Hybrid (11 page)

Erik stretched his muscles methodically and then stepped into his small shower stall. He set the water for as hot as he could withstand it, causing his blood to more freely circulate into his tissues. He quickly washed and stepped out of the shower. He towel-dried his long hair, and quickly ran a brush through the black locks.

Erik paused and stared at his own reflection. Was Shanda right? He wondered: Did he wear a mask as she claimed? She had made a convincing argument and she had gotten in. No, he amended, he chose to let her in, and once she was in, he couldn't stop his mind from revealing everything that he was to her. She, in turn, allowed him to see deep inside her. She looked deeper into his being than anyone else ever had before. She saw what he was, truly, and she still accepted him for all his internal issues.

Only two telepaths could accomplish what they achieved last night. He focused his ability for a moment and called up the memories she imbedded upon his mind. She had placed her memories into his mind, to be there forever. It was the most intimate gift that one person could give another.

Erik quietly crept back into his room and slipped into his camo hunting pants and black T-shirt. He went into the living room and picked up his guns from the place Shanda had deposited them last night, and put the intricate garment around his torso. He picked up the sheath containing the throwing knives and tucked them into his right hiking boot. Erik picked up a large pack that strapped around his waist with a thick nylon web belt and clip. Through the belt, he had placed his large Jim Bowie hunting knife, a Velcro pouch that contained a compass, and a small igniter for lighting fires.

He knew this was only a day search, but his survival training in the military had taught him to always carry certain essentials, and his PI training had always taught him to carry his guns while working. Today, he used the teachings of both.

He heard Shanda stirring behind him. “Good morning,” he whispered as he brushed his lips against her cheek.

She responded by gently wrapping her arms around him. “What time is it?” She sat up.

“Nearly 6:30; I've got to get rolling in a few minutes.”

“Can I borrow your truck?” she asked. “I don't feel like waiting around for another cab.”

“Sure thing. What happened to your car?”

“Back in the shop,” she replied as she yawned.

“So how did you plan on getting home last night?” Erik inquired.

“Who says I planned on going home?” She had a coy look on her face.

Erik raised his eyebrow and she responded by laughing at him.

* * * *

Erik pulled his truck over to the side of the road by Hopedale Park. Shanda noticed two large vans and several town police cars already parked on either side of the road. She saw Erik shake his head and roll his eyes upward as he killed the ignition.

“What's wrong?” Shanda slid over to the driver's seat.

“Nothing like being subtle,” Erik replied in disbelief. “Why don't they just phone the local paper?”

Shanda giggled as he stepped out of the vehicle. “I'll meet you at Madame's for dinner?” she asked hopefully. “My treat this time.” Erik nodded in approval.

“Erik?” she said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Please be careful. Something's not right; I can sense it.”

“That's why I carry these.” He lightly gestured to the twin 45s hanging within quick reach inside his shoulder holster.

She wrinkled her nose. “Just promise me you'll be cautious.”

“I will.”

“Good.” Shanda reached over to him and kissed him deeply. The kiss caught him by surprise but he returned the affection eagerly. “For luck.” She smiled.

“Thanks. I think we'll need it today; we're looking for a needle in a haystack.” Erik gently stroked her cheek and turned away.

Shanda watched him walk toward the vans and police cars. She noticed how he really did seem to stand out from the others around him. She realized that his rogue quality was what made him unique and special, and what attracted her to him so strongly.

* * * *

“Mr. Knight, right on time, excellent,” Nelson remarked. “We're just about to kick off our little jaunt into this jolly green paradise you have here.”

Nelson led Erik over to where the other two operatives and three police officers were carefully reviewing a map of the forest. There were several pins and marks strategically placed around the map, locating possible points of investigation. The younger Halls operative gave Erik a brief smile of acknowledgment, which he quickly returned. The operative went back to staring at the map when Nelson began speaking.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” he began. “We will be conducting a three-stage operation this morning—our agency, in cooperation with the local police and a local experienced investigator.” He looked over at Erik. “My people will start at these points here.” He pointed to specific points of the map. “The Hopedale officers have graciously agreed to patrol this area here, while another officer will divert the human traffic from the areas we'll be searching.

“Another thing to keep in mind, we have another missing persons report filed. A female jogger never made it home a few nights ago. The odds are she's in here somewhere, too. Keep your eyes open, all of you; the last thing we need are injuries. Each man will take one radio and one linear chip. The chip emits a microwave signal that we can track from the computers in this van. Our Command Control Van will know where you are at all times; keep in touch. The search effort will be coordinated from here.” He handed out the equipment to each man.

“Mr. Knight is the only man here with knowledge of the unmarked woodlands in this area. He gets the thankless job of heading out into that deeper scrub. Mr. Knight, you especially keep in touch. We wouldn't want you to wind up as dinner for a pack of wild dogs or a cougar, or whatever else may be living up there. I expect call-ins from everyone on the mark, each quarter hour,” Nelson ordered.

The equipment was all dispensed and Erik took the chip and placed it in one of the bullet clip pouches on his gun holster, then fastened the radio to his belt.

“Everyone, be careful. We've got a job to do, so let's do it,” he concluded.

Erik was about to head off when the senior Hall operative, Nelson, pulled him aside.

“Mr. Knight, keep your eyes open. If anyone has a chance at finding anything, odds are it will be you. These radios have a range of about five to eight miles, so you should be able to contact us no matter how deep you get into those woods. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Erik replied as he turned to enter the parklands with the other men.

* * * *

Erik had assisted the youngest of the Hall agents, Henderson, on his search of one of the outer-most trails until he reached the designated area that led to the deepest trail and into the wild areas of the parklands. He could tell that the young man was uncomfortable in these surroundings. Erik told him which trails led back across the lake, and which trails would take him deeper into the forest. The two parted ways and Erik began his walk on the outmost path to the woods.

His extra senses automatically kicked in. He became aware of wind patterns. Sounds increased in clarity as did his awareness of everything around him. He clearly smelled the various scents of different flowers and plants. He had to stop momentarily and allow his mind a few extra seconds to process the sudden increase in sensory information.

His vision became far more acute than it normally was, as if somebody had placed magnifying lenses inside his eyes. He could see more detail and focus on objects in the distance and see them clearly. Once his brain had adjusted to the increased stimulus, he continued on his way, his mind analyzing the extended sensory information at incredible speed. Up ahead, he noticed some disturbances in the path.

Erik walked another fifty yards when he came across a set of footprints. He knelt down and studied the tread pattern of the shoes. He could tell by the exaggerated tread pattern that he was looking at the print of a cross county running shoe of some type. He moved ahead cautiously, spotting more footprints. He could tell, by the general size and shape, that they were most likely female. He reached over to his radio and keyed the transmitter.

“Knight to base. Over,” Erik called, using his designated call sign.

“Go, Knight. Over,” the reply came with slight static.

“I've got footprints on the outer-most white path. Size and shape indicate female. The track was made by some type of cross country shoe. These tracks are no more than a day old. Over.” There were a few seconds of silence before the response came.

“Noted; proceed with caution. Over.”

“Gee, now why didn't I think of that?” He shook his head.

Erik slowly covered more ground, and then suddenly stopped when he observed that the footprints were haphazardly placed all over the trail. He cautiously began to move forward, careful not to disturb any potential evidence, and then followed the set of footprints deeper into the trails.

His eyes quickly spotted another set of single tracks overlaying some of the others, but going in the opposite direction. He went another fifty yards, when those tracks came to an abrupt halt. Erik knelt down and studied one track in particular. It was half in and half out of a sharp depression in the trail. He looked over and saw that the leaves beyond the track were disturbed. Erik studied the scene for several moments, trying to put the entire thing together in his mind. The tracks told a story, but he wasn't sure what. Suddenly, it dawned on him.

He noted that the right foot on one set of tracks left a scuffing trail. He also saw other various depressions in the soil. He knelt down and followed the line of the tracks to a large tree off of the trail. He followed that set over to the tree, careful not to disturb any of the tracks with his own.

“Okay.” Erik sighed. “She was running. She tripped, possibly injuring her right leg. She hobbled over to this tree, possibly crawled; that would explain the weird depressions.”

Something caught his eye under some fresh leaf fall. He walked over to the object and knew exactly what it was, a running shoe—a running shoe that probably belonged to the missing person.

“Oh crap!” he whispered under his breath. He reached into the pack he was carrying and pulled out a large Ziploc bag. He placed the open bag over the shoe and scooped it in, along with the few leaves and debris that were around it.

“Knight to Command. Over.”

“Command, go ahead. Over.”

“I've got more tracks, and a single women's running shoe, bagged and tagged. From the pattern of the tracks so far, it looks like our missing jogger had an accident, possibly a fall leading to an ankle fracture. We may want to send more men out here. Over.”

“Noted; we'll have a few uniforms head up there. We have you locked at grid 7, quadrant 9. Over.”

“I'm going to look for some more tracks; there's no way in hell she just walked out of here on her own!” Erik exclaimed. “Please, God, let me find her alive,” Erik whispered.

“We didn't copy that last part. Over,” the radio responded.

“Just mumbling. Over.” Erik replaced the transmitter. “All right, lady, where the hell did you hobble off to?” Erik muttered. Then he sensed something. His eyes narrowed and his senses locked in combat alert. The detective sampled the air; no unusual scent. He walked slowly back down the path toward the edge of the trail. He spotted a series of broken bushes, disturbed leaves, and upturned dirt on the pathway. He had been focusing so intently on the footprints that he walked right by it without even noticing.

He knew something was dragged through here, and he got that uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Erik noticed more small footprints and some other unusual tracks that he didn't recognize. He knelt down by the strange track, carefully studying the depth and indentations; they were the same age as the footprints, but much larger and deeper.

“What the hell kind of shoe made these?” he whispered as he examined the print more closely. “This guy's gotta be huge.” Erik now knew that he wouldn't find the missing jogger alive; somebody attacked her, and with all probability it was the same person that had abducted Lisa Reynolds. This probably meant that the Reynolds girl's body was out here somewhere as well. He reached into his pack and pulled out some bright orange marker tape and tied a large, ungainly bow tie knot onto a broken limb. He reached over to his radio and activated the unit.

“This is Knight. I'm getting a bad feeling. Get those uniforms up here now. I found a drag trail that shouldn't be here, and there are two sets of footprints all around it. I think something very bad happened to ‘Jane Doe’ up here. I've marked the discovery with trail tape. I'm proceeding in, weapons unlocked. Over.” He freed both Wilson Super 45s from their holsters.

Erik made his way into the woods, every instinct in his body on full alert. It took no real skill to follow this trail; it was easily marked with dug-up leaves, dirt, and broken saplings. The detective's hyper senses were scanning every minute detail as he walked deeper into the unmarked forest. Both Wilson auto pistols reflected the tree-filtered sunlight off their muted stainless steel barrel slides. He smelled the faint odor of decay. It grew stronger the deeper he went into the woods.

Erik heard a low growling sound coming from his right side. He pivoted and adopted a defensive combat stance. From out of the brush came the largest cougar he had ever seen. Erik leveled the barrels of both weapons at the cat. The cat sensed the threat and stopped its approach.

“Nice kitty,” Erik whispered. “Nice kitty with the big fangs and sharp claws,” he added with a nervous chuckle.

Erik had been in these woods for years, and had never encountered feline predators this close to the main trails before. The larger cats and coyotes usually stayed higher up in the mountain.

“Don't make me shoot you, cat.”

Erik could sense the animal's feelings; it felt threatened by his presence. Erik looked directly into the big cat's eyes and didn't blink. He focused his telepathic abilities on the animal, crouching down to the cat's eyelevel and slowly placing one pistol back into his harness.