How many?”
“I’m not sure… only two of them, I believe, if she has located her detective. She was trying to locate Ty Carter but he’s off the grid. She needs him to fly the chopper.”
The name ignited a memory in Kane’s head. “He’s a loose cannon. Headstrong, works alone. I can’t see him agreeing to work in a team or taking much notice of a behavioral analyst. He’s a seat-of-your-pants type of guy.”
“Do you know him?” Jenna looked concerned.
Kane shook his head. “Only by reputation.”
“I know both of them.” Wolfe smiled at Jenna. “You’ll find Jo easy to get along with but she’s as tough as nails, so don’t underestimate her. Trust me, Kane, you’ll be able to keep Ty Carter in line.”
“I guess if it’s the same killer, and she’s been hands-on with his previous cases, she’ll be able to help.” Jenna glanced at Kane and shrugged, then looked back at Wolfe and nodded. “Okay, give her another call and bring her in on the case. So long as you’re sure they won’t pull the FBI card and use it to railroad us.”
“You have my word.” Wolfe pulled out his phone. “I’ll call her now.”
Thirty-Three
Snakeskin Gully, Montana
Annoyed by the lack of response to her messages and calls to Ty Carter, Jo Blake had called into the Snakeskin Gully Sheriff’s Department to ask for assistance to locate him. It seemed when an off-the-grid ex-Navy Seal didn’t want anyone to find him, he became invisible. The sheriff had insisted he take her to Carter’s last known location and they’d left at once. The sheriff’s cruiser, a massive SUV, bumped over a rocky path. Along the way, she’d kept vigilant and scanned the area, trying to memorize the turns they had taken, but the highway had soon become dirt roads leading into a dense forest. After reading the serial killer reports coming out of Black Rock Falls, being with a complete stranger in the middle of nowhere pushed her fear factor to maximum. “How much further?”
“Well, Last Chance Falls is at the end of this road. From there I guess we go on foot and look around for a cabin.” Sheriff Cage Walker’s mouth turned up at the corners. “You sure you’re cut out for small-town life?”
“I don’t really have a choice.” Jo looked at his honest face and soft brown eyes. “I go where I’m needed.”
“I haven’t had more than a dispute over a fence since I became sheriff, and that’s near two years now.” Cage shrugged. “I’m not sure why the FBI decided we need a field office here.”
The images Wolfe had sent through earlier spilled across her mind. “I guess they picked somewhere central, with a spare building for us to set up shop in.”
“Maybe.” Cage pulled the cruiser to a halt. “There’s the falls— his place can’t be too far away.”
Jo frowned. “He owns a mess of land up here but I couldn’t find a cabin on Google Earth.”
“It’s unlikely you would.” Cage chuckled. “Not many come this way to map the forest.” He gave her a long look. “You do know about the wildlife around these parts? You wouldn’t want to find yourself in a showdown with a grizzly.”
Annoyed, Jo stared at him. “Yeah, I’m aware. I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me if it hadn’t been so urgent.”
“I’m happy to help out at any time.” Cage slid from behind the wheel and pulled up his collar. “Looks like there’s a trail into the forest. Watch your step; it’s been snowing and underfoot is icy.”
Jo swallowed her first reply and nodded. “Yeah, we have snow where I come from too. Can’t we drive? The trail looks wide enough.”
“I don’t make a habit of driving onto people’s property without permission.” Cage frowned at her. “Walking up nice and slow, so they can see who you are, and yelling out will keep you safer.”
“Hmm.” Jo touched the Glock snug inside her shoulder holster under her jacket. She shivered. It was so cold and she wasn’t handling the mountain
temperatures at all. “So they shoot first and ask questions later around here?”
“If they’ve posted a notice, yeah.” Cage grinned at her. “A might different than the big city, huh?”
Jo shook her head. “Not at all but in the big city they don’t post notices, they just shoot you. Sometimes because you’ve looked at them the wrong way or they want your shoes.” She slipped on the uneven surface and he grabbed her arm to steady her.
“You might want to buy a pair of hiking boots.” Cage eyed her footwear. “The produce store carries a good range and you’ll need snow gear too. You won’t survive here unless you bundle up.” He took out a pair of binoculars and scanned the area. “I see smoke. The cabin must be straight ahead.”
Jo stumbled after him, realizing designer boots might look great but didn’t stop the bitter cold. After three strides she couldn’t feel her toes. They’d walked for ten minutes before the cabin came into view. Tucked into the side of the mountain, it was barely visible, but the signposts along the way warning the owner would shoot trespassers on sight had gotten her attention. She paused at the stairs to the porch and raised her voice. “Hello, inside. I’m Agent Blake, FBI. I’m looking for Ty Carter.”
“You found him.” A deep, masculine voice came from inside.
Relieved, Jo moved to the bottom step. “It’s Jo Blake from the field office at Snakeskin Gully. We need to talk.”
The front door opened a crack and she made out a tall figure inside. “I thought you were a man.”
Jo held her ground. “Well, you were obviously mistaken.”
“Mornin’, Cage.” Carter stepped to the door.
Jo swung around and gaped at Cage in surprise. “You know him? Why didn’t you say?”
“You didn’t ask if I knew him, you asked if I knew where he lived.” Cage leaned against a tall pine. “I’ve never visited him before now.”
