LustUndone (25 page)

He came to the bed and bent down to brush a kiss over her
lips. “Always,
chere.
Look what I have to come back to.”

“Are you…” She wet her lips. “Are you going to come
by…afterward?”

“If you want me to.”

“Take my key card.” She pointed. “It’s on the dresser.”

“Okay. And you keep your gun beside you. Just in case.”

She stared at him. “Surely you don’t think the beast will
show up here. It sticks to isolated locations.”

“There’s more than one kind of beast out there. I just want
you safe.” He kissed her again. “Later.” He grinned. “Keep the bed warm for me,
okay?”

Then he was gone. Sophia climbed out of the bed long enough
to get her Glock from the dresser and put it on the nightstand. Then she
huddled under the covers again, pulling them close to her so she could inhale
Clint’s lingering scent.

* * * * *

Why do I feel that I’ve covered the entire state of
Maine?

Logan’s wolf lips were pulled back in a replica of a grin.

They had stopped in a small clearing among a towering stand
of blue spruce to regroup and reorient. They had been running for close to six
hours, working their way out and then back toward the motel. Logan had shown
Clint the snow cave, which showed no signs of being used in the past
twenty-four hours, and they scoped out some likely spots for the beast to hide
and attack.

They had not seen any sign of the devil beast or any
indication it was out hunting tonight. Silently they shared an uneasy feeling,
as if they were missing something.

Wimp!
Clint gave a silent laugh.
You should ask
the CID to warn these particular folks again, and be sure the sheriff’s patrols
pay careful attention to these areas.

I just have the feeling we’re missing something.

Clint stared at him through his wolf eyes.
I think we’ve
done all we can for tonight. Let’s get back to the motel.

All right. We can talk about this in the morning. See if
we can narrow the area even more.

They rose to all fours, scoped out the area around them once
more and took off. They used trees to conceal themselves as much as possible
until they finally reached the place where they’d stashed their clothes.

“I have a bad feeling I can’t get rid of,” Logan said,
zipping up his parka.

“I hate to say it, but I share the feeling,” Clint agreed.

“Are you going home?” Logan asked carefully.

Clint shrugged. “Not much use, as close to morning as it
is.”

“Clint?”

“Yeah?” He turned to face the other man, his stance slightly
belligerent.

“I just wanted to say that I’m glad you and Sophia have
something going. She’s…” he searched for words, “a tightly contained person.
Her entire focus is the job. It’s good to see her let down a little.”

Clint studied him for a moment. “You should know I have
strong feelings for her.”

“And
you
should know that I think you’re very good
for her. I hope the two of you can work things out between you.”

“Thanks.” He held out his hand and Logan shook it.

“All right. Let’s go before someone sees us and wonders what
two men are doing wandering around out here at this hour.”

* * * * *

Chuck Whittaker thought long and hard before making the
offer to the stranger he’d picked up. The man had spent what little light
remained working on one of the cabins before coming in to wash up and share a
simple meal. The man—Fred—was certainly weird looking and Chuck was irritated
by that strange odor of turpentine that clung to him. Still, he was quiet and
didn’t seem like a troublemaker. And he’d cut and stacked the wood that Chuck
hadn’t gotten to and was working his way through a list of minor repairs.

And there was still a lot of work to do. Chuck and his wife
had kicked around the idea of hiring someone laid off work for the winter
months but Fred had popped up and he took it as an omen.

They ate supper without much conversation then Fred prepared
to bed down in one of the cabins. But the outbuildings weren’t heated and all
the space heaters used during hunting season had been serviced and were packed
away until spring. He could almost hear Loraine’s voice telling him he was
talking a foolish chance but he liked to think he was a fair judge of people,
so he made the man an offer.

“You’ll probably freeze to death in one of those cabins,” he
said. “We’ve got a room off the kitchen over there that the wife uses for
sewing and stuff. It’s got a couch in it she says isn’t too bad, if you’d like
to bed down there.”

“Are you sure?” Fred asked in his weird voice.

“Absolutely.” Chuck pulled out a grin. “Can’t have you freeze
to death before the work gets finished, right?”

“Thanks. Appreciate it.”

Chuck found a pillow and blankets for the man and showed him
the downstairs washroom.

“Hope you don’t mind but I’ll be getting you up pretty early
in the morning so we can get at it.”

Fred just nodded and headed into the room.

Chuck climbed the stairs to his bedroom and dug out his
flannel pajamas. Once in bed, the covers pulled up, he turned on the television
he and Loraine kept in there and flipped through the channels to see if there
was anything he wanted to watch. But today had been a long one for him so he
turned it off along with the lamp and burrowed beneath the covers. Sleep came
easily to him.

When the noise woke him he blinked his eyes, startled out of
sleep. Looked at the clock on the nightstand and saw it was four in the
morning. What had awakened him? Then he heard it again, a loud thump from
downstairs, as if something large had bumped into the wall.

Jesus! Had Fred gotten up in the middle of the night? What
could he possibly be doing down there?

Chuck climbed out of bed, stuck his feet into his slippers
and reached for the robe he kept at the foot of the bed. He was just fastening
the tie at the waist when his bedroom door flew open, slamming against the wall
with a loud
crack!
Chuck’s eyes widened and his heart almost stopped
beating at the apparition standing in his bedroom doorway.

He stumbled backward then tried to get to his closet to get
his shotgun. He only made it two steps before the creature was upon him. A searing
pain as he was ripped open from neck to groin was the last thing he ever felt.

* * * * *

Once again Logan, Clint and Sophia were having coffee in her
room but this morning they were joined by Ric Garza. Sophia had swallowed a
smile when she introduced Ric and Clint and they circled each other momentarily
like two junkyard dogs. But as soon as Ric realized Clint was on board with
what they were doing and was helping, and Clint realized Ric wasn’t poaching on
what he considered his territory, they settled down to hash out details.

Logan made an early trip to the drive-through fast-food
place for breakfast sandwiches and they ate them while going over what he and
Clint had learned—or not—on their run the night before. Sophia was making notes
on a small pad of paper when her cell phone rang. She recognized the readout as
Bobby’s cell.

“What’s up?”

“You’d better get your partner and come on out to where I
am.” His voice sounded tired and strained as he rattled off an address.

“What’s going on, Bobby?”

“We’ve got another body.”

Sweet Jesus
, was all she could think. “Who is it?”

“Man named Chuck Whittaker. Owns a hunting and fishing camp.
His wife’s in Boston with the daughter and her new baby. Tried to call him at
seven this morning on the landline and his cell. No answer either place. Says
if he’s not home he’s always got that cell with him.” Bobby sighed heavily.
“She called the sheriff who sent someone out on a welfare call. Deputies found
the body and the sheriff called me.”

“I’m guessing since you called me that it’s like the
others?”

“Yes.” He sounded tired and stressed. “I think we really
need your input on this, Soph. Much as I hate to admit it, there’s some aspects
to these kills that indicate something not quite human. And not like any of the
animals we’re used to around here.”

“We’re on our way.” She clicked off and repeated everything
to the men.

“I’ll get going, then.” Clint drained his coffee cup and
rose from the chair.

“I’m going to take the helo up,” Ric told them. “Scope out
the area in daylight. You don’t need to be dragging yet another person along to
this.”

“I’ll call you when we know more about what’s happening,”
Sophia told him as they exited the room.

She and Logan were quiet with their own thoughts until they
finally reached the Whittaker place. Just as at the Warrens, the driveway was
lined with Maine State Police vehicles. This time, however, the activity seemed
to be inside. Two troopers stood guard on the front porch but the door was
open.

When they showed their identification one of the troopers
jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“Upstairs. Detective Lacroix’s waiting for you.” The man
looked a little pale.

“Have you been up there?” Sophia asked.

He swallowed. “Yes ma’am. It’s, uh, pretty bad.”

They followed the sounds of activity to an upstairs bedroom.
Scott Mooney was standing in the doorway, his face drawn.

“This is the worst one,” he told them. “It’s…like something
out of a nightmare.”

He stepped aside to let them enter. Bobby turned when he
heard them.

“Whatever or whoever this is, things are getting worse.
Escalating.” He moved to the side so they could get closer to the body.

Even Sophia paled when she saw it. The beast must have been
enraged or at the height of its lust, because instead of one slice from neck to
groin the body was actually ripped open, the organs torn out and ravaged. And
the two puncture wounds looked as if they’d been made by repeated stabbings.

And like Darrell Franklin every bit of the blood had been
drained.

“Even removing Elaine Warren and Bradley Howard from the
equation,” Bobby went on, “we’re still dealing with someone not quite right in
the head. I’ve contacted the border patrol but if someone’s already here
there’s not much they can do until we catch him.”

Logan walked carefully around the body. “It’s angry,” he
observed. “I’d have to say its lust is boiling over. Maybe because there’s been
almost a week since its last kill.”

“Okay,” Bobby said, barely hiding his irritation, “if this
is some creature I’m not familiar with, as you keep saying, how did it get into
the house? Tell me that. Chuck Whittaker wouldn’t just open his door and let a
feral animal in.”

Sophia and Rebecca looked at each other.

Sophia cleared her throat. “We believe—have some
evidence—that this…beast…can assume different shapes.”

Bobby stared at them as if they’d gone crazy. “You’ve got to
be shitting me. Tell me you don’t believe something as wacko as that.”

Sophia held out her hands helplessly. “Night Seekers has
reams of research on this, Bobby. Evidence to back it up. Even some eyewitness
reports.”

He shook his head in disgust. “You think what you want. I’m
going after a killer I can rationally accept. Anyway, I’m still thinking
someone who snuck over the border. Maybe he’s done this somewhere before. If we
have a true serial killer here I’ll probably have to call in the FBI.”

“No.” Sophia didn’t realize she’d shouted the word until
Rebecca put a hand on her arm. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Please. I see where you’re coming from, but will you just give us forty-eight
hours?”

“For what? I can’t just sit on this.”

“Of course not. Do your investigating. All the things you
usually do. But my gut tells me there’ll be another attempt within this time
frame. We’ve brought up extra help from the team.”

“What can you lose?” Rebecca asked. “It’s not as if you’ll
just be sitting on your hands. Let Sophia and the other Night Seekers do their
thing.”

“All right.” He threw up his hands. “Do whatever you have to
do. I’m not even sure what that is anymore. But if another body turns up it’s
on your heads.”

* * * * *

They were eating lunch at The Crown. Frenchy was behind the
bar, holding court so Clint was able to join them and Rebecca had ridden back
from the crime scene with them. They’d taken the big round table in the far
corner so they had room to spread things out. They were past the lunch rush so
there really wasn’t anyone seated close enough to see or hear what they were
doing.

“We’re running out of time,” Ric said in a low voice. He
reached into the thin leather folder he was carrying and pulled out a map,
which he opened on the table. “After you gave me the location of this morning’s
body, I marked it here.” He pointed to an X he’d made. “I brought with me the
maps showing the kills in Maverick and Zapata Counties as well as the one from
Alabama where you were last.” He looked at Logan when he said this. “I wanted
you all to see the pattern. I think it will help narrow our target area a great
deal.”

He opened the other maps, each of which had a red circle
drawn around three marked locations. Then he put the Aroostook County map
beside them, folding it to show where he’d drawn the newest circle.

“That definitely cuts out a lot of territory,” Clint
remarked, looking at all the maps carefully.

“Plus the snow cave we found is within the circle,” Logan
added. “The beast’s base of operations.”

Ric nodded. “Apparently it marks out its territory, finds a
place to dig in and hunts from there. So let’s see what we’ve got.”

They compared each of the maps to the latest one, Logan and
Clint both making notes on paper napkins.

“Darrell Franklin was here,” Rebecca pointed, “and Chuck
Whittaker here.” She stabbed her finger at a point on the map. “So following
the pattern, its next attack would occur…somewhere in this area. I know that
landscape. There are hardly any homes there and it’s filled with black spruce.”