Page 10 of Silent Prey

“Just escaping the sun for a minute,” the man said, flashing a smile as he discreetly hid the knife beneath the seat. “How hot is it supposed to get today, do you know?”

The park ranger rubbed his chin thoughtfully, eyes scanning the man's vehicle and the laptop on the dashboard. "Supposed to reach the mid-eighties. If you're planning to hike out around, make sure you have plenty of water."

"Oh, I'm just passing through," the man replied easily. "Won't be here long." He chuckled, hoping it sounded genuine.

“Where you from?”

"Out east," the man answered, keeping his tone light and nonchalant. "Just taking in the sights on my way to California."

“What’s in California?” The ranger’s tone was pleasant, but the man sensed an undercurrent of suspicion. Sweat began to gather in his armpits.

"Just some old friends," the man lied smoothly, resisting the urge to reach for the hidden knife. "College buddy of mine is finally getting hitched, and since I had some vacation time…” He shrugged.

The ranger nodded and scanned the trees. He seemed to be thinking, perhaps deciding whether to continue this line of questioning or break off.

“Must be a long trip,” the ranger finally said.

The man arched an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“Your park permit expired a week ago.” He gestured at the sticker on the man’s windshield.

Shit.

The man swallowed hard, trying to think of an explanation. “Oh, that’s…like I said, I had a lot of vacation time saved up…”

“I think I’d like to see your driver’s license, if you don’t mind.” There was no mistaking the suspicion in the ranger’s voice now.

The man’s heart pounded as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small leather wallet. His fingers brushed over the smooth edges of his license. The picture was of him, but the name was not.

The knife, use the knife, a voice in the back of his head whispered. You can reach him from here.

Yes, maybe he could…but there would be so much blood. And how would he get rid of not just the body but the vehicle as well? On the other hand, if the ranger realized the license was a fake…

“There a problem?” the ranger asked. His posture was rigid now, his hand hidden at his side—ready to draw his weapon, no doubt.

"No, not at all." The man carefully handed the ranger his license. Biting his lip, he waited to see whether the false ID would pass inspection.

The ranger squinted at the card, then glanced back at the man. "Christopher Townsend. You say you're heading to California?"

"Yes." The man who was not actually Christopher Townsend nodded, feigning a smile. "For a friend’s wedding, like I said."

The ranger continued to scrutinize the license, his eyes darting back and forth between the picture and Christopher’s face. A short distance down the road, a young, curvy woman with fiery red hair ablaze in the sunlight emerged from the trees and approached the Jetta. Christopher watched her anxiously, wishing he could get rid of this ranger.

“You staying in Salt Lake City, then?” the ranger asked.

“No, I’ve been here.”

“In one of the campgrounds?”

Christopher nodded, watching as the woman opened her car door, pulled out a cooler and set it on the ground, and began transferring items from the cooler to her backpack. He couldn't help staring at her waist. It angered her, how heavy she was. Like a fattened calf.

“Which campground?” the ranger asked.

Christopher’s patience was seeping away. “I’m sorry, is there a problem?”

“I don’t know,” the ranger answered. “Is there something I should know about?”

The two stared at one another for several tense seconds. The urge to grab the knife became almost overwhelming, and Christopher’s hand crept beneath the seat and curled around the handle of the weapon. Could he pull it out and stab the ranger before the ranger had a chance to draw and fire his weapon?

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