by C. M. Sutter
He knelt at their door and, inch by slow inch, unzipped the tent and crawled in. He appreciated the fact that there was room to work. He pressed the button on the headlamp in short bursts of light to see where the ladies were positioned. Brittney lay to the far left, then Betsy, and Tara slept on the far right, facing the tent wall. He silently stepped to the right and knelt over Tara. With his fist balled tight and coiled back, he came forward with a violent thrust and coldcocked her in the face. She didn’t make a peep. John turned to his left, where Betsy lay, and waited for a minute. She grumbled in her sleep, flipped over, and pulled the sleeping bag halfway over her face. Only her eyes were exposed. He gave her the full thrust of his fist to the forehead, then he tiptoed to Brittney’s side. She rolled over, opened her eyes, and squinted when his light hit her in the face.
“What’s going on?” She abruptly sat up, now fully conscious. Fear and dread covered her face. “Tara, Betsy?” The sleeping bag held her prisoner as she tried to stand and flee. Brittney fell before she reached the door. With a fistful of her hair, John pulled her head back then bashed her face into the tent floor. She fell quiet along with the others.
“Good girl. Looks like it’s party time.”
John cracked his knuckles and neck then pushed Brittney aside and reached for the gloves. With the Neko Te carefully secured over his hands, he went to Tara first and sliced her open from forehead to pelvis. He watched as her blood spilled out and soaked the sleeping bag beneath her. He returned to Brittney, who lay facedown near the unzipped door. He bore down on her head with the claws and gouged the razors through her hair and scalp. He buried the claws in her back and dug in deeply. John pulled the claws through her muscle and ended at her ankles then flipped her over and repeated the process to her front side. Both girls would die soon from blood loss. He wanted to take his time with Betsy, but the thought of real bear investigating the scent of blood had him a bit nervous. There was still work to do before he disappeared into the night.
“Betsy, wake up.” He pulled off the gloves and slapped her face. “Wake up, damn you!” He shook her by the shoulders. She moaned. “Good, now open your eyes.”
“I can’t see. That light is blinding me. Why is my forehead pounding?”
“You’re going to die tonight, so lie still. I want to have some fun with you first.”
John covered her mouth with his enormous hand as she tried to fight him off. She flailed and kicked then bit him.
“You stupid bitch.” John swung his arm and slapped her hard across the face.
Betsy dove for the exit and scratched her way across the tent floor, but she couldn’t match his speed. John grabbed her leg and jerked her back in. When she made contact with her free leg and kicked him with everything she had, the jolt in the face stunned him. That fueled his anger even more. He laughed, threw her to the ground, and straddled her. She was pinned beneath his heavy body with nowhere to go. He pressed her into the floor with his knees then slipped the Neko Te back over his hands.
“Ready to join your friends? Here we go.”
With the claw of his index finger, John punctured the hollow at the base of her throat. Blood pumped out with each breath she took.
“How does that feel?” He watched with pleasure as her wide, terrified eyes began to roll back. “Let’s move on.” He slid farther down her body and dug in. He pulled with the claws and tore open her flesh and muscle as he went along. She twitched and moaned with each new slash until she fell silent. He smiled at the bloodied bodies strewn about the tent. “Sorry I didn’t have more time to spend with you, Betsy, but I have to work on the tent now.” John climbed out and stood under the stars, where the metallic scent of blood filled the night sky. He cracked his neck and shoulders, took a deep breath of crisp air, and began shredding the tent. With his needs met and the campsite destroyed to appear like a bear attack, John dismantled his own tent, changed clothes, loaded his gear, and disappeared into the woods.
Several hours after catching one short ride, John heard air brakes hiss in front of him, and the oversized tractor trailer rumbled to a stop. John jogged along the shoulder of the four-lane highway toward the big rig, and with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, he saw the driver staring back at him through the passenger-side mirror. Grasping the handrail, he climbed the first step and pulled the truck door open.
The driver sized him up then waved him in. “Need a ride?”
“I sure do. I’ve been walking for hours, and this pack is awfully heavy. Appreciate it, man.”
The trucker checked his side mirror, clicked the blinker, and pulled back onto the road. “Where are you headed?”
“Anywhere you’re going. I’m taking it one day at a time, meeting new friends, and seeing new sights.”
The trucker stuck out his hand. “I’m Ray Moore, and you are?”
“John Pratt’s the name, and it’s nice to meet you. Are you a long-haul driver, Ray?”
“Yeah, sure am. I started my day a few hours back, just south of Branson. I’m headed to the Detroit area.”
“Sounds good. I know people up north. Mind if I tag along for the duration?”
“Not at all. The company will help keep me awake. You can toss your bag in the back. That footwell is small for a guy your size.”
John nodded and heaved his pack and his baseball cap into the sleeper behind him. “I used to be an over-the-road driver.”
“No kidding? What was your route?”
“My weekly route took me from Arkansas to Arizona.” He chuckled. “I hauled pet supplies.”
“Yep, there’s a huge pet supply headquarters just outside Phoenix along I-10.”
“That’s the one.”
Good thing I listened to the last trucker’s yammering before I killed him. At least I had a vehicle to drive and a bed to sleep in for a few days.
“John?”
“Oh, sorry, my mind drifted off. What did you say?”
“I asked where you came from?”
“Most recently the Little Rock area. I’m just traveling and checking out the scenery with no particular place in mind.”
“Sounds like a nice life.”
John grinned. “And it keeps getting better. I can take over driving too whenever you get tired.”
“Humph, I just might take you up on that.”
Chapter 3
Amber and I sat at the table and enjoyed our undisturbed Saturday morning breakfast. That in itself was something to be thankful for. I wasn’t called in on a case yet, and it was nine a.m. It could turn out to be a relaxing weekend after all. The house smelled like bacon, coffee, and pure maple syrup, heavenly scents on their own, but mixed together, that was something I could linger in forever.
“Want another pancake?”
“Sure, if there’s batter left. How about more bacon too?”
Amber grinned in my direction. “Coming right up.”
I watched my sister in her element. Amber loved to cook. The kitchen was her happy place. Her skills there came from our mom, and I was thankful for that. God knew my kitchen skills consisted of punching in the time on the microwave and hitting Start.
I got up, poured another round of coffee, and flipped the sizzling bacon. Five minutes later, we were both seated and starting our second serving of food.
Amber turned the page in the morning paper and stopped on an article that apparently caught her attention.
“Whatcha reading? Something must be interesting.” I’d cleared the table and returned to my seat, cradling the warm coffee cup between my hands.
“It says there’s been a surge of bear maulings in Arkansas over the last week.”
“Damn urban sprawl. Are they coming into people’s yards?”
“No, it sounds like they’re hitting campers in the state parks.”
“Wow. That ought to put a damper on hiking and camping until they find that rogue bear.”
“Not a rogue bear, Jade. These parks aren’t even close to each other.”
“That’s really weird. I wonder if there’s a shortage of natural food out there so that they’re becoming more dependent on humans and entering campsites. People as a whole are pretty ignorant, though. You know the type, weekend campers that have never used a hand-crank can opener in their life. The food is probably sitting out alongside the tent with a ‘help yourself’ sign next to it. Still, I thought bear were more timid unless they had cubs.”
“Yeah, I thought the same. So far, in two different parks, four people have died.”
“Oh my God, that’s horrible. What are the rangers doing about it?”
Amber shrugged. “It says they’ve advised campers to be watchful of their surroundings, hang food, keep bear deterrent handy, or stay out of the parks altogether until the situations are resolved.”
“Short of killing off the bear population, I wonder how they’ll resolve it. I mean, people go out to enjoy nature at its finest, yet they’re in the environment of wild animals. There are bear and mountain lions in a lot of parks. It’s their home.”
I crossed the family room and clicked the remote then changed the channel to CNN. Spaz snuggled between Amber and me on the couch. Relaxing with a cup of coffee in front of the TV on a Saturday morning was something I hadn’t gotten used to yet, but I intended to try. I’d indulge in an hour of catching up with local and world news, then the television would go off, and my weekend chores would begin.
“Check it out,” Amber said as she placed her coffee cup on the side table and gave the TV her full attention. “The newscaster is talking about the recent bear attacks.”
“Turn it up,” I said.
The CNN anchor described the latest incident. “Yet another disturbing bear attack has taken place just this morning. Earlier today, a hiker discovered a grisly scene in Lake of the Ozarks State Park. Paul Creighton, a twenty-five-year-old computer technician and avid hiker, stumbled upon what looked to be a bear mauling. According to Paul’s account, he saw what he believed to be three female victims and a destroyed campsite. He called the nearest ranger station immediately and waited for their arrival. This latest incident falls on the heels of bear attacks in DeGray Lake Resort and Bull Shoals-White River State Parks, both in Arkansas. Rangers in Arkansas and Missouri are puzzled and calling in wildlife experts.”
“That would make seven victims if this hiker’s account is correct. Maybe there’s rabid bear roaming the southern Midwest.” My phone rang on the breakfast bar as the broadcast went to a commercial. “Happy Saturday, J.T. What’s up?”
“Morning, Jade. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news on a Saturday morning, but I just got word that we need to travel. Wheels up at eleven thirty.”
“Okay, no problem.” I glanced at the clock and mentally calculated how much time I had before the garage door would be hitting my backside. I had thirty minutes before I’d have to leave. “What’s the case?”
“Have you heard anything about the recent bear attacks?”
“Well, sure, but why would we be called in?” I almost half-jokingly blurted out something about serial bear attacks but knew it was inappropriate. Instead, I waited for his response.
“There was another attack just this morning. Apparently, the local coroner, experts on animal attacks, and plenty of rangers and police officers are on-site as we speak.”
I nodded to Amber when she picked up my cup to refill it. “Right, I just saw breaking news on TV about it.”
“I’ll explain everything on the flight to Missouri, but what I’ve just learned from Spelling is that the investigators found a claw at the site. They’re securing the area until we get there.”
“Bear can lose their claws?”
He sighed through the phone line. “No, they can’t. Especially not razor-sharp metal ones.”
It took a second for me to process what J.T. was getting at, but now it made perfect sense. That was how the killings took place in parks so far apart. They were committed by a person, not a bear. I groaned. “Neko Te.”
“Excuse me?”
“Neko Te. They’re either tips you slide over your own fingers or a full, deadly glove-like apparatus. They’re Japanese weapons originally used by ninjas. They’re no joke, J.T.”
“How do—”
“I’ve been involved in martial arts for years. I’ve never seen an actual Neko Te, but I have in photographs. I know the Japanese names and terminology for all of those torture and killing devices. Picture the sharp claws on the gloves Freddy Krueger wore in the Nightmare on Elm Street slasher movies.”
“Yeah, okay. That was a Neko Te?”
“I’m afraid so, except more of a glorified movie version of one. Somebody is trying to throw everyone off track by instilling fear of wild, bloodthirsty bear roaming the parks. I’ll admit, it’s pretty clever. Hide in plain sight and kill women that look like easy targets. What better opportunity than to have an entire park of wilderness trails to stalk your prey in, and then let people assume wild animals did the deed. All right, I’ll gather my things and head out. I’ll meet you at the plane in an hour.”
I changed clothes, brushed my teeth, and grabbed my go bag. After saying goodbye to my birds, Spaz, and Amber, I headed to the FBI’s private hangar at Mitchell Field on the south side of Milwaukee.
After a two-hour flight, our jet arrived at Lee C. Fine Memorial Airport at one thirty. The ride from the airport to the park was a few short minutes. A deputy from the local sheriff’s department met us on the tarmac.
“Agents.” He stuck out his hand and shook ours. “I’m Lenny Stulman from the Camden County Sheriff’s Department. I’ve been asked to escort you to the scene.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Lenny, given the circumstances. I’m Agent Jade Monroe, and my partner is Agent J.T. Harper. We appreciate your assistance.” I tipped my head toward the cruiser. “Shall we?”
“Yes, ma’am. The park is only five minutes away then a mile hike back to the scene.”
“So the location is remote?” J.T. raised a brow as we climbed into the car.
“Yes, sir, off the beaten path, so to speak. The campsite the ladies chose, although unfortunate, was in a beautiful, secluded clearing on the edge of the woods. It was quite a distance from the public parking lot and cabins. Now, it’s nothing more than a gruesome crime scene.”
I powered my phone back on. “I’m sure it is. I bet it was the perfect location for the killer, though.”
Deputy Stulman turned in to the state park entrance and greeted the guard at the shack. The guard raised the arm that crossed the driveway and waved us through.
Lenny pointed at a trailhead at the end of the parking lot. “I’ll park near that path. It’s the trail that will get us the closest to the campsite area.”
J.T. acknowledged the comment and thanked Lenny. With our go bags left in the trunk, we exited the parked cruiser and followed the deputy up the trail. The trailhead started out wide and smooth since it was used quite a bit. As we got farther into the thick woods, the trail narrowed to nothing more than a twenty-inch-wide path. Once we reached the halfway point, several deputies stood along the path where it was blocked with yellow tape stretched between two trees. I gave Lenny a questioning look.
“We didn’t close the park, ma’am. Too time intensive, and we have no idea how many other people are enjoying the off-trail areas. The lieutenant figured it would be best to keep our focus on the site and close off a half-mile perimeter around the crime scene. That will keep hikers and looky-loos away.”
Voices in the distance from the main campsites had now faded into wooded solitude. The only sounds were from animals skittering by and an occasional bird calling out. I wondered how something so beautiful and pristine could hold such a horrific scene just beyond the next hill. After crossing a narrow creek with slippery tumbled rocks and climbing over a steep grade, we arrived at the top of a tree-lined ridge. Lenny pointed below, where the trees and the valley met.
“It’s down there in the clearing. Ten more m
inutes, agents.”
I stopped, shielded my eyes, and took a look at our surroundings and what lay below. I snapped off a few pictures with my phone to take in this vantage point.
“Lenny, has anyone searched the area yet?”
“So far, just fifty yards in each direction of the site, ma’am.”
J.T. pulled a twig out of my hair and gave me a thoughtful smile. I cracked open the water bottle Deputy Stulman had provided each of us and took a swig. We continued on.
We reached the scene where a lieutenant, two detectives, and a handful of deputies from the sheriff’s department were spread out over the area. The county medical examiner and several people from the forensics lab worked at the remains of the tent, where the bodies still lay. Several police officers that were called in from Osage Beach looked to be searching the surrounding meadow and woods. Thankfully, everyone was gloved. Lenny made the introductions, and I asked to see the claw that was found. Lieutenant Adam Taft led us to what remained of the tent. Inside, we saw the shape of three bodies, already covered with tarps. The forensics team had a portable table set up with several items bagged. The ME sat on a rock and went over her notes while J.T. and I spoke to the forensics team.
“May I see the claw that was discovered?”
John Keys, the lead forensic investigator, handed me a set of gloves. “Over here, Agent Monroe.”
I opened the Ziploc bag. “May I?”
He nodded, and I reached in and pulled out a single three-inch-steel blade, shaped like a bear claw and razor sharp on both sides. I jerked my head for J.T. to check it out.
“So that’s a Neko Te?”
“Well, it’s part of a Neko Te hand covering. This isn’t an individual finger sleeve. It actually looks like it popped off the main glove, likely from the force of his attack.”
“Would he wear gloves under the covering?” Lieutenant Taft asked as he joined us.
“I’d say normally yes, unless his prints aren’t in the system. The person wearing the device often wears thin, sturdy gloves to keep from accidentally cutting themselves and to keep the device from slipping. Also, if they’re taking the device on and off, the gloves would conceal their fingerprints. But when the Neko Te is worn, the perpetrator’s fingertips are facing out, not toward the Neko Te, anyway.”
