Into The Night (Killer Instinct)

by Cynthia Eden

  But Harwell started shaking his head halfway through Bowen’s explanation. “No, they’re just lost hikers. It’s tragic, but it happens. We get several missing each year.”

  “And that’s why you didn’t notice the killer.” Bowen was certain on this. “That’s why he slipped by undetected for so long. Because hikers do go missing, it happens, like you said. But these ten men...they’re all similar victim types. They stand out because the perp picked them specifically. They’re his targets.”

  The captain paled. “You...you’re serious?”

  “Dead serious.”

  His eyes squeezed shut. “The mayor will have a heart attack.”

  “Then you’d better get him to a fucking doctor...because we’ve got victims out in those mountains. Ten of them, so far.”

  * * *

  HE WAS SO THIRSTY.

  Curtis Zale licked his dry, busted lips, but the move did no good. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had more than a few sips of water to drink.

  Because the bastard is keeping me weak. Giving me just enough to live, but not enough water or food to get stronger.

  His hands were tied behind him. His feet were roped to the legs of the chair. Roped and—no, don’t think about it. Not now.

  He’d screamed until he was hoarse, but no one had come for him. No one had come to help him. His backpack was just a few feet away. Easy enough to see, but impossible to get. He had a knife in that pack. A knife, food...water. His whole damn life was in that pack.

  If he could get to it, he could survive.

  The SOB put it just out of my reach. He wanted to taunt me.

  How long had it been since Curtis had seen the bastard? One day? Two?

  More?

  So fucking thirsty. If he didn’t get a drink soon...

  How long could a person go without water?

  Maybe the prick wanted him to suffer a slow, torturous death. Maybe the guy got off on that. Curtis had just been walking, hiking, exploring the damn trail when he’d seen the guy. Just another day.

  But the day hadn’t ended like others. He’d been hit, slammed with a freakin’ hammer, of all things. Curtis had gone down and when he’d woken up...he’d been in the cabin. He’d been a prisoner.

  His body shuddered. For a moment, he wished that he had a family. That his wife would be looking for him. Or that his parents would be sending out a search party.

  But there was no family. There was no one to give a shit about him. Never had been.

  He’d been in the woods too long, but no one would know where to look for him. As he often did, he’d gone off on his own. Only this time...

  I’m going to die alone.

  The thought ripped through him and he tried to scream. But no sound emerged.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THERE WAS A “Missing” sign near the ranger station. It had taken longer than she’d wanted to reach that remote station. The mountain road had been treacherous and twisting, and her ears had popped as they’d gone higher and higher up the narrow road. There had been trees all around the road—and a deep plunge to nowhere that waited just past the old guardrails that lined the path.

  But now Macey stared at the rough, wooden sign, and her gaze trekked over the photos posted there. Men, women. Even a few teens...barely more than children. Their photos were tacked up along with notes from family members. People begging for information on those who’d vanished.

  Seeing those photos made her heart race faster because after reviewing more of the files, she’d become certain Bowen was right. The victims all shared too many similarities. They formed a perfect victim profile. Many serials had a type. Scary, but true.

  When dating, certain men preferred brunettes. Or redheads.

  Some women always fell for the guy who was tall, dark and handsome.

  And some killers...they had a preferred victim.

  Her hand rose and pressed to one of the photos. It was of Glen Young, age twenty-one. His mother had left a note.

  My Glen has been missing for a year. Please, please if you see him, get him to call his mother. I swear, I’m not mad any longer. I want him to come home.

  A number was below the photo.

  “Sad, aren’t they?”

  Macey looked back and saw a park ranger staring at her. His hair was a dark blond, his eyes a pale blue. His hands were on his hips as he studied her. No, not her—the sign. “Had a supervisor once who thought we should remove that but—” he shrugged “—removing the board takes away the family’s hope, you know? Their loved ones went missing here, so they pray they can be found here, too.”

  “You don’t sound like you have much faith in that happening.”

  The ranger shook his head. “Never seen one of the missing walk out of the woods. You go off the trail, you get lost, and it’s only a matter of time before you run out of food. Before the cold gets you. Or the animals do.” His gaze raked over her. “You’re Agent Macey Night, right?”

  Bowen approached behind the ranger. They were both of a similar height and build.

  The ranger looked back over his shoulder at Bowen. His head inclined. “Your partner said you two had some questions. Wanted me to come out here so the tourists wouldn’t listen in.” He put his hands on his hips. “So I know that can’t be good.”

  “Good has nothing to do with this,” Bowen murmured.

  No, it didn’t.

  “I’m Zack Douglas,” the ranger said. He offered Macey his hand.

  Her fingers closed around his. “Thanks for taking the time to talk with us today.” When he released her hand, Macey pulled a list of the ten profiled missing men—and their photos—from her bag. “We’d like for you to look at these men. Look and see if you recognize any of them.”

  He started thumbing through the photos. But then he looked back at her. “Course I recognize them... Most of these guys are on my board.”

  The board behind her.

  My board. “Did you talk to any of them? Learn where they were going? Did anything stand out in your mind about these individuals?”

  “I think we have most of their permits on file,” Zack mused. When he saw her frown, he said, “If you’re going backcountry hiking, you have to make a reservation and get a permit. They’re required for all overnight stays. Most of the guys—once I found out they were missing—I pulled their permits. A few didn’t have them, but, like I said, most did.” He glanced back at the photos. “I can give you the permits, but not a lot of information is on them.”

  Macey and Bowen shared a long look. “Those permits—did they outline where the hikers were going?”

  “Yeah...and the shelters or campsites that the hikers were hoping to use.”

  “That information would be extremely helpful.”

  “People don’t get it.” Zack sighed as he put his hands on his hips and looked out at the woods that surrounded the ranger station. “It’s beautiful up here, God’s country, but it’s dangerous. Streams swell, bridges wash out, trees fall down...and the bears, it’s their home, you know? You have to respect nature. You have to be prepared for it. We tell hikers that they shouldn’t try the longer, more dangerous trails if they don’t have experience.” A sad smile twisted his lips. “Some people just don’t want to listen, you know?”

  Her gaze slid back to the photos. “I know.”

  “Always tell people...make sure you triple-check your route. And be at your campsite before dark. Hiking in the dark can be downright deadly.”

  There were a few other things out there that could be deadly, too.

  “Can you take us out on the trail that most of these missing men used?” Bowen asked. “Our research has already shown us that they generally set out on one particular path.”

  Zack rubbed the back of his neck. “Setting out on the path is one thing...staying on the path is another. A few steps off, and then you’re lost. You don’t come back.”

  No, you didn’t.

  Especially not when you had help.


  “Let me make sure my post is covered, and then I’ll take you all out.” He turned and headed back to the small brown building. “I’ll pull up the permits on the computer.”

  Macey glanced up at the sky. It was just after one p.m. If the hikers had gone out too far, they wouldn’t be able to follow their full path. “There’s no way a search team can check the entire national park.”

  “No, but we’re not hitting the whole park.” Bowen had moved to her side. The ranger was a few feet away. “If these men were all heading for the same campsite—or hell, even if just five or six of them had the same campsite in mind—that’s where we need to go. I want to check it out. And I want to see if any particular visitor has gone to that site again and again over the years.”

  A visitor who could just be their killer.

  * * *

  CURTIS TWISTED HIS HANDS. Was he still bleeding? The rope had cut into his wrists, slicing deep into his skin. He didn’t think that he could feel his fingertips any longer.

  He rasped out a breath. He was so fucking thirsty. So—

  The door opened, a long slow crack of sound. His head lifted up and he blinked against the light that spilled through that doorway. The light fell around the man there—the man who wore the black ski mask.

  “Didn’t think I’d just leave you, did you?”

  Actually, that was exactly what he’d thought. That the bastard had left him to rot.

  Laughter rolled as the man stepped into the old cabin. And then he was right in front of Curtis. He lifted a water bottle and held it gripped in his gloved hands. The guy always wore gloves. Always had himself covered.

  Maybe...maybe that means he will let me go. Since I haven’t seen his face, maybe he’s planning to let me go. He knew hope always came to the desperate.

  The guy slowly untwisted the bottle cap and then he held that water near Curtis’s mouth. Curtis twisted and jerked his head forward, but he couldn’t get to the water. The son of a bitch held it just out of his reach.

  “You want it badly, don’t you? So badly. I bet you’d do just about anything...for a drink.”

  Wild, frantic, Curtis could only nod.

  That taunting laughter came again. “You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.”

  What was that supposed to even mean?

  But the water was pouring down, finally hitting his mouth because the guy in the ski mask had brought it closer to Curtis. He opened his mouth wide, greedily gulping the water down his parched throat. Curtis took and he took and the water hit his face and his shirt and he hated the waste. I want it all.

  “Even brought a special treat for you.” The guy tossed aside the now-empty bottle. It bounced on the floor. His captor pulled out a sandwich bag. A fucking sandwich! “Have some...”

  Curtis tore into the sandwich. His tongue was swollen, though, and his throat was still dry even though he’d had the water, so he almost choked on the bread.

  “That’s right, eat up. Because I’ve got big plans for you.”

  Curtis had big plans, too. He was going to escape. He was going to get to his pack. And he was going to drive his knife right into the bastard’s throat.

  * * *

  “THIS ISN’T A COME-ON...”

  Bowen glanced up at Zack’s words and saw that the ranger was staring at Macey. Staring a bit too hard at her.

  “But I swear,” Zack continued as he moved around the counter at the ranger station and slid to Macey’s side, “I’ve seen your face before.” His head tilted as he studied her. “Those eyes of yours are pretty unforgettable.”

  Bowen narrowed his own eyes.

  “Have we met?” Zack pressed.

  Macey’s gaze jerked toward Bowen.

  He wondered what his expression looked like. We’re on a murder investigation, and that’s totally a fucking come-on. The ranger needed to get his shit in check.

  “We haven’t met,” Macey replied. “Sorry.” Her gaze slid back to his computer. “Those files almost ready?”

  “Printing now.” But Bowen saw that the guy didn’t take his stare off Macey. “I know I’ve seen you before. Those eyes...they are really something.” Then he laughed, seeming to catch himself. “Though I’m guessing you get told that all the time.”

  Once more, her gaze darted to Bowen. This time, Zack followed her stare.

  Bowen crossed his arms over his chest. Move away from her, asshole. Move. Away.

  But the ranger didn’t get the hint. He turned back to Macey. “Are you sure—” he began.

  “A few years ago, my face was splashed in every paper along the East Coast. I was the only victim to get away from Daniel Haddox. He came after me—” her voice was flat, almost brittle “—because of my ‘unforgettable’ eyes.”

  Fury pumped through Bowen’s body.

  “That’s probably where you saw me,” she added, voice softer. “Because, no, as I said, I don’t think we’ve met before.”

  He didn’t back away. Didn’t apologize. If anything, his stare seemed to warm as he focused on her. Bowen moved closer to them. Back away, Ranger. Back away.

  “I wish we had met before.” Zack’s voice was gentle. Dick. “And I wish we were meeting under better circumstances now. Because I think you’re a very interesting woman, Special Agent Night.”

  “You like women who escape from killers?” Her words were crisp.

  “I like strong women. Smart woman. I think you’re both.”

  The printer beeped. Ranger Jackass finally turned away from her and snagged the papers that had just pushed from the machine. Then the guy was leaning over the counter as he pored over them. Looking for similarities, and Macey crowded in closer.

  Bowen didn’t like it when Macey got close to the guy.

  Shit. It’s getting personal. Hands-off. No strings.

  She looked back at Bowen.

  He wanted his hands on her.

  “Five of them were planning a brief stop at Rainbow Falls.” Zack glanced up at Bowen. “But you knew that, right?”

  Bowen inclined his head.

  “After Rainbow Falls, the trail keeps going up to the summit of Mount LeConte. That’s where they were supposed to be headed. The end goal.” He thumbed through the pages. “Actually, now that I think about it...there was a guy here, maybe three, four days ago? He was going on the same path.” Zack moved away and tapped on his computer again. “Right. Curtis Zale. He was heading up there, too.”

  “We need to get there,” Bowen said. He wanted to see that trail.

  But Zack glanced toward the windows. “Yeah, I don’t think you quite get how things work out here.” He rolled one shoulder. “Here’s a little rule to help you... In the Smokies, it takes hikers an hour to make it about 1.5 miles. Rainbow Falls? It’s 2.7 miles away—that’s one way. So say two hours to get there. That’s just to the falls. If you want to reach the summit, you’re looking at nightfall by the time you get to the top of Mount LeConte. And you two—you aren’t prepared for that kind of hike. Not today.” He drummed his fingers on the countertop. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow, at first light? I can take you out then. We’ll have enough time to get to the summit.”

  “We have gear in the truck,” Bowen told him. “And no, this isn’t my first hike. Macey and I will head up to Rainbow Falls. We need to see that scene today.” And they had just enough time to do it before the sun set, barely. They’d go up the full summit tomorrow, with the ranger. “The trailheads are marked, we’ll get there.”

  Because every moment counted. They had a killer out there—two killers, if he wasn’t mistaken. The bastard who’d been hunting hikers and the perp who’d made death into a game.

  “I’ll guide you,” Zack said quickly, “just like I promised.”

  “Then let’s get moving.” Because he didn’t want to waste any more daylight. Time was precious, and he had the sinking feeling that he was already far behind in this deadly race.

  * * *

  THE TRAIL WAS QUIET. Almo
st too quiet. Or at least, it seemed that way to Macey. Maybe she’d just spent too long in DC—too long surrounded by the sights and the sounds of the city. But the forest put her on edge. Her steps didn’t falter as she hiked. She and Bowen had both changed before heading to the ranger’s station. She wore jeans and a loose coat. Hiking boots. And she had her gun.

  Never leave home without it. Especially not after last night.

  “We’re turning up here,” Zack called out. “There’s a log foot bridge that crosses over the creek. Once we get past that, it won’t be much farther until we hit the falls.”

  He’d kept up a brisk, unrelenting pace, but Macey and Bowen had both followed him easily. She glanced around, trying to peer through the trees. So many trees. So many shadows. It was all too easy to imagine a lone hiker going through those woods, unaware that he was being watched.

  Hunted.

  Because predators didn’t always walk on four legs. The most dangerous predator...he walked on two.

  They passed another sign on the trail. “During times of high stream flow, Rainbow Falls Trail is impassable. Use Bullhead Trail.”

  Macey stilled, her foot near one of the large boulders that often seemed to line the side of the trail. “Is the Bullhead Trail as well traveled?”

  “Nah, not at all,” Zack told her. “Folks just use it when they have to do it—they’re going for the falls, you know? They don’t want to miss the view. Plenty more people use the Rainbow Falls Trail.”

  So if their killer was looking to isolate prey, he would be less likely to use the Rainbow Falls path...and more likely to focus on the Bullhead Trail. Because he has a better chance of not being spotted by anyone else. “Maybe the missing hikers were diverted.” She glanced around, trying to see through the trees. Thin trees, thick trees, twisting trees that seemed to wind into the sky. “Maybe they had to go off their original path because the stream was too high.” She could hear the flow of the water.

  Maybe it hadn’t even been the stream that had caused them to divert, though. Perhaps they changed routes because they had some help. The kind of help that had gotten them killed?