LustUndone (20 page)

Logan snorted. “Yeah, right. Leave in what? There’s no
evidence of another vehicle here.”

Rebecca had walked up to join them. “I tried to tell that to
the team but it’s almost as if they don’t want to hear me.” Her voice was edged
with frustration.

“They’re good detectives,” Sophia protested. “Why are they
being so stubborn about this?”

“Because they think our theory is nuts,” Logan told her,
“and they’re determined to prove us wrong. I’ll admit it’s pretty farfetched
but you’d think they’d pay attention to all the proof we’ve got.”

“It’s almost as if they’re afraid to admit we’re right,”
Sophia said. “They’ve been very polite about listening to us and looking at
everything but you can tell they just wish we’d go away.”

“I’m sure Bobby’s convinced he’s got a homicidal maniac
running around but I think this was more personal,” Logan told her. “I don’t
believe it has any connection to Darrell Franklin.”

“If you tell him that,” Bec pointed out, “he’ll just get his
back up. He thinks he’s back on familiar ground and he can start looking for a
crazed homicidal maniac.”

“He needs to look into who would want to kill this woman,”
Sophia said. “That’s his starting point.”

Logan blew out a breath of frustration and shoved his hands
into his pockets. “Maybe if I mention to him that I don’t think this is the
work of a creature he doesn’t even believe in we can go from there.”

Bobby listened as Logan explained his theory although he
didn’t seem particularly open to it. “What are the chances we have two killings
exactly alike, as horrendous as this, in a county like this?” he asked. “There
has to be a connection.”

“But they aren’t exactly alike,” Sophia protested. “For one
thing, Elaine Warren’s got a bump on her head the size of an orange. Darrell
Franklin didn’t have one. Nor have any of the other Chupacabra victims.”

Bobby rubbed his gloved hand over his face, tension in every
line of his body. “Forgetting about your crazy theory, what are you suggesting?
Any
other
alternatives?”

Sophia shrugged. “Isn’t the spouse the first person you look
at in every killing?”

“You mean Harland?” He glanced over at the man, now standing
with Scott and another detective. “No, I can’t see that. Besides, what
connection does he have to Darrell Franklin?”

“My point exactly,” she told him. “There’s
no
connection between those two killings.”

“Because Franklin wasn’t killed by a human predator,”
Rebecca added, “and Elaine Warren was. Bobby, don’t be so stubborn. At least
consider the possibility.”

“You’re driving me nuts, you know that.” He rubbed his face
again, the lines of tension cutting deep groves into his cold-roughened skin.
“I’ve got to get back to my sergeant with all of this, and he’s going to have
to confer with the public relations office in Augusta.”

Logan frowned. “Why Augusta?”

“Because it’s the state capital and that’s where his office
is located. All statements—and I mean
all—
come from his office. But
he’ll want Greg to sign off on everything first. Shit, shit, shit. What a
fucking mess.”

“Will you at least look into her life, okay?” Sophia asked.
“What can you lose?”

“All right, all right.” He stared at Sophia. “I know you
don’t agree that this is probably some illegal who snuck over the border, but
holy shit, Sophia. I can’t see anyone around here doing something this
bizarre.”

She started to say something but he cut her off with a sharp
movement of his hand.

“We’re also borrowing deputies from the sheriff to help with
this. I’ll give them assignments to question people. Including friends and
neighbors of the Warrens,” he added before she could say something. “Make sure
we aren’t tripping over each other.”

When he walked away Logan turned to Sophia. “I’m surprised
the sheriff isn’t handling this anyway.”

“In Maine the state police have jurisdiction over all murder
cases. The county sheriff and his staff assist but that’s it.”

“I’d say we can do a little nosing around ourselves,” he
said, “but agreeing that this isn’t the work of the Chupacabra, it’s still out
there and we have to find it.” He looked at Sophia. “Clint’s going out with me
again tonight. He’s got some ideas of other places to look.”

“I can make some phone calls,” Rebecca told him. “There are
people I know who I can ask about the Warrens. People who might know if there
was trouble in their marriage.” She looked from Logan to Sophia and back again.
“People who might tell me personally things they wouldn’t tell any of the guys
or the sheriff’s deputies.”

“Then do it,” Sophia told her. “I’ll make some, also, to
people I remember. We can tell Bobby we’re going to do everything we can to
help him out.”

She nodded. “We should still take the snowmobiles out again,
too. Not waste one minute.”

“Agreed.”

Logan pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Meanwhile
I’m going to take some pictures and send them back to the ranch. Dante
Martello, one of our team,” he told Rebecca, “is very good with photographic
comparisons. He can tell us for sure if this is the devil beast or not.”

“Good idea. And I’ll go let Bobby know what we’re up to.
He’ll just tell me we’re wasting our time with the snowmobiles, but as long as
he sees we’re also working with his theory I don’t think he’ll object.
Certainly not as far as you two are concerned.”

“I don’t want him to pull you away from us,” Logan told her.

She grinned at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll work my charm on
him.”

* * * * *

Logan was beginning to think the beast had vaporized or
disappeared in some other way. On the way to get the snowmobiles he and Sophia
had stopped at the motel so they could check in at Desolation Ranch via webcam.
Logan had already sent the pictures directly from his cell and he hoped Dante
had looked at them already. And maybe had some other information for them.

“The time period between kills is running out,” he told Ric,
“and we’re getting damn frustrated.”

“I understand,” Ric said. “Believe me.”

“Did Dante get a chance to compare the photos I shot with
the ones we sent of Darrell Franklin? And also those you have of the kills in
South Texas?”

“He did. And he agrees with you. Take a look. I’m putting
them up on the screen. And here’s Dante to give you his opinion.”

Logan and Sophia watched while Ric’s face disappeared from
the computer to be replaced by the images on the large screen in the ranch’s
comm room. Five photos were up there side by side, all the bodies of Chupacabra
victims.

“You’re looking at four different bodies.” Now it was Dante
Martello’s voice coming over the microphone. “You can see the difference
immediately in the cut down the length. Those from the confirmed Chupacabra
kills have slightly ragged edges while the one on this latest body is clean,
almost like an incision. I’d say it was done with some kind of very sharp
instrument.”

“That’s what I thought,” Logan agreed.

“Also,” Dante went on, “the puncture wounds at the neck look
as if they were made by a tool of some kind rather than fangs or sharp teeth.”

“There was an attempt to drain the blood,” Sophia told him,
“but it was a half-assed job. And the detective team just thinks it’s because
the killer was frightened away.”

“Frightened away where?” Dante asked. “From the photos
you’ve sent back and the info I pulled up from Google, there’s no place for
someone to run to without leaving traces in all that snow. And unless there are
a lot of trees close to the house, anyone running away would be seen. If indeed
Bobby’s theory is correct and whoever did the killing was interrupted by the
husband’s arrival.”

“You aren’t saying anything we haven’t already said
ourselves,” Sophia sighed.

“Another thing.” This from Logan. “There were no lingering
traces of the odor of turpentine. The medical examiner said she’d only been
dead about three hours when we got there. It may be bitter cold up here but
there still should have been a trace of the scent.”

“I know you would have said something if you’d heard, but
any news about Melinda?”

Dante just shook his head. “I don’t say this when Chloe can
hear me but at this rate I think we’ll be lucky if we ever find her body.”

“We need to find this devil beast,” Logan said savagely.
“Track it to its lair.”

“I can’t give you any sage advice you haven’t already given
yourselves,” Dante told them. “Just keep in touch.”

“Will do.” Logan killed the webcam and looked at Sophia.
“We’d better go meet Rebecca and get out on the snowmobiles again. I have a
feeling we’re about out of time.”

Chapter Ten

As soon as they hit The Crown after a long, hard day Clint
motioned to a helper he had behind the bar that night and came to sit in the
booth with them, bringing drinks with him.

“None of you look like you’ve been having much fun today,”
he said, sliding in next to Sophia.

Logan took a swallow of his beer. “That’s an understatement.
Besides freezing our asses off I don’t think we accomplished a damn thing.”

“We did mark off a few more places as likely targets for the
beast,” Sophia told him. “But there’s just so many of them.”

Clint nodded. “I can see that. When Logan and I did our
recon last night we thought the same thing.” He frowned. “But I have to say,
the Warren place isn’t one either of us marked last night as a possibility. Too
open. Too far from the cover of trees. That’s what you look for, right?”

Sophia nodded. “With all the others, even if the houses are
isolated, there were always lots of trees right around the dwelling so the
beast had cover.”

“The problem,” Logan said, rolling the beer bottle between
his palms, “is we’re convinced the beast can shift and assume other forms, so
it may actually be in a form that doesn’t immediately cause alarm. It’s how it
gets close to its victims.”

“But it still needs cover to approach the prey in Chupacabra
form and to complete the kill without interruption. Every single other site has
had that kind of cover.”

“Has there been much gossip in here today about Elaine
Warren’s murder?” Rebecca wanted to know.

Clint nodded. “
Certainment.
And since the Maine State
Police issued a formal statement it’s seems to be all anyone wants to talk
about.”

“Maybe at least people will start to be a little more
cautious. More careful.”

“God, I hope so.” Sophia took a big swallow of her drink,
the hot liquor coursing through her chilled veins.

“Anyone know of any trouble in the Warren marriage?” Logan
asked. “Anything that could throw suspicion on the husband? Or maybe someone
Elaine Warren had an argument with? Some other kind of trouble?”

Clint shrugged. “Every marriage has its trouble spots, but
nothing that anyone seemed to think was a major problem.”

“There has to be something,” Rebecca insisted.

“Why?” He looked at each of them. “What aren’t you saying?”

They were all speaking in low tones, pitching their voices
just loud enough to be heard over the rising crescendo of sound that marked
Friday night at The Crown.

Sophia took a sip from her glass, set it down carefully. “We
don’t believe this is a Chupacabra kill. The cut opening the body is too clean,
like it was made with a sharp instrument. The puncture wounds differ. And, most
of all, not all the blood was drained.”

Clint’s body tensed. “So you really think this is a human
kill?”

Rebecca nodded. “And we always look at the immediate family
and friends first.”

“The problem,” Sophia said, “is that Bobby doesn’t think the
two kill scenes are different enough to matter and he’s back on his homicidal
maniac theory again. He’s a very good detective but I don’t think he’ll look at
these kills as being separate.”

“I’m going to try talking to him again tomorrow,” Rebecca
said. “No offense, guys, but he might listen to me a little more than
outsiders.”

“But that still means we’re waiting for the second kill from
the devil beast,” Logan added. “One good thing. With two killings in the area
people are starting to get nervous. At least maybe they’ll be a lot more
alert.”

Clint looked at him. “When we go out again tonight we’ll try
to narrow the likely spots a little more, and be extra alert for any indication
the beast is back on the prowl. Meanwhile let me put in a dinner order for
you.” He winked at Sophia. “You want the barbecue beef sandwich with home fries
tonight.”

* * * * *

Bradley Howard finished his shift as an X-ray technician at
the hospital, clocked out and pulled on his heavy parka and boots. He hoped
there hadn’t been any more snow. He was damn sick and tired of shoveling his
driveway every five minutes. Next paycheck he was getting the snow blower
fixed.

Presque Isle was dark and deserted as he drove through the
streets to his little place just outside town. After dealing with people all
day he enjoyed the isolation of the place. It also provided the best spot to
conduct his extracurricular activities.

Outside influences were beginning to cut into his time and
it pissed him off. What he really wanted was to quit his dead-end job, take his
extracurricular activities and blow this place.

He pulled up to the garage door and shoved the gearshift
into park. He kept meaning to install an automatic opener but it was one of
those things that just kept getting pushed lower on the to-do list. Bending
down to reach the door handle, he never saw the figure move out from the trees
at the side of the garage until it was on him. His scream was choked off as
something heavy bashed against the side of his head and he crumpled into the
packed snow.

* * * * *

Sophia was startled when she heard the knock on her door at
barely after ten.