LustUndone (8 page)

“Logan will do it.”

He was surprised, sure that Sophia would want to do this
herself after the tense conversation. On the other hand, he was a stranger,
coming here without history as far as they were concerned. Neutral, so to
speak. He pushed himself up from his chair, walked over to the board on the
wall and picked up a marker.

“Okay, let’s start with the patterns as we know them,” he
began.

* * * * *

The beast poked its nosed out of the warmth of the snow cave
and looked around, blinking at the bright sunlight reflected off the pristine
blanket on the ground. Its belly was still full, its lust still sated from the
fresh kill three days ago. But the warning signs were there. The signals in its
brain were telling it that the time was approaching for the next prey to be
selected.

The beast loved the openness of the landscape and the
isolation of the inhabitants. It made hunting so much easier. Today it would
find a small inhabitant of the wooded area to take the edge off its appetite.
They were so easy to kill there was almost no pleasure in it. But for the devil
beast it was as much about amusement as it was about eating, and drinking the
blood so essential to existence.

It lifted its misshapen snout into the wind, sniffing. A
scent drifted on the air.

Human!

Here? Now?

No. Far away. And more than one. Not a target for hunting.

A sharp pain stabbed through the creature’s head at the
blend of smells and it slunk back into the cave, curling in on itself on the
ground. Later, when the breath-stealing pain was gone, it would scout the area
for its next victim.

Later.

Nearly blinded by the pain, it closed its eyes and reached
for the relief of sleep.

* * * * *

They split up outside the barracks. Bobby sent the other
four members of the team off in pairs to begin questioning people within a
ten-mile radius of the crime scene.

“They’ll bring you back reports,” he said as Sophia opened
her mouth to object. “But you know how much snow we got and how hard it’s going
to be to get around. Annie and Ray are taking the big pickup and hauling
snowmobiles with them to get to some of the folks who aren’t plowed yet.” He
took off his hat, rubbed his head, put it back on again. “This snow has fucked
everything up.”

“You know I’m going to want to do some scouting myself,” she
told him.

Bobby made a sound of frustration. “Sophia, that’s a lot of
miles to cover. That could take days.”

“I need to see for myself where the creature could dig in
and hide. Where it could hunt for its next victim.” She planted her hands on
her hips. “Bobby, don’t get in my way on this. Please. You’ll be damn upset if
someone gets killed because you do. This creature kills in a pattern of three.
You want to wait for the next two bodies?”

“Fine, fine.” He shook his head, exasperated. “Whatever you
want, okay? But you said the first thing you wanted was to see the crime scene
so that’s where we’re going.”

“Fine,” she snapped back. “Good. Then let’s get going.”

Sophia was happy to note that the plows had obviously been
busy after the snowfall of the previous night. The streets of Houlton were
pretty clear as was Route 1. She hoped the same could be said of the driveway
at Darrell Franklin’s fish camp which, according to the map, was off Highway
227 west of Presque Isle.

She needn’t have worried. Someone—Bobby or Rebecca—had
apparently been on top of it. Three state police vehicles formed a line in the
freshly cleared narrow path that left just enough room for someone to walk by
them. Bobby Lacroix was waiting for them in front of the lead car, the others
in the team gathered around him. Everyone’s face was carefully blank.

The fish camp sat in an ocean of snow punctuated by the
stark skeletons of trees. Next to the house itself was a huge barn and beyond
that a row of cabins stretched down to Alder Pond. The pond was frozen over now
and the cabins closed until spring.

“This place is really at the ass end of nowhere,” Logan
commented as he looked around.

“Like I said yesterday,” Sophia said as she and Rebecca
exited the SUV right behind him, “I’m guessing it’s not much different from a
lot of Montana.”

He gave a mirthless chuckle. “Yeah, you got that right.”

Rebecca led the way to where the others waited. “Thanks to
whoever remembered to shovel a path to the doorway,” she told him.

“Paul Maquire, the campground owner who found him, took care
of all this for us,” Bobby told her. “In fact, he should be along any minute. I
figured your sister and her friend would want to talk to him.”

Sophia stepped up next to her sister. “Thank you, Bobby. We
appreciate anything you can do to facilitate this.”

“Yeah, well, that still doesn’t mean I’m buying into your
theory. But what you put up on the board back at the barracks at least makes me
want to take a look at all the possibilities.”

She opened the folder she’d brought with her and pulled out
eight-by-ten pictures of the crime scene. “I know it was impossible to preserve
any of the scene with the snow and all,” she said, “but can one of you just
walk us around it?”

“Scott and I will,” Rebecca said and led the way toward the
house.

The porch ran full length across the front of the building.
Two benches flanked the front door and a large wooden chair filled a corner.
Sophia stood on the top step, Logan next to her, and watched as her sister
paced out the crime scene diagram.

“He was found here,” Bec said as she drew an outline with
her feet in front of one of the benches. “He only had his long johns on and a
pair of jeans.”

“Not what you’d step outside in when the temp hovers near
zero,” Logan commented.

“Right. He was still holding his shotgun. Actually, as cold
as it was, by the time Paul Maquire found him it was frozen in his hand.” She
took the pictures from Sophia and shuffled through them. “He was stretched out
like this,” she pointed to the top photo, “as if he’d just stepped out of the
front door and was dead in seconds.”

“If it was the Chupacabra,” Logan said, “that’s most likely
the way it happened.”

“His body was drained of blood,” Bobby said from behind
them. “But if he was killed while it was still snowing we figured the snow had
washed away whatever blood there was.”

“There wasn’t any blood when my nephews were killed,” Sophia
reminded him. “Or at the other bodies back at that time.”

“Or at the ones Night Seekers have looked into since then,”
Logan added.

“Okay, okay, okay.” Bobby shook his head. “I’m just saying
there are a lot of explanations for this.”

Sophia got right in his face, her temper on a short leash.
“Yes. You’re right. Remember that. Yours isn’t the only one.”

“Kids,” Rebecca said, stepping up to them. “We’ve got
business to take care of, remember?”

Sophia stepped off the porch and took a long look around the
area. Not much different from all the other kill scenes they had pictures of—or
had seen personally. Isolated. Distant. A person living alone. Except in the
case of her nephews who’d been caught sneaking off on a forbidden trail. This
time, however, acres of snow covered the landscape, permanently eradicating
even the tiniest possibility of a trace. And the cold effectively killing the
remnants of any odor, such as turpentine. Well, hell.

“It would be really impossible for a human being to sneak up
on this place,” she commented. “It’s so exposed, even with the trees. And when
did this most recent snowfall start?”

“Four days before the body was found,” Bobby answered.
“That’s one of the reasons the campground owner was concerned. He wanted to
make sure Darrell was weathered in properly.”

“Then tell me, Bobby.” Sophia looked up at him, unsmiling.
“How would a human being get in here to attack the man? And why would he? Or
she? If the killer is human and looking for prey, there are a lot easier places
to hunt than out here in the middle of nowhere. Places where someone could get
in and out without detection.”

Bobby glared back at her. “He could have come in before the
storm really got up a head of steam. Driven up the driveway while it was still
clear. Taken care of business and gotten away before the weather settled in.”

“And that doesn’t seem like a lot of trouble to go to for
one kill?”

“Less chance of being disturbed,” he said stubbornly.

“You don’t think Darrell Franklin would have been suspicious
of someone showing up out of the blue?” Sophia asked. “I get the impression he
wasn’t a person to let his guard down easily.” She rubbed her forehead. “Or it
could be a creature that hunts for isolated prey so there’s no chance of
detection,” she insisted. “One that doesn’t fit anything you’re familiar with.”

“You’re giving whatever you think that creature is a lot of
brain credit.” He was obviously trying to hang on to his theory.

“Maybe it has more than we think.” Night Seekers was
beginning to think more and more that the devil beast had reasoning powers far
beyond those of normal creatures. “Bobby, you can’t rule out anything at this
point. Think back to when my nephews were killed.” She swallowed back the
sudden surge of nausea. “And the two others around the same time. You never
found any trace of a human being. Not one. Those killings were never solved.
And now we have another one just like those.”

“So you’re saying that this—whatever it is—is back again?
That maybe it’s even been around here all this time?”

“I’m saying that you can’t just toss the possibility aside
because it doesn’t compute in your brain. Logan and I are here because Night
Seekers has been dealing with a lot of killings just like this. Why not at
least accept the possibility our theory night be right?”

Before Bobby could say anything else they heard the whining
sound of a snowmobile and everyone turned. A man wrapped in a fur-lined parka,
waterproof winter pants and heavy boots climbed off a massive Sno-Cat
snowmobile and trudged up to where they stood. He pulled up the ski mask he
wore beneath his hood and held out a hand to Bobby.

“Detective Lacroix,” he acknowledged.

Bobby nodded at him. “Thanks for coming.” He introduced
everyone around, then turned back to the much older man. “If you could walk us
through it again I’d really appreciate it. I hope this will be the last time.”

“Me, too.” The man shook his head. “Not a sight that’s
easily wiped from your mind.” He climbed up onto the porch. “Okay. Darrell and
I see each other almost daily when the weather’s nice but he closes up in the
winter. He’s pretty isolated out here so I have him call me every day, let me
know if he needs anything. Sometimes I come over on the Cat and we play cards.
Have a couple of drinks. You know.”

He paused and took a long breath.

“I hadn’t heard from him in three days. When he didn’t
answer the phone I got worried and came on over. The snow had stopped by then
but it was pretty deep and I had a little trouble getting in even with the Cat.
But holy hell. There he was, on the porch. Guts ripped out, big puncture wounds
in the neck. Shotgun frozen in his hand. And I’ll tell you, a look of fright on
his face like I’ve never seen before. And Darrell wasn’t afraid of anyone or
anything.”

“I know I asked you this before,” Bobby said, “but do you
think a bear could have done this? Could he have heard the animal outside and
come to shoot it?”

Maquire snorted. “And I’ll tell you again. A bear would have
ripped him to shreds, not left him like this. Besides, don’t you wonder what
happened to all his blood?”

“My point exactly,” Sophia put in. “Besides, what on earth
would persuade any human being to drive to a closed fish camp in the middle of
a raging blizzard?” She shook her head. “No, this isn’t the work of anything
human.” She looked at Bobby. “No matter what you say.”

“So then, some animal besides a bear. There’s a lot of other
options.”

Logan touched her elbow. “Let’s get Mr. Maquire to walk us
around the place and point out any other opportunities for someone to get here.
Skis, whatever, and make a chart.”

“Yes, okay, but you know it isn’t—”

“We can go over this ourselves later. With Rebecca, if you
want. Meanwhile, let’s just get the lay of the land so we have a starting
point.”

“You’re right.” She sighed and turned to Paul Maquire. “If
you can walk us around here and answer some questions we’d appreciate it. I
know you’ve done this with Detective Lacroix and his team but if I can persuade
you to go through it one more time?”

“Sure. Whatever will help find Darrell’s killer.”

Sophia was glad she and Logan had heavy winter boots on as
they walked the scene with Maguire. They went over everything again with him,
Bobby and Rebecca prompting now and then, until they figured they’d wrung all
the information from him he had to give them. They nodded politely as he
pointed out where a snowmobile could have gotten through and where someone
would have needed either cross-country skis or snowshoes.

“I just think if it was a machine Darrell would have heard
it coming,” Maquire said. “Maybe that’s why he had the gun in his hands. But if
someone wanted to kill him, why show up on something that noisy?”

“Good point,” Logan nodded.

Sophia exchanged glances with him. They’d been trying to
tell Bobby the same thing.

“And if they came on skis or snowshoes that shows they’d
really planned this out. And I can’t think of a damn person who wanted to kill
Darrell who’d be that premeditated.”

“Well, if anything does come to you, please let us know.”
Sophia pulled off a glove and dug a business card out of her pocket. “My cell
number’s on here. Call me anytime.”

“Thanks for your help,” Logan told him, shaking the man’s
hand.