Page 23 of Their Wicked Games

Jimmy smiled. “Yeah. I do so love hunting bear. How did it go? Did you bag one?”

“Yeah, it went smooth. I found it just where you suggested but taking it down was harder than I anticipated. It refused to go down and I cut it up real bad. Ended up slitting its throat. I had blood all over.”

Exhilarated, Jimmy’s hand shook on the receiver. He could see the kill in his mind as clear as if he’d been there. The smell, the feel of warm blood on his hands, the fear in the eyes of his victim, followed by the acceptance that he’d won. He sighed. “I used to get it up to my elbows. Dominating them is the thrill, don’t you think? The final sigh as they die used to play like an earwig in my head. I hated washing the blood away. If I’d had a chance, I would have rolled in it.”

“I can’t get it out of my head. I keep hearing it moan.”The caller cleared his throat.“Does that ever go away?”

Snorting, Jimmy laughed. “Why would you want it to? If you plan to keep hunting, you can’t have a conscience. The idea is to have fun, push on to greater experiences. Wallow in the thrill of killing.” He suddenly realized what the man was asking him. Unlike him, this person needed praise. It was a weakness but after a time it would pass. “I’m impressed with how far you’ve come. Hunting alone can be difficult but if you really want to make me proud, take down a young buck, field-dress it, and leave it where it lies, then come and give me a blow by blow.”

“How do I select the right one?”

Jimmy rubbed his chin. “Take out the weakest in the herd, the loner. Sometimes these can be the most challenging.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Jimmy smiled. “You did good, Eagle. Real, good.” He hung up the phone.

TWENTY-ONE

In his time in the service and investigating some of the horrific crimes in Black Rock Falls, Kane had witnessed atrocities that would give normal people nightmares. As a sniper, he’d managed to slip into the zone, a mental trick to leave the horror behind and out of his dreams. He never forgot those he’d killed in the line of duty nor would he keep a tally or brag about it. In his time in the service, the people he killed were referred to as “targets” in the field but this wasn’t to dehumanize them. It was to keep their names off the airways. He’d always been fully aware that each person he’d killed left a grieving family behind, but in warfare, people who threatened the freedom of his country unfortunately became casualties of war.

As his gaze moved over the brutalized body of Alicia Palmer, compassion for the young woman filled him. It was obvious from the stab wounds she’d fought for her life. When Wolfe and Colt Webber rolled her over to view her back, beside him Jenna caught her breath. It was obvious Alicia had tried to escape a frenzied attack. From the deep cuts across her torso and arms, her killer had shown no mercy. The lacerations also told him that her attacker had never been trained in hand-to-hand combat. From behind, anyone skilled with a knife could have murdered her with one strategically placed stab wound. The same with the front of the torso, the stab wounds were random and frenzied, none of them hitting vital organs. One single thrust with a knife, pushed up under the sternum, would kill instantly. He walked over to Wolfe, his attention moving to the cut across the woman’s throat. “That was done from the front. Right-handed killer.” He looked at Wolfe for confirmation.

“Yeah, I agree.” Wolfe picked up the victim’s hands. “Defense wounds, but this body is fresh. She hasn’t been in the water long, less than an hour. Her killer must be covered in blood. She would have been bleeding profusely and you know as well as I do cutting the carotid artery produces a spray of blood forward and with considerable force. If the killer was bending forward, I would expect him to be covered.”

Kane nodded. “Maybe someone saw him leaving the forest?”

“The problem with that is it’s bear-hunting season, and many people who field-dress their kills are covered in blood.” Rowley removed his hat and wiped his brow. “It’s not something anyone would take notice of around these parts.” He looked from Kane to Wolfe. “I know you guys aren’t partial to hunting but it’s the way of life here.”

Nodding, Kane cleared his throat. He’d done enough killing to last him a lifetime and he could still see the faces of the men who’d kidnapped Jenna. At the time it was kill or be killed, an instinct drilled into him. He shrugged. “It’s not for me. I prefer fishing. I like the thinking time.”

“What are you seeing here, Shane?” Jenna moved to Wolfe’s side.

“I figure she knew her attacker. There’s no evidence her clothes were torn from her body. I would usually see burn marks on the skin. So maybe this was a romantic liaison gone bad. I figure he attacked from the front. I’ll examine the sharp force trauma incisions more closely later, but my first impression is he attacked from above. She tried to defend herself, and then turned and ran. He caught up and attacked from behind. She has grazes to her knees and shins, which would indicate she tried to climb over rocks or maybe the edge of the waterfall.”

Imagining the scenario in his head, Kane nodded. “He must have turned her to face him.” He glanced at Jenna. “This makes him particularly dangerous. He wanted to see her face as she died.” He looked up at the jagged rocks climbing high into the air and then turned to Wolfe. “I figure he cut her throat and then tossed her over the edge, so your theory of trying to climb rocks to get away would fit.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The guy who found her, Jud Cole, mentioned a trail through the forest to a rock pool. He said it was opposite Pine on Stanton, right where Carter found her Jeep.”

“If she was murdered in a rock pool, it would likely be fed by the falls.” Wolfe rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I figure the chances of finding any trace blood evidence would be remote in that situation, but in a crime scene anything is possible.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s getting late, but we should hunt down the murder scene as it’s still fresh. Once we get the body on the travois, we’ll be good to go. Do you want to leave now and see if you can find the rock pool?” He looked at Rowley. “You’ve lived here all your life. Do you know this place?”

“Nope.” Rowley shook his head and pointed upward. “As you can see, the edge of the falls is very steep and dangerous. It’s not a place most people would venture voluntarily. The forest wardens have it on the list of no-go areas for hikers and warn hunters to keep away from it. I can’t ever remember it being a designated hunting area.”

Kane looked at Jenna. When she nodded her approval of the plan, he looked at Rio and Rowley. “Head off now. We’ll help Wolfe with the travois and be right behind you. If you find the place, send us the coordinates.”

The forest roared with sound as the dirt bikes started up and headed along the trail back to the road. Kane noticed Jenna staring at the pool. She was working things through in her head. He went to Wolfe’s dirt bike and pulled out the travois, assembled it, and attached it to the back. Wolfe needed to be astride the dirt bike to keep it balanced when they added the body. After spending some time getting everything ready, he walked back to Jenna. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” She shivered. “Do you recall the last time we were here and Atohi Blackhawk told us about this place? He said his people never fished here because they believed the souls of the dead occupied the lake. It’s the darkest lake I’ve ever seen. It looks sinister. Whenever I’m here I feel as if someone is watching me.” She sighed. “I hope she was dead before she hit the water. It would be a terrible place to die.”

Slipping an arm around her shoulder, Kane pulled her hard against him. “I can assure you she was dead before she went over the edge. There’s no doubt. Come on, we’ll go on ahead. There’s little doubt the killer is covered in blood, and I doubt he’d be staying around but I’d like to be there when Rio and Rowley find the murder scene.”

“Okay. Let’s get out of here.” Jenna headed for her dirt bike. “Stay close, I can’t keep up with you.”

Kane smiled. “You lead the way. Follow Wolfe. He’ll find his way back to the road.” He waited for her to start her dirt bike and smiled. He’d considered building her a Harley, but he loved the way she squeezed him so tight when they rode together. He pushed on his helmet and sighed. “Dave Kane, you’re becoming sentimental. Go figure.”

TWENTY-TWO

Carter and Jo arrived at Mustang Creek to find a large spread. Rowley hadn’t mentioned that Jessie Davis owned such a prestigious cattle ranch. The ranch house spread out with wide verandas all around. Outbuildings by the dozen—pens, barns and cattle dips—were dwarfed by the open ranges surrounding the property. Herds of prime beef cattle roamed lush pasture. The business would be worth millions. Carter rolled the cruiser to a halt in the neat driveway out front of the house. They climbed out and went to the front porch and knocked on the door. Through the screen, he made out a long hallway leading to a kitchen. The smell of meat cooking wafted toward them, making him wish it was dinnertime. A dog barked and a small mixed-breed came scampering down the hallway, its nails clattering over the polished floor, followed by a woman wearing an apron. As they were going onto a ranch outside of town, Carter and Jo had worn their FBI jackets. Often, being recognized as law enforcement officers prevented problems when entering people’s land.

As the woman came to the screen door, picked up the growling dog, and peered at them, Carter touched the rim of his hat in a friendly manner and smiled. “Good afternoon, ma’am, we’re looking for Jesse Davis.”

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