Undercover Hunter Read online

  “In this town,” DeeJay remarked after the sheriff left, “I suspect it takes more than a few days to win local trust.”

  “Most likely. But let’s get out those files and burn some midnight oil. Maybe we’ll get a clue. Mostly I’d like to see if we can get a sense of his time cycle. Is he speeding up? Maybe, maybe not. But at least we’ll have some idea how long we have before the next kid goes missing.”

  “We’ve got to stop it before then.”

  Cade nodded, his aquamarine eyes regarding her with something close to genuine warmth. “I’m praying for it.”

  * * *

  At midnight, Calvin Sweet signed out from the crisis response center. One woman was leaving at the same time, and he offered to see her safely to her car.

  “Thanks, Calvin,” Dory Patterson said, and patted his cheek. He was a handsome, pleasant young man, and she was just old enough to get away with the gesture. “You’re very thoughtful.”

  “Well, people are afraid,” he said. “Terrible thing about that boy disappearing.”

  “Yes, it is,” she answered as they stepped outside onto the crunchy snow. “At least you don’t have to worry.”

  Calvin simply smiled, savoring his secret.

  “But then, neither do I,” she remarked.

  He shook his head. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned from working crisis hotlines, it’s that women are at risk. Better to be escorted to your car. It’s the least I can do. I’m parked, what, fifteen feet away?”

  Dory laughed, a surprisingly girlish sound from a woman who must have been pushing fifty. “I appreciate it. I’m sure you’ve seen more of the big bad world than I have.”

  “Big cities,” he admitted. “More opportunities for trouble.”

  “Well, you do a great job on the phones. I’ve heard you. But it must seem awfully slow here after working in bigger places.”

  He stood and waited while she unlocked her car. “You know, Dory, I’m happiest when we aren’t needed at all. Makes you wonder about the human race when the calls are coming in constantly.”

  “I bet it would.” She slid into the driver’s seat and looked up at him. “I’m glad you didn’t come back for a construction job. We needed you here.” Then she paused. “I realize it was a long time ago, but I am sorry about your mother’s passing. She was a good woman.”

  “Yes, she was,” Calvin agreed.

  He stepped back and watched Dory drive away, amazed at how little of the truth ever got out. No one in this crummy place had any idea how he had been treated by that woman, how many times he’d had an “accident” that was no accident. He didn’t miss his mother at all.

  Climbing into his truck, he wondered if he might not be getting a little revenge on all the people who had been so blind. No, he decided he wasn’t. His purpose was higher than that.

  But he was aware of the urge starting to grow in him again, stalking him like a living thing. And this time he felt himself wanting a woman. No. He shook himself. Too soon.

  Damn, he was thinking about taking a woman again. He hated it every time that urge arose. It might provide additional concealment, or it could prove his undoing. Nor did he understand exactly how it fit his mission, which unnerved him a bit.

  The sky had cleared and a carpet of stars, brilliant as diamonds, filled it as he drove away from the town’s lights. Maybe the Egyptians had been right. Maybe each one of his boys had become a star up there now. He turned the idea around and decided he liked it. They were pure now, gleaming lights showing the way. Yes.

  When he got home, he almost hiked out to his barn to enjoy his trophies for a few minutes, but the wind cut hard and stole his breath. It could wait for morning. They wouldn’t get lonely anymore. He had saved them from that.

  Once inside, though, he felt a shift in his perspective. Light and color seemed brighter.

  It was too soon.

  The warning came from someplace deep inside him. In the city it had been different. He’d been able to hunt more often. In cities people disappeared all the time. He was well aware that out here they didn’t. And while he didn’t mind taking some risks, he was in no hurry to leave this place. He hadn’t yet filled his web. He didn’t want to leave the job half-done.

  Sitting in an old rocker, he began to rock, trying to still the urges inside him. He knew he couldn’t afford to lose control of them. His mission would never be completed if he did something stupid. The mind must control the need, always. It was a sign of his strength that he could.

  He was getting stronger, he reminded himself. With each boy, he gained power and purity, but he was a long way from done.

  He forced his mind to other things and lit on something he’d heard at the call center that night. There were two travel writers in town, a married couple. Bad timing for the town, he thought with sour pleasure. Search parties going out every day, everyone looking over their shoulders...

  He leaned back and smiled, the urge easing. He’d caused that. A sign of his growing power. He was approaching utter control of himself.

  His thoughts trailed back to those travel writers he’d heard about. Who the hell would miss one of them? Nobody around here. He wondered if the woman looked anything like his mother.

  Yeah, if it came to that...

  But it wouldn’t. Not yet. He was still in control of himself and, when he thought about it, most of the people around. He saw them as puppets on strings, little marionettes. He could make them afraid, very afraid. He could make them spend their days searching the countryside for a missing boy instead of pursuing their regular lives.

  Power. It was a great thing. Taking a woman would enhance it even though it wouldn’t fulfill his mission. He’d done it twice before and found a wholly different kind of satisfaction.

  Something to think about.

  Rocking slowly, he smiled into the darkened room. Damn, he was good.

  Chapter 3

  Cade woke early in the morning, despite having sat up until just after two combing over every bit in the file with DeeJay. It was a sadly thin file, one they needed to pad out. But you could never be sure when some little item might open a door in your thinking.

  He sat in the kitchen while coffee brewed, facts and details running around in his head like skittering mice. Not much in the way of pattern yet, not enough for predicting much.

  Sighing, he rubbed his eyes. DeeJay, he reluctantly admitted, was turning out to be an okay partner. While she was absorbed in the job, she pulled in those bristles and became tolerable. Clearly a good detective, and he thanked God that she could put personalities aside for the sake of work. He didn’t care what kind of hell she gave him otherwise, as long as they got this case solved before someone else’s kid disappeared.

  He understood what she meant about the sickening and sickened minds that became serial killers. He’d heard all the psychological theories about how they’d been abused kids, how many had suffered brain damage at some point. But any way he added it up, the world was full of people who’d been abused and brain damaged and they didn’t commit crimes like this.

  The idea that someone out there was enjoying all of this nearly made him want to resign from the human race.

  The coffee finished brewing and he rose to get a cup. Kelly Jackson had been right: the place was decently furnished. Ready to use. He wondered if Jackson would rent it to tourists once the resort opened. People who couldn’t afford the fancy hotel prices up on the mountain but might want to take a little house for a week as a base of operations.

  He’d bought some sweet rolls when they stopped at the grocery for odds and ends, and as his stomach growled he brought out the package. Coffee and a cinnamon bun. It didn’t get much better.

  But then DeeJay showed up, rumpled in yesterday’s clothes. Apparently the coffee had beat out an urge for a sh
ower and clean togs.

  “May I?” she asked.

  “Help yourself. Coffee’s community property. Rolls, too.”

  A faint smile curved one corner of her mouth. So it was possible. She didn’t look pinched and disapproving, but maybe that was because she had just wakened. Give her time to ramp up, he thought, mildly amused.

  She didn’t say anything until she’d packed away a full mug of coffee and half a roll. Then she pushed her mussed hair back from her face and put her chin in her hands. Unlike most women, she didn’t say the usual I must look a fright. Apparently, she didn’t care.

  “We didn’t get a whole lot out of that file last night,” she remarked.

  “Unfortunately. Nothing of real predictive value, unless I missed something.”

  “Well, he seemed to accelerate just a little before it all stopped the first time, but these latest disappearances... He’s spacing it. Unusual.” Then she sighed again. “Three isn’t a large enough sample set. There’s some evidence of acceleration, but it’s hard to be sure. If he’s got that much self-control, we might have some time.”

  Most of these killers began to lose control of their impulses and act with increasing rapidity. So far this guy hadn’t, not in any meaningful way.

  “So in theory,” she said, “we’ve got three weeks, a month, before his next move and next to nothing to go on. But we can’t afford to count on that.”

  “I know. He could snatch and grab again this week if a victim appeals to him.” And that was the devil of it. You could count on most serial killers to stick with a victim type, to stick to their ritual, whatever it was, but there was no sliding scale to accurately predict when they’d act again. Never.

  DeeJay spoke again after a brief silence. “Imagine him hanging his trophies in that cargo netting in the woods. Like advertising. He had to have known they’d eventually be found.”

  “Maybe.” He reached for another roll, then went to get the coffeepot and refilled both their mugs. “I need to know more about how many people go up into those mountains. Hikers and the like. Sooner or later someone would find it, obviously, but after a few years, how much would be left?”

  “The netting would rot,” she agreed. “It wasn’t nylon or plastic. If the bodies hadn’t been wrapped in plastic, they wouldn’t have found much as it was. Do you suppose he’d try that again in the winter?”

  Cade thought about it. “He did it once before. Or maybe he kept some of his victims in cold storage until the weather got better.”

  “He could be doing that now.” She shook her head. “He likes risks, but he’s not stupid. My guess is he won’t be hanging them in the woods this time.”

  Cade eyed her sharply. “Why?”

  She shrugged one shoulder. “I bet he wasn’t happy to lose his trophies.”

  “He must have known he was giving them up when he went away.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. He might have thought they’d never be found. Regardless, he knows they’re gone now, and it wouldn’t make him happy. He needs something more secure, and the way he hung the first ones seems to indicate a need to admire his trophies. To relive the experience.”

  Cade nodded. It was a common enough impulse among serial killers. That’s why they kept trophies, to relive the emotional high they’d gotten. “How many serial killers have you studied who didn’t accelerate?”

  “None. I don’t know whether the compulsion gets stronger or they start to feel invincible. I do know of some cases where they wanted to be caught and stopped. We don’t know which kind we’re dealing with here.”

  “I’m wondering because he came back. Gage is scouring the files for anyone who might have been picked up by the law five years ago and got released last spring or so. Nothing so far. But unless he was in prison, he chose to leave. That means he chose to come back here. That could be key.”

  “It could be.” She ate another mouthful of roll and washed it down with coffee. “Thanks for these. A power bar doesn’t sound good right now.”

  “My pleasure. We could get breakfast at the diner a little later when we go to see the sheriff. I guess search parties are going out again today, but he’s not planning to be out there until this afternoon.”

  “They won’t find anything.” Her tone was almost sad. “So if he chose to come back, why? Unfinished business? Wanting to see if his trophies were still there? Thumbing his nose at the people around here? Because I’m not buying stupid.”

  “What kind of unfinished business?” he wondered.

  Her dark eyes met his, looking almost hollow. “Who knows? But I’d wager it’s personal. He’s got something to settle, and he needs to settle it here. A demon’s riding him.”

  “I’d call him a demon.”

  “No argument from me.” She glanced at the digital clock on the stove front. “I guess I need to clean up to get ready for the day.” She pushed back from the table, and a minute later he heard the wheels of her suitcase trundling down the hall to the bathroom.

  * * *

  Her eyes felt full of grit, but nights on short sleep were nothing new to DeeJay. A shower and some more coffee and she’d be fit. Plus some protein. Those rolls had been great, but she needed eggs and bacon to power up her brain.

  She reached a decision in the shower, however. Cade Bankston wasn’t all that bad. Maybe he hadn’t wanted her as a partner for some reason, but nothing about him seemed misogynistic, at least when it came to work. They’d been cooperating like equals since last night, and she’d had enough of the other kind of relationship to appreciate it.

  So okay, they could work together, which was a huge load off her shoulders.

  The house seemed to have an ample hot water heater. She’d been living in a place where she’d invariably wound up rinsing the soap off in frigid water, no joke in winter Wyoming. She allowed herself an extra minute to luxuriate but, remembering that Cade might well want a shower, too, she sighed and stepped out, reaching for a folded towel from a stack on a shelf over the toilet.

  Not bad for a cheap rental and a whole lot better than some of the motels her former job had put her in. Even the couch had been a satisfactory bed.

  Little spots of color had been added to each room, as if the former occupant—Kelly?—had tried to inject some cheer. She figured her husband, Hank, had taken care of all that in the end.

  When she finished dressing in jeans and a flannel shirt, and her combed, wet hair was tucked behind her ears, she closed her suitcase and stepped out. Men’s voices reached her from the kitchen. It didn’t sound like the sheriff.

  Curious, she ditched her bag at the end of the couch and followed the sound. A strange man was there, and he rose to his feet instantly.

  “DeeJay, this is our landlord Hank Jackson, Kelly’s husband.”

  DeeJay shook the offered hand and smiled. “You have a nice wife.”

  “I think so.” He smiled, a warm, unguarded expression. “But I’m the lucky one. So I was asking Cade here if you two need anything. Kelly left most stuff she used here, but you never know.”

  DeeJay pulled out the remaining chair and sat. Only then did Hank sit. The way he stuck out one of his legs indicated he had some kind of old or new injury. Did all the men around here have broken bodies?

  “I was just thinking,” DeeJay said, “that this place has a great hot water heater. I was tempted to indulge.”

  Hank’s smile widened. “I like my hot showers. I figured other folks would, too. It’s a big tank.”

  “Then I’ll enjoy the next one longer.”

  Cade spoke. “Hank was just saying that they’re running another search party today. He’s got to leave shortly.”

  “That’s so sad about the boy,” DeeJay said. What else could she say?

  “This creep better hope I don’t get to him first.” Hank’s
face hardened. “Preying on the weak...I have no tolerance for it. None.”

  DeeJay could sympathize, but given that they were officers of the law... She glanced at Cade, wondering whether to let it pass. Before she could speak, however, he did it.

  “You know, you’ve got a pregnant wife,” Cade said.

  “I know.” Hank’s face relaxed. “I won’t turn into a vigilante. But sometimes you wish...”

  “Yeah,” DeeJay agreed. “Sometimes you do.” And they were supposed to be travel writers, so she steered the conversation. “Are you planning to rent this place to people who come here to ski?”

  “I might. Still need to do some work if I go that way. I rented it most of the summer to a couple who came out here to work on the resort. They’re supposed to be back in the spring.” He paused. “You going to write about this kidnapping in your article?”

  DeeJay shook her head. “I’m sure it will all be solved. No, we’re here to get to know the town a bit and pump up how this could be a great resort.”

  “Good,” said Hank, pushing back from the table. “This place has suffered enough since the semiconductor plant closed. We need more jobs and a better economy.” Then he flashed a smile. “We’re friendly folk here. Usually.”

  DeeJay smiled. “I’ll try to keep that in mind. That Mavis at the diner is something else.”

  “Wait till you meet her mother, Maude. Mavis is still batting in the farm team.”

  * * *

  They left the house a short while later with tablet computers in cases that also allowed them to carry small paper notebooks, pens and business cards. Handy little designs, suggesting they were serious writers. Also serious cops, but image was everything.