Page 47 of Craving Sin (Touch of Evil 13)

Sylvie Deering

June 2025

Wednesday — 2:47 pm

“I'm sorry. Like I said before, I didn't mean to upset you folks,” the hunter repeated, his rifle now pointed safely toward the ground. “That shot was meant to scare away a cow moose with her calf about fifty yards back. Those mamas can be more dangerous than most people realize.”

Sylvie's pulse had only just begun to steady.

At least ten minutes had passed since the gunshot rang out, and adrenaline still flowed through her system. From where she stood, Tim Lofton appeared harmless enough. He had immediately called out to identify himself after Sylvie and Theo had drawn their weapons. He emerged from the tree line with his arms raised high, the rifle vertical and pointing toward the sky.

“No harm done,” Sylvie replied, doing her best to give the man a reassuring smile. Once they had determined that Tim Lofton wasn’t a threat, Theo had made his way a good eighty yards up the slight incline behind the cabin. He was using hand gestures to communicate with the pilot of the chopper, hopefully indicating their need for a satellite radio. She wouldn’t mind delaying the ride down the mountain. “I’ll be honest, Mr. Lofton. I don’t know a lot about Alaskan wildlife. We’re grateful for?—”

“Most tourists think bears are the big danger up here, but moose injure more people in Alaska than bears do. Especially cow moose with calves—they're incredibly protective.” Tim shifted his weight, his hiking boots sinking slightly into the soft ground. He was oblivious to her attempt to send him on his way. “They can weigh up to fourteen hundred pounds and stand nearly seven feet tall at the shoulder.”

Introductions had already been made, and Tim was informed that the cabin was now a crime scene. The man’s curiosity had clearly gotten the best of him, but it was his incessant chatter that prolonged their conversation.

“When moose charge, they can hit thirty-five miles per hour in seconds. And those hooves?" Tim gave a long, low whistle. "Sharp as knives when they're coming down on you.”

“I didn’t know that,” Sylvie murmured as she observed a large black bag being lowered down by the chopper on a thick cable. The bag swayed gently in the breeze, but it eventually made its way steadily down towards the ground. “Well, Mr. Lofton, we really need to?—”

“What most people don't know is how they use the landscape to their advantage. In spring and early summer, the calves are vulnerable to predators—wolves, black bears, grizzlies. When a moose feels threatened, they'll sometimes move into rougher terrain. Seems counterintuitive, but the uneven ground slows down the predators more than it does the moose. They've got these long legs, see? Can navigate through fallen logs and deep snow better than a wolf pack or a bear.”

Tim patted his rifle.

“That's why I fired the warning shot. Moose have poor eyesight but excellent hearing. The sound scares them off, sends them looking for safer ground. Better than having her charge you because you surprised her. They'll trample you without a second thought if they think you're threatening their calf.”

Tim stood about six feet tall. His beard was neatly trimmed, and he wouldn’t have given Sylvie a hunter’s vibe. There didn’t seem to be any calluses on the palms of his hands, either. He wore a bright orange hunting vest over layers of practical outdoor clothing—sensible for June in Alaska, where the temperature could drop unexpectedly even during the endless daylight hours.

“While we’re here, we’ll be more vigilant,” Sylvie assured him.

“And you really think that the serial killer leading the authorities to Lusa Kalluk’s body stayed in that cabin there?” Tim asked with skepticism. “I mean, nothing ever happens around here. I moved here a few years back. Met my wife at a medical conference, fell head over heels in love, and uprooted my life from the East Coast. Crazy, huh? Anyway, it took a while for me to get used to all this wilderness. It’s quiet, but my wife loves nature. I couldn’t ask her to leave. Now? The East Coast is looking pretty damn good. I’m not so sure she’s going to feel safe knowing that a serial killer was practically in our backyard.”

“Jacob Walsh has been in federal custody for several years,” Sylvie explained patiently, having already taken time to clarify the situation to Tim. “You and your wife have nothing to fear from him.”

“It’s not him we’re worried about, ma’am. We heard about that federal agent being murdered yesterday.” Tim removed his focus from Theo to concentrate on her. “We might live an hour away from Blackpeak, but something of that magnitude affects everyone around these parts. If that Walsh guy is in custody, then who killed that woman?”

“The investigation is being handled by the local FBI field office, Mr. Lofton.” Sylvie noticed that the man’s interest was the kind of morbid fascination that high-profile cases often generated in the public. Unfortunately, until they could apprehend the individual who killed Kate, Sylvie couldn’t give Tim any assurances. It also didn’t serve her in any capacity to inform him of S&E Investigations’ involvement with the case. “Again, we appreciate your assistance with the…moose. It appears that my colleague has secured a satellite radio. You might want to steer clear of the area for a while.”

“Did you find the remains of Lusa Kalluk yet? I wasn’t in Alaska at the time, but my wife told me all about how she disappeared one night from a bar in Blackpeak,” Tim shared as he made no effort to leave. His gaze drifted back to Theo, who had secured the bag that had been lowered from the helicopter. "I heard on the news this morning that the feds were crawling all over the mountain in that area. Why aren't you on the other side? Was that just a ruse to get the media off your back?”

A flicker of wariness passed through Sylvie. His questions seemed innocuous enough, but in her experience, specific questions about locations in an active investigation rarely were.

“I'm afraid I can't disclose that information,” Sylvie replied, her tone cooling several degrees. "All I can say is that the cabin is now a crime scene. Thank you for?—”

“Did you find a body in there?” Tim was a little too enthusiastic, but Sylvie relaxed when she understood the reason behind his demeanor. “Wait until my wife hears about this. Not to move back to the East Coast, mind you. But a serial killer’s hideout in our backyard? What are the odds of that?”

“As I said, I can't discuss details of the case.” Sylvie motioned in the direction they had originally spotted him. “We appreciate your help with the moose situation. We'll keep better vigilance of our surroundings. In the meantime, we would appreciate your discretion on this matter.”

Tim finally registered her dismissal, his expression shifting as understanding dawned. He then frowned in displeasure.

“You mean, I can’t even tell my wife?”

“You can discuss this with your wife, but I would still ask for discretion from both of you.”

The absolute last thing they wanted was for the couple to speak with the media, whether local or national. Tim’s earlier comment made it clear that the press had already discovered where Jacob had taken the group. A checkpoint would likely have been established a mile or two from the entry point.

Unfortunately, such recourse would only divert resources that could be better utilized elsewhere.

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