Page 1 of Scent of Evil
1
US Marshal Raine Whitman stared down at the dead man lying at the side of the road. The victim had been shot in the face at close range just outside of Casper, Wyoming. A mixture of anger and fear hummed through her bloodstream. There was no doubt in her mind this was the work of her escaped prisoner, Allen Decker. The man was a sexual predator who’d finally gotten caught back when he’d abducted Raine’s niece, Ginny Clark. After Ginny had managed to escape, her description of Decker and the fact that he hadn’t gotten too far enabled the local sheriff’s deputy to find and arrest him.
Now, two years after his conviction, Decker had escaped, likely, she thought, with the help of his creepy underground pedophile network. The details were foggy, and she knew her boss, Mike Rowe, was still piecing Decker’s escape plan together. One thing they knew for sure was that the prison van transporting Decker to the hospital had been badly damaged in a T-bone crash. The van driver had been killed and so had the pedophile in the second car that had rammed the van.
Decker was in the wind.
How the crash had been prearranged, they still weren’t sure. Raine was convinced Decker had some help from the inside, maybe even his lawyer who could have passed messages back and forth on Decker’s behalf. Either way, that part was a moot point. The problem now was that Decker was out of prison and on the move. And despite the fact that his escape had taken place on Interstate 80 about fifteen miles from the prison, the moment this call had come in from Casper, Raine had suspected Decker was responsible.
Raine and her other US Marshal colleagues needed to find him, before he could kill another innocent bystander or abduct any young girls. Like Ginny.
Keeping her expression impassive, she turned to the Wyoming State Trooper. “Do you have an ID on this guy yet?”
“Nope. His wallet was stolen, and as you can see by what’s left of his face, we don’t have enough to run him through the facial recognition database. As soon as the crime scene techs get here, we can run his fingerprints. Hopefully, he’s in the system. If not?” The trooper shrugged. “We may be out of luck.”
She swallowed a curse, a bad habit she’d given up when Ginny had spent time with her this past summer. “We need an ID to figure out what vehicle Decker is driving.”
“I know.” Trooper Wade Callum gestured to the highway. “We came to Casper from the south. If your convict is responsible for this murder, he could go either way from here. Either heading west toward the Wind River Reservation or north toward Buffalo and the Bighorn Mountains. If you ask me, he’s more likely to go west to the reservation. He may find it easier to hide on the reservation than in other cities or towns.”
Raine swallowed hard, trying not to show her panic. She didn’t think for one minute Decker was heading east. She had a very bad feeling he was going north toward Buffalo, where her niece lived. She’d mentioned her fears to her boss, but Mike hadn’t agreed, claiming Decker was too smart to do something so obvious.
Was she wrong? Had this man been shot and killed by someone other than Decker? No, she didn’t believe in coincidences. This had to be Decker’s work. “Any idea how long ago this guy has been murdered? Decker escaped three hours ago.” Three hours. Three long, frustrating hours.
Trooper Callum scratched his chin. “I’m no expert, but based on the flies and buzzards overheard who’ve already made a meal of this guy’s face and hands, I’d say at least an hour or two.”
“Thanks.” Raine reached for her phone just as it rang. Seeing FBI Agent Griff Flannery’s name on the screen, she quickly answered. “Thanks for calling me back. I need SAR help in tracking an escaped prisoner, Allen Decker. He’s a convicted pedophile who has already killed two men since his escape and should be considered armed and dangerous. Not to mention a threat to young girls everywhere.”
“I heard about his escape.” Griff’s tone was somber. “I have asked for help from the Sullivan K9 Search and Rescue Ranch. My brother-in-law Justin Sullivan and his K9, Stone, are ready to go, but they’re in Greybull at the moment.”
“Greybull works. Please ask Justin to head toward Buffalo, I’ll meet him there.” She had heard all about the Sullivan K9 teams and how great they were at finding missing people. “We may need more than one team searching for him, though.”
“That’s fine,” Griff said. “Trevor Sullivan and his K9, Archie, can head out, too, if needed. I’m currently in Cheyenne for a meeting with the governor, but I know that all law enforcement agencies in the area are on the lookout for this guy.”
That isn’t good enough, she thought wearily. But she refrained from stating the obvious. “What about getting a couple of police choppers in the air?”
“We can deploy choppers, but that works better if we have a description of the vehicle.” Griff sounded apologetic. “We can’t just burn fuel by flying around without knowing who we’re looking for. Especially as bowhunting season is in full swing. The traffic on the interstate and local highways is higher than normal this time of the year.”
She bit back her anger. Griff was right. Just sending choppers into the air without a target to focus on would be a waste of money. And it could even backfire. If Decker saw the choppers, he may find another vehicle to steal, killing the occupants the way he had this poor man lying in the ditch. “I’m hoping we’ll have an ID on our most recent victim soon and that will provide a vehicle description. I also think Decker is heading to Buffalo, where my sister and her daughter live. I need you to call the local authorities to check on them.”
“Consider it done. I plan to head back to the ranch in an hour or so.” She heard muffled voices in the background, as if the meeting Griff mentioned was breaking up. “My brother-in-law Logan Fletcher is a pilot and is chartering a hunting party into the Bighorns. He promised to keep an eye out for Decker.”
That was encouraging. They had Allen Decker’s face plastered on every news station across the country. Someone somewhere would hopefully see him and report the sighting to the authorities. “Thanks.”
“I gave Justin your cell number,” Griff said. “That way you can communicate with him directly.”
“That’s fine.” Raine preferred it that way. She strode toward her SUV. “Have him call me right away.”
“Understood,” Griff agreed. “Keep in touch, Raine. If you get more clues as to where this guy is, let me know and we’ll deploy more resources to find him.”
“Will do. Thanks.” She ended the call as she slid in behind the wheel of her SUV. She quickly started the car and hit the road, heading north on Highway 25.
Stomping her foot hard on the accelerator, she pushed her speed as much as possible. Speed limits didn’t matter to her, but she soon found Griff was right about the traffic. As a US Marshal, she didn’t have a light bar on her vehicle, but she flashed her lights to encourage drivers to move out of the way. She called her niece, Ginny, but the eleven-year-old didn’t answer. She tried her sister, Cami, too, with the same results. The cell coverage in Buffalo could be spotty, especially since her sister worked at the Wild Buffalo Hotel, which was outside of town. Raine left both her sister and niece a message to be careful and to call her back as soon as they could.
Maybe she was wrong about Decker going to find her niece. If he was smart, he’d find one of his creepy buddies and stay off the radar until the heat of the search died down. But having looked into Decker’s soulless eyes during the trial, she knew he was sick and evil. And capable of anything.
She made good time for the next thirty-five minutes and hoped to be in Buffalo sooner than she’d originally anticipated.
Her phone rang, a strange number flashing on the screen. Remembering Griff saying he was giving her number to Justin, she quickly answered. “Whitman.”
