time was approaching for the next prey to be
selected.
The beast loved the openness of the landscape and the
isolation of the inhabitants. It made hunting so much easier. Today it would
find a small inhabitant of the wooded area to take the edge off its appetite.
They were so easy to kill there was almost no pleasure in it. But for the devil
beast it was as much about amusement as it was about eating, and drinking the
blood so essential to existence.
It lifted its misshapen snout into the wind, sniffing. A
scent drifted on the air.
Human!
Here? Now?
No. Far away. And more than one. Not a target for hunting.
A sharp pain stabbed through the creature’s head at the
blend of smells and it slunk back into the cave, curling in on itself on the
ground. Later, when the breath-stealing pain was gone, it would scout the area
for its next victim.
Later.
Nearly blinded by the pain, it closed its eyes and reached
for the relief of sleep.
* * * * *
They split up outside the barracks. Bobby sent the other
four members of the team off in pairs to begin questioning people within a
ten-mile radius of the crime scene.
“They’ll bring you back reports,” he said as Sophia opened
her mouth to object. “But you know how much snow we got and how hard it’s going
to be to get around. Annie and Ray are taking the big pickup and hauling
snowmobiles with them to get to some of the folks who aren’t plowed yet.” He
took off his hat, rubbed his head, put it back on again. “This snow has fucked
everything up.”
“You know I’m going to want to do some scouting myself,” she
told him.
Bobby made a sound of frustration. “Sophia, that’s a lot of
miles to cover. That could take days.”
“I need to see for myself where the creature could dig in
and hide. Where it could hunt for its next victim.” She planted her hands on
her hips. “Bobby, don’t get in my way on this. Please. You’ll be damn upset if
someone gets killed because you do. This creature kills in a pattern of three.
You want to wait for the next two bodies?”
“Fine, fine.” He shook his head, exasperated. “Whatever you
want, okay? But you said the first thing you wanted was to see the crime scene
so that’s where we’re going.”
“Fine,” she snapped back. “Good. Then let’s get going.”
Sophia was happy to note that the plows had obviously been
busy after the snowfall of the previous night. The streets of Houlton were
pretty clear as was Route 1. She hoped the same could be said of the driveway
at Darrell Franklin’s fish camp which, according to the map, was off Highway
227 west of Presque Isle.
She needn’t have worried. Someone—Bobby or Rebecca—had
apparently been on top of it. Three state police vehicles formed a line in the
freshly cleared narrow path that left just enough room for someone to walk by
them. Bobby Lacroix was waiting for them in front of the lead car, the others
in the team gathered around him. Everyone’s face was carefully blank.
The fish camp sat in an ocean of snow punctuated by the
stark skeletons of trees. Next to the house itself was a huge barn and beyond
that a row of cabins stretched down to Alder Pond. The pond was frozen over now
and the cabins closed until spring.
“This place is really at the ass end of nowhere,” Logan
commented as he looked around.
“Like I said yesterday,” Sophia said as she and Rebecca
exited the SUV right behind him, “I’m guessing it’s not much different from a
lot of Montana.”
He gave a mirthless chuckle. “Yeah, you got that right.”
Rebecca led the way to where the others waited. “Thanks to
whoever remembered to shovel a path to the doorway,” she told him.
“Paul Maquire, the campground owner who found him, took care
of all this for us,” Bobby told her. “In fact, he should be along any minute. I
figured your sister and her friend would want to talk to him.”
Sophia stepped up next to her sister. “Thank you, Bobby. We
appreciate anything you
selected.
The beast loved the openness of the landscape and the
isolation of the inhabitants. It made hunting so much easier. Today it would
find a small inhabitant of the wooded area to take the edge off its appetite.
They were so easy to kill there was almost no pleasure in it. But for the devil
beast it was as much about amusement as it was about eating, and drinking the
blood so essential to existence.
It lifted its misshapen snout into the wind, sniffing. A
scent drifted on the air.
Human!
Here? Now?
No. Far away. And more than one. Not a target for hunting.
A sharp pain stabbed through the creature’s head at the
blend of smells and it slunk back into the cave, curling in on itself on the
ground. Later, when the breath-stealing pain was gone, it would scout the area
for its next victim.
Later.
Nearly blinded by the pain, it closed its eyes and reached
for the relief of sleep.
* * * * *
They split up outside the barracks. Bobby sent the other
four members of the team off in pairs to begin questioning people within a
ten-mile radius of the crime scene.
“They’ll bring you back reports,” he said as Sophia opened
her mouth to object. “But you know how much snow we got and how hard it’s going
to be to get around. Annie and Ray are taking the big pickup and hauling
snowmobiles with them to get to some of the folks who aren’t plowed yet.” He
took off his hat, rubbed his head, put it back on again. “This snow has fucked
everything up.”
“You know I’m going to want to do some scouting myself,” she
told him.
Bobby made a sound of frustration. “Sophia, that’s a lot of
miles to cover. That could take days.”
“I need to see for myself where the creature could dig in
and hide. Where it could hunt for its next victim.” She planted her hands on
her hips. “Bobby, don’t get in my way on this. Please. You’ll be damn upset if
someone gets killed because you do. This creature kills in a pattern of three.
You want to wait for the next two bodies?”
“Fine, fine.” He shook his head, exasperated. “Whatever you
want, okay? But you said the first thing you wanted was to see the crime scene
so that’s where we’re going.”
“Fine,” she snapped back. “Good. Then let’s get going.”
Sophia was happy to note that the plows had obviously been
busy after the snowfall of the previous night. The streets of Houlton were
pretty clear as was Route 1. She hoped the same could be said of the driveway
at Darrell Franklin’s fish camp which, according to the map, was off Highway
227 west of Presque Isle.
She needn’t have worried. Someone—Bobby or Rebecca—had
apparently been on top of it. Three state police vehicles formed a line in the
freshly cleared narrow path that left just enough room for someone to walk by
them. Bobby Lacroix was waiting for them in front of the lead car, the others
in the team gathered around him. Everyone’s face was carefully blank.
The fish camp sat in an ocean of snow punctuated by the
stark skeletons of trees. Next to the house itself was a huge barn and beyond
that a row of cabins stretched down to Alder Pond. The pond was frozen over now
and the cabins closed until spring.
“This place is really at the ass end of nowhere,” Logan
commented as he looked around.
“Like I said yesterday,” Sophia said as she and Rebecca
exited the SUV right behind him, “I’m guessing it’s not much different from a
lot of Montana.”
He gave a mirthless chuckle. “Yeah, you got that right.”
Rebecca led the way to where the others waited. “Thanks to
whoever remembered to shovel a path to the doorway,” she told him.
“Paul Maquire, the campground owner who found him, took care
of all this for us,” Bobby told her. “In fact, he should be along any minute. I
figured your sister and her friend would want to talk to him.”
Sophia stepped up next to her sister. “Thank you, Bobby. We
appreciate anything you
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