Undercover Hunter (7 page)

She sat across from him. The coffeepot now resided at one end of the table. “All right, let’s review it as scene setting. And frankly, I was getting hellaciously creeped out by the photos of the vics they found last time. Wrapped in plastic for preservation is one thing. Wrapping them so that their faces can be seen is another. Let’s add that to the scene setting.”

“You’re on,” he said, reaching for the forensics envelope.

* * *

Across town, Calvin Sweet was halfway through his shift on the crisis line. It was a quiet night, as many were, but some of his coworkers had warned him that as winter lengthened and the temperatures dropped even lower, that would change. Cabin fever would set in for some. They’d start getting depressed. Or domestic fights would break out.

He wished the lines would light up. He needed the distraction. His own thoughts kept pushing him toward the hunt, the next take, the next victim. It was almost as if seeing all his old trophies gone, he had a big hole to fill, and the sooner the better.

His hands tightened into fists until his knuckles whitened. Moving too soon would break the pattern, not necessarily bad, but it
would
signify a loss of control. He might make a mistake and he couldn’t afford that. Everything had to be just so, and he couldn’t risk some kind of sloppiness that could eventually reveal him.

But he was waging one hell of an internal battle.

“Calvin?” Dory called his name from the next phone over. “Are you all right?”

She was about the right size and build, he realized, although a bit plump around the middle. Her gray hair stalled him, though. Gray hair had never called to him. He liked dark hair, the darker the better, preferably a little long. As the winter went on, the boys around here let their hair grow some. He liked it. But Dory wasn’t the one. She didn’t have the glow of a chosen one. He wondered how long he’d have to wait for the right woman to appear, now that he felt a strong urge to take one.

“I’m fine,” he answered, hoping his voice didn’t sound as tense as he felt. “Just bored.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she said cheerfully. “Next month we’ll be busy enough that we’ll wish we had more volunteers.”

“Seems like a bad thing to look forward to.” Even in his current agitated state he could recognize that. He didn’t want to harm the whole world. He had nothing at all against most people. Hell, he didn’t even have anything against those boys he cleansed. With them it was necessary. Purity was important.

“Oh, I didn’t say I was looking forward to it,” Dory hastened to assure him. “Just that we’ll be way too busy next month. I don’t like it, though. So many of these people are my friends and neighbors. It’s always sad when one of them gets into trouble.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to relax.

He managed to look at Dory and smile. No, not the type he needed, not even remotely. The urge subsided a bit.

“So this killer thing,” Dory said, apparently deciding to save him from boredom. He tensed immediately. “Well, I don’t know it’s a killer but it seems so much like what happened last time. If it is, then another boy will disappear in a few weeks. Somebody told me this kind of killer speeds up. I hope folks don’t drop their guard.”

“Me, too,” he answered untruthfully. Well, maybe not untruthfully. He was still enjoying the fear that haunted the town and surrounding ranches. It might make finding his next victim harder, but that was part of the challenge. Part of the risk. Part of what heightened the pleasure for him. Some killers like him preferred easy pickings. He’d had both easy and hard pickings, and he knew which gave him greater power and enjoyment.

He needed three more to fill his web. Then maybe he would move on again. Or maybe not. He supposed he could figure that out later. As long as he kept control of himself, he was in charge of everything.

The thought passed through him like a soothing, warm drink.
He
was in charge. Not the cops, not the locals. Just him.

He turned to Dory with a smile. “I’m going to run over to Maude’s and get some coffee. You want some?”

“Oh, you are a sweet young man! Actually, I’d like some hot chocolate, if you don’t mind.” She reached for her purse to give him money but he waved a hand.

“My treat,” he said firmly. Rising, he went to get his jacket and gloves.

“Don’t freeze your nose off,” Dory called cheerfully.

Actually, he half hoped he would. The bite of the cold would help nip his internal battle.

The City Diner, also known by the name of its founder and owner as Maude’s, wasn’t too far away even on a night where the thermometer was plunging to zero and maybe below. The brisk walk eased the pressure in his head, the need for action that crawled along his every nerve. At least the colors hadn’t brightened. He hadn’t yet fallen completely into the hunting mind-set.

They had a coffeepot at the call center, and he was mildly surprised Dory hadn’t suggested it instead of walking to the diner. Maybe she felt it would be a good tonic for his boredom.

But boredom wasn’t his real problem, and he cherished his secret. It made him feel special to know what no one else knew, that he was the man they all feared.

The diner was awfully empty tonight. Maude was still taking the week off because she’d burned her hand on the griddle. He asked Mavis, her daughter, about her and received a lukewarm smile, the best one could hope for in this place.

“Improving. Wants to get back to work. Coffee?”

“To go,” he answered. “And a hot chocolate for Dory.”

Mavis bustled around at the machines behind the counter. “Coffee’s fresh,” she remarked. “Considering nobody’s buying any tonight, I’m wasting a lot by throwing it out when it gets old.”

He sympathized even though he didn’t give a damn, and was given two large, oversize take-out cups but charged only for regulars. There were some advantages to being pleasant. More than a few in fact.

Stepping once again into the frigid night, he noticed anew how empty the streets were. People around here didn’t generally quail this much from the cold. They had warm cars to get around in and warm enough clothes to wear.

So it was fear keeping them inside. He sniffed the air, thinking he could almost smell terror. It kind of interested him that when he was only taking boys, everyone appeared to be scared. His power reached even farther than he’d thought. Power over every mind in this county. Power over their worst nightmares.

A smile came to his lips. Maybe he should break his pattern. It wouldn’t be as satisfying, but it would spread a wider net of fear. It would also confuse those he was sure were even now trying to find him. They were probably just starting to think they could predict him.

Maybe it was time to show them they couldn’t.

Chapter 5

D
eeJay awoke in the morning feeling as if she’d spent the night in a pitched battle. Every muscle seemed to ache, and she was tangled in the blankets. Remnants of tattered nightmares followed her into the waking world. Vaguely, she remembered that at some point she had felt trapped and unable to move as some dark threat approached her.

Usually the job didn’t follow her into sleep, but this case was different in so many ways. She didn’t allow herself a lot of time to think about anything except the investigation, but apparently her mind had pulled out the stops in her sleep.

She had been dealing with emotions in her dreams. Her fear for those boys, her horror when she thought of the terror they must have suffered at this monster’s hands. It didn’t bear imagining, and she couldn’t afford to let human feelings get in the way of analyzing the evidence. But for a few moments she sat on the edge of the couch and let herself do just that.

Feel.

For those boys, for their families, for their friends. For all the parents in this county who might be looking at their sons, wondering how to protect them. For all the people around here who must feel as if they were caught in a waking nightmare. She let it roll through her, searing, angry, despairing, unutterably sad.

She felt as if sheer emotion could rip her apart from the inside.

But then she pushed it aside, reminding herself that she had to keep her head clear for this job. Rising, ignoring stiff, aching muscles, she grabbed a change of clothing and headed for the bathroom.

“Coffee’s ready,” Cade called from the kitchen.

“Be there in a minute.” She wondered if his night had been as tormented as hers. Examining those files again last night had been even worse than the first time. Seeing it all through the lens of a man who was setting a stage of some kind on which to play out his sick fantasies and compulsions only made it worse. Every choice he made was part of his imagined ritual. Satisfying dark urges in himself that nobody would probably ever understand. Not really.

But it was all about compulsion and satisfaction, and probably power, and most definitely about the small details that aided him in finding his satisfaction. They’d studied the small details last night, every one of them, because it was doubtful that any were simply accidental.

They’d applied a magnifying glass to a sick psyche, and she wasn’t sure that they’d gotten anywhere. Maybe they should call in a forensic psychologist? Send the files for evaluation?

But that had been done when the first stash had been found in the woods, and they didn’t yet have much to add to what the psychologist had come up with then.

The shower eased her muscle aches. Toweling off made her skin feel fresh and clean. This wouldn’t last long. The whole case was making her feel sullied somehow. She’d had disturbing cases before, but this beat any of them. She felt as if it were tainting her.

She realized she’d left her clothes on the bed instead of bringing them into the small bathroom with her. Instead of being warm from the shower steam, they’d be chilled like this whole damn house.

Sighing, she threw the door open and saw Cade. He was bent over his own suitcase and looked at her. At once the air seemed to sizzle, and she saw it in his eyes. He wanted her.

As the recognition hit her, she abruptly realized that she was standing there stark naked. Not even holding a towel. Everything froze, an instant in time that suddenly seemed outside of time, an instant of recognition so basic it defied thought. Her insides seemed to melt, and a yearning so strong filled her that she felt her legs weaken. His eyes swept over her, taking in every detail from her puckered nipples to her hips and the thatch of dark hair they cradled. Her breath froze inside of her, overwhelmed by a longing so intense that it shocked her.

It happened fast but seemed to last forever. It was only a second, but might have been a lifetime until the world began to move again. He looked away.

“Sorry,” he said. “I needed something and didn’t think you’d...” Apparently he thought that better left unfinished. Without looking at her again, he hurried from the bedroom, pointedly closing the door behind him.

She continued to stand frozen, waiting for her breath and strength to return. She closed her eyes a moment, gripping the door frame, and wondered how the hell they were going to handle this. Like it had never happened, she decided.

But it had.

Finally, cussing under her breath, she dressed and went out to face the music.

Except there was no music. Toast and bacon heaped on two plates at the table, two mugs of steaming coffee and Cade busy looking over the notes he had written last night. He didn’t even look up as he said, “Good morning.”

She mumbled her response and sat across from him. It never happened. Except that she knew she’d be unable to forget that it had. Desires buried since she’d first set eyes on him and realized he didn’t want her for a partner, had broken free of their bonds, reminding her that she was a woman, and he was a damned attractive man. Basic. Simple. And oh so complicated in the present circumstances.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked casually, still not lifting his eyes from the notes he was leafing through.

“Lousy,” she admitted. “Nightmares.”

Finally he lifted his gaze, a brief glance. “Me, too. This case is getting at me in ways I’ve never had happen before. I don’t know if it’s the boys, the idea of this killer or what.”

“Yeah.” What else could she say? Biting into a strip of bacon gave her an excuse to say nothing at all.

“And these notes aren’t telling me any more this morning than they did last night. The evaluation by that psychologist is empty.”

“You think so, too?” She began to relax as the conversation remained work related. Male interest of any kind could easily send her into a self-defensive hyperdrive. It was one thing to feel an attraction herself; it was another to have it returned. Without fail, at those times she felt unsafe. “Generalizations. He could have been writing about almost any serial killer.”

“He sure as hell didn’t see any significance to the cargo netting.”

“Are you changing your mind?”

He lifted his gaze once again and this time didn’t look away so quickly. Control restored, she guessed. Good. “No. I think you’re right. This was staged as part of his ritual. The problem is, you can’t see any sense in it. Can’t feel what might be behind it. But it’s too elaborate to be anything else.”

She reached for a couple slices of toast, loaded on the bacon and made herself a sandwich. “Dreaming about it didn’t help, either. No brilliant bursts of insight from the subconscious. But when you think about it, Cade, an awful lot was involved in that staging. Getting the net strung on the trees, wrapping the bodies, getting them up there, hanging them. A hell of a lot of work, and the constant possibility of being discovered.”

“Maybe not so much before the resort started work. We need to talk with the guy at Masters General Contracting.”

“Should we call?”

“I already did. I got him on his phone at home, evidently.”

“A workaholic?”

“Yeah, like us.” Cade snorted. “We’re going to get the grand tour and big sales pitch today. Put on your high boots.”

“Waders might be better.” When he laughed, she decided that everything was definitely okay again. A momentary aberration, left in the past.

As she rose to wash the dishes, she said, “I want a Caesar salad tonight. Grilled chicken. I can make it.”

“Or I can, whichever. Getting away from fats isn’t exactly working the way I intended.”

It was her turn to laugh. “I’ll never turn down bacon for breakfast. Or lunch or dinner. But you pay for a month’s gym membership for me if we keep on doing this.”

She was relieved to see him smile.

“I think that touring the resort today is going to burn off all that bacon and then some,” he answered. “We’ll be making like mountain goats in the cold.”

“There is that.” She wondered how cold it was that day, then decided it didn’t matter. Since winter had deepened in Wyoming, the temperatures seemed to have become irrelevant. There was cold and colder, and no thermometer was going to change her perception of that.

“Are you from a warm climate?” he asked.

“Depends on which part of my life you want to talk about. Most recently I was in Virginia. Not exactly the Mediterranean.”

“But not as cold as here.”

“Not usually. I’ll get used to it.” Just the way she’d gotten used to most things. Adaptation was necessary for a soldier.

“You’ve probably seen a lot of the world.”

“Travel, you mean? I’ve been all over, but most of what I saw were military bases.”

“No time for tourism?”

She hesitated, then decided the question was simply friendly. She guessed her guard was still high after that encounter in the bedroom. Being friendly wouldn’t kill her. Might even smooth troubled waters. “Most of the time when I went overseas I was on an assignment, an investigation, and I needed to deal with that. It was just a temporary duty, and it didn’t give me time for sightseeing.”

“That’s a shame.” But then he let go of questions about her past and mentioned his own. “I’m pretty much familiar with this state and Colorado. I used to like to spend a lot of time up at Glacier National Park in Montana, though. Camping and hiking. Not so much anymore.”

“What happened?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Every time I went back, more of the glaciers had disappeared. Hardly any left now. I got to feeling like I was watching an old friend die.”

She could understand that and felt a burst of sympathy for him. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, cold as this winter is becoming, maybe some will start growing back.” Then he snorted a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

She didn’t know what to say, but she liked what he’d revealed about himself. A guy who cared about nature. She wasn’t exactly used to that. “So did you give up hiking and camping?”

“Hell, no. I just go places where I can’t see the changes.” He glanced at the clock. “Better get ready. We’re supposed to meet Masters in half an hour.”

It didn’t take her long to pull on her hiking boots and her parka. She chose her ski mask but rolled it up so that it didn’t cover her face. Cade did the same.

But the instant she stepped outside, the cold nearly stole her breath. “My God,” she gasped. And they were going to walk around a mountain resort today?

“Yeah. We might have to cut our look-see short.”

“I can’t imagine why anyone would even want to ski in this!”

“It’s not usually this bad,” he assured her. “Usually just a few weeks at a time.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I was beginning to think I could be an investigator someplace in the South.”

He laughed again. The car started without a problem, but it didn’t warm up at all before they reached the construction trailer just west of town. Masters General Contracting sported a low-key black-and-white sign. The gravel parking lot had been mostly cleared of snow and the tires gripped it well enough.

“Why
did
you choose Wyoming?” he asked as he parked.

“Wide-open spaces, mountains, and not a whole lot of people.”

“Sick of people?”

Half of them, she thought, but self-censored. “Not really. I couldn’t think of a bigger change of pace, and I needed one.”

“I bet you did.”

They climbed out and headed for the steps leading up to the door. The trailer was skirted, and the steps weren’t rickety at all. The guy had managed to bring a sense of permanence to what was probably only a stopgap.

Inside, the trailer was warm. A man in a sweatshirt and jeans sat at a desk with a computer in front of him and the inevitable stack of papers beside him. He rose immediately, smiling. “Luke Masters. You must be DeeJay and Cade Denton.” He shook their hands warmly and immediately offered coffee.

DeeJay didn’t even want to unzip her parka yet. “Thanks. It’s cold out there. I was wondering why anyone would want to ski in this.”

“Maybe not in this weather,” he agreed. “Although you can cover your face up pretty well. But this isn’t typical.”

She couldn’t help herself. “Is there any typical weather anymore?”

Luke Masters surprised her by laughing. “Shh. Don’t inform my employers. We’re getting lots of snow, and that’s what I tell them about.”

She noted he had a slight limp as he headed for the coffeepot, once again leaving her to wonder if all the men in this place were sporting injuries.

He caught her look as he brought the pot back to the desk where three mugs, sporting his business name, were already arrayed. “Took a fall last winter up on the mountain. The leg is fine, it just objects to cold weather.”

They sat around the desk, and Luke began his pitch.

“I can show you plans and drawings to give you an idea where we intend to go. I have photos of the artist’s renderings you can keep. I can take you up on the mountain so you can see where we’re cutting the ski slopes and get a breathtaking view or two. But unfortunately I can’t take you inside what we’ve built yet. It’s very much a hard-hat area. We’re using the winter to work on interiors, but they’re a long way from looking anything close to finished.”

DeeJay slipped into her role. “Do you really intend to be open next fall?”

“Barring anything unexpected and major, yes. We won’t have fleshed out all the plans, though. We’ll be starting fairly small and expanding with demand but all the basics will be there. The resort hotel, a few of the restaurants, some of the shops. And of course the main slopes. We can always add a few more later if we need them. And once the weather improves in the spring, we’ll give the town a face-lift.”

“I was hearing some concern about that.”

He nodded. “We don’t want to change the place. It has its own character—it’s a working town, not a place created as a tourist venue. We think that’ll give it its own charm. People who want only the ski village experience can stay up on the mountain for that.”

“Good thinking,” DeeJay said approvingly. “Of course, that may be a bias of mine. Too much plastic loses the real charm.”