of hunting animals. So he causes shipwrecks. When sailors get to shore, he tracks and kills them. Oh .”
“Bingo. It’s a play on words. You can take it one way, that the most dangerous endeavor is hunting humans. Or that the most dangerous game , meaning prey , is man.” Annie gave a shiver, and Sam doubted it was from the cool night air. “In this case, woman. The Hunter strips them naked except for shoes and dumps them somewhere in the woods. He forces them to run so he can hunt them.”
“Those poor women must hope they can escape,” Nora said.
“That’s insane.” Carl threw up his hands. “With a gun?”
“It’s odd,” Annie said. “He started with a gun, a powerful hunting rifle, according to police reports. The last three victims were stabbed with a big hunting knife like—"
“Enough.” Sam pushed to his feet. “Any more will give us all nightmares.”
The campers dispersed to prepare for bed, and he doused the fire. When Annie returned from the “lounge,” as they’d dubbed the dug latrine, he followed her to her tent.
“Sorry if we boxed you in,” he said. “I get why you didn’t want to talk about the murders.”
“It wasn’t bad. I omitted the more gruesome details.” Her lips formed a crooked grin.
“This is no ordinary story for you. You have a personal stake. Is it your friend Emma?” Her dedication to this cause implied unexpected depths.
She lifted her gaze toward the stars. “She was one of the victims. Emma was younger than me, a senior at Colby College, but she and her mom Rissa were my best friends. After a weekend at home, Rissa took Emma to the bus to return to college.
“We never saw Emma again. That was October. In April, loggers found her body near Rangeley Lake. Tonight I scattered some of her ashes in Gomagash Lake.” Her voice broke.
He started to wrap his arms around her, to offer sympathy, but she’d misconstrue his intentions. Hell, no, she wouldn’t, but he’d keep his hands off anyway. “So probing her death was what led to uncovering the other murders?”
“Yes, there was something too ritualistic about the way he left her body. I couldn’t leave the story alone.” She passed a hand over her eyes. “Ironic, isn’t it? That perverted bastard commits his vicious crimes in the woods, and here I am smack in his playground.”
“He’s not here. You’ll be all right. My tent’s next to yours.” He winked at her and slid a hand around the back of her neck. Her skin was soft, smooth. Tempting. “If you have nightmares, call me. I’ll be over before you can yell twice.”
That coaxed a wider smile out of her. “That would be a nightmare.” She sidestepped his caress, unzipped her tent and crawled in. “Good night.”
He frowned at the star-filled sky.
“...stabbed with a big hunting knife like—"
“Like mine,” he whispered. Even though he’d stopped Annie, everyone knew what she’d been about to say. No need to give the thought power by uttering the words.
No way his knife going missing had anything to do with the Hunter. More likely losing it was an omen of his incompetence at guiding. That thought sent a sharp pang to his gut, as if by that very knife.
EIGHT
Thursday
Waterville
Rissa leaned against her Saab to wait for the detective to arrive. A laughing, jabbering knot of basketball campers jostled and jogged their way across the lawn. A few older teens, Colby student employees on break, sprawled in the sun.
As always on this campus, memories crowded into her mind. Memories of Emma.
She’d come home for the weekend on the bus. Had slept and eaten and caught up with her friends and her mother and Annie. On Sunday evening, Rissa had left her waiting for the Trailways bus at the Portland station.
It was the last time she saw Emma alive.
Tears burned and her shoulders drooped. She clutched her key ring with the plastic-encased snapshot. Already her daughter’s image was fading from memory. She wouldn’t
“Bingo. It’s a play on words. You can take it one way, that the most dangerous endeavor is hunting humans. Or that the most dangerous game , meaning prey , is man.” Annie gave a shiver, and Sam doubted it was from the cool night air. “In this case, woman. The Hunter strips them naked except for shoes and dumps them somewhere in the woods. He forces them to run so he can hunt them.”
“Those poor women must hope they can escape,” Nora said.
“That’s insane.” Carl threw up his hands. “With a gun?”
“It’s odd,” Annie said. “He started with a gun, a powerful hunting rifle, according to police reports. The last three victims were stabbed with a big hunting knife like—"
“Enough.” Sam pushed to his feet. “Any more will give us all nightmares.”
The campers dispersed to prepare for bed, and he doused the fire. When Annie returned from the “lounge,” as they’d dubbed the dug latrine, he followed her to her tent.
“Sorry if we boxed you in,” he said. “I get why you didn’t want to talk about the murders.”
“It wasn’t bad. I omitted the more gruesome details.” Her lips formed a crooked grin.
“This is no ordinary story for you. You have a personal stake. Is it your friend Emma?” Her dedication to this cause implied unexpected depths.
She lifted her gaze toward the stars. “She was one of the victims. Emma was younger than me, a senior at Colby College, but she and her mom Rissa were my best friends. After a weekend at home, Rissa took Emma to the bus to return to college.
“We never saw Emma again. That was October. In April, loggers found her body near Rangeley Lake. Tonight I scattered some of her ashes in Gomagash Lake.” Her voice broke.
He started to wrap his arms around her, to offer sympathy, but she’d misconstrue his intentions. Hell, no, she wouldn’t, but he’d keep his hands off anyway. “So probing her death was what led to uncovering the other murders?”
“Yes, there was something too ritualistic about the way he left her body. I couldn’t leave the story alone.” She passed a hand over her eyes. “Ironic, isn’t it? That perverted bastard commits his vicious crimes in the woods, and here I am smack in his playground.”
“He’s not here. You’ll be all right. My tent’s next to yours.” He winked at her and slid a hand around the back of her neck. Her skin was soft, smooth. Tempting. “If you have nightmares, call me. I’ll be over before you can yell twice.”
That coaxed a wider smile out of her. “That would be a nightmare.” She sidestepped his caress, unzipped her tent and crawled in. “Good night.”
He frowned at the star-filled sky.
“...stabbed with a big hunting knife like—"
“Like mine,” he whispered. Even though he’d stopped Annie, everyone knew what she’d been about to say. No need to give the thought power by uttering the words.
No way his knife going missing had anything to do with the Hunter. More likely losing it was an omen of his incompetence at guiding. That thought sent a sharp pang to his gut, as if by that very knife.
EIGHT
Thursday
Waterville
Rissa leaned against her Saab to wait for the detective to arrive. A laughing, jabbering knot of basketball campers jostled and jogged their way across the lawn. A few older teens, Colby student employees on break, sprawled in the sun.
As always on this campus, memories crowded into her mind. Memories of Emma.
She’d come home for the weekend on the bus. Had slept and eaten and caught up with her friends and her mother and Annie. On Sunday evening, Rissa had left her waiting for the Trailways bus at the Portland station.
It was the last time she saw Emma alive.
Tears burned and her shoulders drooped. She clutched her key ring with the plastic-encased snapshot. Already her daughter’s image was fading from memory. She wouldn’t
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