by Unknown
The back wall was lined with trophies, carefully arranged on shelves he’d built himself. There were a few animals that had been worthy of a taxidermist. The rare cougar that had been feeding off his catches while they were still in the traps. The feral pig that had taken two bullets and still managed to slice his leg with its tusks before dropping. The gray wolf that had eluded him for damn near a year before he’d finally tracked it down. The coyote that had attempted to chew its leg off to free itself from the trap. In most respects, animals were far more cunning than humans.
But there had been a few worthy specimens. Several jars lined the shelves with trophies he’d taken from those who had made a contest of the hunt. His gaze lingered for a moment on the empty jar in the center that should have contained the heart of Danny Saxon. The former sheriff had been a wily opponent. The healed gunshot wound in Boone’s side was evidence of that. But his triumph had been spoiled when he’d slit the man open and discovered his adversary had been sick. Real sick, from the looks of his liver. The yellowness of his skin should have been a giveaway. What would have been his crowning achievement had turned anti-climatic. It had taken long months for Boone to fully regain his strength after his injury. He’d used the time to plot his next contest.
The hank of hair he’d taken from the woman was tied with fishing twine and draped over a nail protruding from the center shelf. She’d been much too easy to ambush; one reason he never targeted females. They never made a challenge of it. But she’d been faster than he’d expected, and damned if she hadn’t grazed him in the shoulder. He could have gutted her for that act alone, as she lay bleeding and unconscious in the snow. But that would have been self-defeating. Because the woman was a tool, and she was going to be instrumental in setting up his next competition. One with the worthiest adversary yet. It’d be the best test of his skills so far, and his eagerness to begin burned like a fever in his blood.
Boone stroked a finger down the silky red-gold strands for good luck before striding toward his captive. Contempt filled him when the man cried out and cowered at his approach. Like a dog, beaten too many times by its master. Domestication did that, to animals and people. And while it was unlikely he’d ever meet anyone as unfettered by social mores as he was, very soon now he’d take on the best the state had to offer.
He drew a key out of the pocket of his Carhartts and reached up to unlock the man’s handcuffs, turning away indifferently when his captive fell to the concrete floor. Going to one of the shelves, he retrieved the man’s clothes and crossed back to drop them before him. “Put these on. You’re leaving.”
His head jerked up, disbelief warring with hope in his expression. “I need help. I need a doctor.”
“So get your clothes on and go find one.”
Leaving the man to dress, the trapper went to the garage door on the rear of the structure and pressed the button to raise it. Night fell early in February. The property sat on thirty acres and was heavily wooded, which made it seem even darker. He waited impatiently for his captive to get to his feet and stumble toward him before hesitating in the open doorway. “Keep going. A doctor lives on the next property. Just through those trees there.” When the man made no movement, Boone felt a flare of impatience. “Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe you aren’t as anxious to leave as I thought.” His lone step forward was all the impetus his captive needed. He began running in a lurching clumsy gait for the cover of the trees beyond.
It wouldn’t be sporting to watch the direction he took, so Boone withdrew into the building. He’d stripped his Carhartts to his waist earlier while he worked, and he drew them up now, zipped them and pulled gloves and a facemask out of his pockets. It was colder than a lumberjack’s dick out there.
Next he went to his weapon bench, took a couple minutes to consider before taking down his crossbow. He selected only two arrows, because if he needed more to bring down that sorry specimen, he’d give up all his weapons for good.
He fixed a miner’s hat over his stocking mask, turned on the light’s tab, and—bow and arrows in hand—followed his former guest out of the building and into the woods.
Hunting time.
Chapter 2
The room was silent when Keira finished speaking. She sat back, giving her deputies time to digest the results she’d gotten in DC two days ago. God knew she was still struggling to accept it herself.
Brody Boyle was the least senior deputy and usually worked nights. He spoke first. “I don’t know, Keira. That sounds a bit far-fetched, don’t it?” He glanced at the deputies on either side of him. “I mean yeah, I can see how maybe Danny met a bad end. Came up on somebody doing something illegal. Seems like he might’ve got himself shot in that case, but the killer sure wouldn’t stick around to cut out his liver. Less you think the bear did that, too.” He gave a short laugh that dwindled to a cough when no one else joined in.
“Try not to be a dumbass.” Mary Jacobs didn’t spare a glance for the younger man, who wilted a bit at her words. “I know it’s a stretch, but make the effort.” Her unflinching gaze fixed on Keira “I’ve read about the Mindhunters. That’s what they call Raiker’s outfit, right?” She didn’t wait for her nod before continuing. “Best lab facility in the country and their investigators are supposed to be top-notch, too. Hard to believe something like this is going on in the UP, but if that’s what the results say, you can take it to the bank.” The woman was ten years Keira’s senior and had been with the department for two decades. She and Brody spent the majority of their time on road patrol. But Keira would need all available manpower for this case.
“So have you called in the MSP yet?” Hank Fallon, her investigator, asked. His handsome face was set in grim lines. “Surprised they’re not here taking over already.”
“Obviously an impartial party needs to handle Danny’s case,” Keira said carefully. “However, the severed finger tells us there may be one more victim. The way it was delivered means the cases are intricately linked. To avoid the appearance of a conflict of interest, our office will be coordinating the investigation with one of Raiker’s agents, who will act as primary.”
She could feel the disapproval emanating from Phil, no less apparent for being unspoken. They’d discussed the results and her decision at length last night. The ferocity of his disagreement had surprised her, but she’d been undeterred. She’d followed all the proper channels for nine months, and it had led them to the exact conclusion that the killer had wanted them to draw. That knowledge burned. It was time to take control of the situation. Past time.
And Keira wouldn’t take the chance of being completely shut out of her dad’s case. She couldn’t be.
Her chair scraped as she pushed it away from the conference table a bit and studied the sober faces watching her from the other side of the table. “Turning the case over to the Michigan State Police is a crap shoot. Maybe our office would provide some peripheral support to them, but our degree of involvement would be dependent upon the agents assigned. And they’ve already had their chance with my dad’s case.” She was gratified by Hank’s nod. “They ruled it an accidental death, leaving Danny’s killer to walk around free for months. Free to target someone else. That’s why I contracted for one of Raiker’s agents. He—or she—should be here shortly and will work hand in hand with our office. I think we all deserve that much.”
Fallon perked up at the news. “Don’t give a damn who’s in charge as long as we get in on solving it.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Maybe the first thing we should consider is getting you round the clock protection,” Mary suggested. There was a murmur of agreement around the table. “This guy clearly knows where you live, and he’s already attacked you once.”
The memory stung. Keira suppressed an urge to reach up to the knot on the back of her head. And the shorter hair below. “Wouldn’t have been difficult to figure out where I live. The cooler, its contents—maybe even the chase and attack—were all part of his plan.” So far
, they’d been dancing to his tune. “He’s already accomplished what he set out to do. I think it was like…an invitation, of sorts.”
“An invitation?” The words came from Phil on a burst of indignation. “To what?”
“To his game.” Everyone swiveled at the newcomer’s voice. Finn Carstens stood in the open doorway next to Cal Holm, who volunteered part-time as office secretary. Keira gaped along with the rest of them. She’d expected a stranger, a full-fledged agent. Not Raiker’s forensic pathologist.
“He’s set up the board and he hand delivered an invite for Sheriff Saxon to play.” Finn Carstens strolled through the door, unzipping his coat as he walked. “It remains to be seen just what his rules are.”
“You said you were expecting him.” The inflection in Cal’s words made them a question.
“Yes.” She indicated for Finn to take the seat next to her and Cal retreated, closing the door quietly. Keira had questions of her own, but they would wait until she and the agent were alone. “Finn Carstens from Raiker Forensics everyone. We have him to thank for the lab results.”
“So…you’re a scientist?” Brody’s brow furrowed.
“Part-time. Many of Raiker’s forensic experts are cross-trained as investigators.” Finn shrugged out of his coat. He was dressed in a dark sweater, jeans, and expensive-looking leather boots that would do him very little good in the snow. A corner of his mouth pulled up. “Consider me a twofer. Raiker has mobile labs scattered across the nation. If the case demands it, Sheriff Saxon could requisition one and I would do the lab work myself.”
His answer addressed one of the issues she’d had when he’d walked in. But Keira still wanted to speak to him in private about the extent of his investigative experience.
Her mind flashed to her meeting with Adam Raiker. He didn’t seem like a man who would make a mistake about a matter like this. The realization alleviated a portion of her unease.
“You think the killer regards this whole thing as a game?” It was the first time Phil had spoken. “That he killed our boss for what? Entertainment?”
“It’s early yet.” Finn’s foot touched one of Keira’s as he arranged his legs beneath the table next to hers. “Way too soon for conclusions. But based on Keira’s description of the attack, I’d say he was trying to get her attention. That ambush may even have been pre-planned, although it’s equally likely that she followed him faster than he’d anticipated, so he improvised.” He turned his head to look at her. “Once you hit that trail, how far could the driver have stayed ahead of you without being seen?”
“There are a lot of curves, so maybe only a quarter mile or so. But I’d hear the sled, and on the trail my speed would have been far faster than it had been in the woods. The snowmobile he was driving matched the report of an older model stolen the same week. I probably would have been able to catch him. Obviously towing it was an easy way to keep me from following. My sled was left near a forest exit.”
“We followed his snowmobile’s trail.” Hank picked up the story. “We lost it when it crossed the highway, but it resumed on the opposite side. Three miles later, the tracks went off the path through the woods to an old logging road.. He must have had a pick up waiting there. Easy enough to back up to a snow bank and then drive the sled in the back. Throw a tarp over it and off you go.”
“I’m guessing no one saw him.”
“We put out a media alert. None of the tips have panned out.” Keira glanced at the clock on the wall. Almost two. “My deputies took casts of the truck’s tire treads, as well as the footprints on my porch, so we’ll have those for comparison purposes. No prints were found on my sled or my weapon.” There had been an off chance her attacker had handled it. “Likely he wore gloves. At any rate, we have pictures of the scenes at my house and where I was assaulted, as well as the trail he took making his getaway. I got a shot off before he hit me. I’m pretty sure I wounded him. There was slight blood spatter near his footprints leading away from the scene. We found more where he had his truck parked. There just wasn’t enough cast off blood for lab tests.”
Finn’s attention jerked toward her, surprise written in his expression. “You were close enough to wing him? So you have a description?”
She grimaced. “I wish. Things were a blur, and he was all in black. Probably wore a facemask. We’ve checked for patients presenting with gunshot wounds at all the hospitals and clinics in the east and west peninsula, as well as with veterinarians. There have been four reports of treating a GSW since last week. All have checked out, and we can be certain not one was our guy. It could have been a flesh wound, which he wouldn’t necessarily have needed medical attention for. Or he had someone he trusted to help him who wouldn’t report it. We found no traces of blood on my sled when it was recovered.”
She slid a thick file folder on the table over to him. “Copies of the photos from a week ago and the scene from where Danny’s body was found.” Using her dad’s given name helped her retain a modicum of objectivity. She was going to need every ounce she could muster for this case. “You’ll also find a list of everyone this office sent away during his tenure.”
Finn flipped the folder open and—setting aside the packets of photos for the moment—picked up the list and fanned the pages. “Wow. You weren’t kidding about his enemies. Given his position, I guess that’s to be expected.”
“I have the cases cross-referenced for which ones he had a personal involvement in, including dates. Each is coded for when he made the arrest or provided testimony that helped put a suspect away. I’ve started another list for other county residents that may have harbored some animosity toward him.” Keira lifted a shoulder. Not everyone with a grudge landed in jail. And while the most recent incidents would receive priority if she were at the helm of the investigation, she knew that thoughts of revenge could simmer for years. Decades, even.
Sound filtered into the conference room. A raised voice. Cal’s low rumbling tones.
She scanned the faces of her deputies. “Hank and Phil, you’ll accept duties from Finn and report to him on matters dealing with the investigation.” As undersheriff, Phil was second in command and primarily responsible for running the jail. But they’d all have to pull double duty in this case. “Mary and Brody will work with me looking into the identity of the second victim. He was alive when the finger was amputated and still may be. The clock is ticking on this one. You’ll have to juggle your other responsibilities as they come up. Assignments will be handed out by the end of the day.”
The thunderous pounding on the door of the conference room signaled that the meeting was at an end. Pushing her chair back, Keira rose. Everyone else followed suit. When the door burst open, the deputies skirted the man in the doorway as they filed from the room. “Sheriff Saxon.” Alger County Commissioner Arnie Hassert’s whole body fairly quivered with temper. “You and I need to talk.”
Keira had been half expecting him. She nodded understandingly to Cal, who stood red-faced behind the other man. There was no stopping Arnie in a fit of pique. It seemed to be his normal state, at least where she was concerned. “Certainly. Can I offer you coffee?”
In response, the man flicked a glance at Finn. “You’ll need to leave.”
Her eyes narrowed at the man’s autocratic tone, but Keira’s voice was cool when she turned to Finn. “Now would be a good time for you to see Cal about having a photo taken for a temporary ID.”
But it took another moment for Finn to remove his gaze from Hassert. “I don’t mind sticking around.”
The look in his eye, in his tone, took her aback. Protectiveness. It had been a long time since she’d seen that expression on a man. Keira almost laughed. After working Chicago homicide, handling a loud-mouthed quasi-politician like Hassert didn’t even raise her blood pressure. “It’s okay.” Her gaze slid back to the man in the doorway. The commissioner’s face was red and with his frizzy hair standing on end, she could almost understand Carstens’ hesitation. “We’ll speak later
.”
Finn took his time replacing papers in the file she’d given him before rising, collecting his coat and ambling toward the commissioner. He’d barely brushed by the other man when Hassert slammed the door after him and stalked toward Keira, slapping his hands on the table opposite her.
“You deliberately went back on your word!”
“How’s that?”
Her question seemed to stop him for a moment. “You know as well as I do! We had an agreement. You’d run all extra expenses by me first before allocating new resources.”
“You mean to run them by the board of commissioners.”
The subtle needling found its mark. Pushing away from the table the man ran a hand through his hair, which stood out from his head like a Brillo pad wired with live voltage. “I meant the entire board.”
She nodded. “Of course. And if I do foresee additional expenses, I’ll be sure to do so. Now if you’ll excuse me….”
“And what do you call the agenda item you added this morning? Discuss special transfer of funds? I’m here to tell you if you’re going to ask for an addition to this year’s budget, the answer will be no.”
She shook her head, torn between annoyance and awe. If leaping to conclusions were a sport, the man would be an Olympian. “I assume you’ve spoken to Dorie.” The woman was the county auditor. Part of her duties included acting as clerk for the commissioners. She publicized the agendas and took minutes for the meetings. It was a mystery how she kept getting elected to the job. She certainly hadn’t been hired for her discretion. The woman had set new records tipping off Arnie about their phone call a couple hours ago. “I’m not going to ask for more money.”
