Page 43 of Let Her Live

"Well, we'll make sure he faces the consequences of his actions," Jake said. "Do you have his address?"

"Yes, he lives in a small trailer on the outskirts of town. His family's legacy was the land they stole from my people, so there isn't much generational wealth there." Samuel grabbed a notepad off his table and scribbled something down, then handed it to Jake. "This is the address," he said. "It's not far from here."

Fiona and Jake thanked Samuel for his cooperation and left the cottage, heading straight to Frank's trailer. Fiona knew they had to be careful; if Frank was capable of animal murder and harassing an innocent man, he was likely capable of other violent acts as well.

Fiona had an unsettled feeling in her gut that they were about to come face-to-face with the very killer they'd been hunting.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Jake pulled the car up to a dilapidated trailer surrounded by rusting cars. The white paint of the trailer was chipped and peeling, and the windows were grimy with dirt. The yard was full of weeds and junk as if nobody had taken care of it in a long time. A bad feeling stirred in his gut, and he made a mental note to keep Fiona near him at all times in case things went south.

"This is where he lives?" Fiona asked, sitting in the passenger seat. Jake nodded; this was the address Samuel Stone had given them.

"Guess so," he said. "Looks sketchy. We need to be careful."

Fiona nodded in agreement. They stepped out of the car. It was later in the day now, with the sun sinking behind the trees; Jake dreaded losing the light. The sooner he got out of the Florida Everglades, the better. Mosquitos instantly went after him as they made their way to the door of the trailer.

Jake knocked, but there was no answer. A foul stench emanated from inside, making Jake's stomach curl with disgust. He knew that smell—it was the smell of death. This suddenly started to feel a lot more real.

"Frank Barber, open up," Jake called, knocking again. "This is the FBI. If you don't open up, we're coming in."

Still, no response.

Jake turned to Fiona, who wore a worried expression on her face. This was risky, but that stench was enough for Jake to want to break any rule. The case they had against Frank was compelling enough.

To hell with it—he was going in.

Jake turned thedoorknoband it opened with ease. The inside of the trailer was dark and musty, with no sign of life. Fiona and Jake exchanged a glance, then slowly made their way through the living room. The stench of death only got more intense, stinging Jake's nose. It smelled more animal than human, but it was acrid and pungent. Something was dead in here.

"Frank Barber," Jake said, hand on his gun, "this is the FBI. I need you to come out with your hands up."

Silence greeted them, broken only by the buzzing of flies. Jake and Fiona exchanged another glance, then continued down the hallway. The stench was so overwhelming that Jake had to cover his nose and mouth with his sleeve.

Fiona's hand brushed his arm. "Jake, look." She pointed at the floor, and Jake shone his flashlight at it.

Blood was smeared across the linoleum floor, leading toward a room down the hall. Jake's heart sped up; it was definitely not a good sign. He motioned for Fiona to follow him, and they cautiously made their way down the hallway, Jake with his gun at the ready.

He reached the bedroom, where the source of the smell was coming from. On the bed lay the bloated, decaying carcass of a large alligator. It had been mutilated, its head nearly severed from its body. The walls were splattered with blood and guts, and the floor was slick with fluids. Fiona recoiled in horror, pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle a gag.

Jake surveyed the scene in disgust. This was clearly the work of a disturbed mind. But there was something else in the room, something that caught Jake's attention. On a small table next to the bed lay a notebook, open to a page of crude drawings and scribbled notes. Jake picked it up, flipping through the pages. It was filled with sketches of animals, all of them with Xs over their eyes.

"What is it?" Fiona asked, peeking over his shoulder.

"It's some kind of diary or journal," Jake said, scanning the pages. "It's filled with drawings of animals, and they all have X's over their eyes."

Fiona frowned in disgust. "That's horrible. What is this guy's problem?"

"Yeah, it's hard to believe some people are capable of doing this," Jake said. "He's clearly unstable, and his mind is sick."

"Why would he do that to these animals?" Fiona asked, pointing at the dead alligator.

"It's serial killer behavior," Jake said. "Maybe he was testing on them before he moved onto people."

"And he's still out there, somewhere," Fiona said, her voice catching. "We have to find him." Jake nodded in agreement. They needed to find Frank Barber, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Well, if he's not here, he's got to be somewhere nearby," Jake said.

Just then, there was acreekbehind them.

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