The Crying Season (Detectives Kane and Alton)

Women never stood a chance against him. He longed to see her terror but submission was never an option; he needed her to fight back and make him work for the kill. She could scream, but this far into the forest, not a soul would hear her cries. Then she would realize he had claimed her. She was going to die very slowly. Some fought to the end and made good sport but they all died looking at him.

As the couple emerged from their camp, hitting the trail with a small backpack, he glanced at the countdown screen. They would arrive at his position just in time. He adjusted his body cam and excitement tingled through him. Let the games begin.

31

As if his brain was attempting to block out the horror playing out before him, all the little things filtered into Colter Barry’s mind. It had been the best morning of his life. The early-morning sun had glistened on raindrops, dressing the bushes alongside the track with diamonds. The earthy smell of the forest laced with pine and wildflowers had combined with Lilly’s unique scent, spicy and so darn familiar. As she strolled beside him, her dark hair had fluttered in the wind to brush his cheek in a caress. They had walked hand in hand, and he had pointed out the brown eyes of a magnificent buck some moments before it had bounded away, its powerful muscles bunched under a tight glossy coat.

Colter swallowed the sob in his throat, too scared to make a sound. The stranger would find him soon. He could hear him, cursing in his robotic voice and methodically moving along each of the animal tracks leading from the main trail. The image of Lilly, cheeks wet with tears, eyes pleading with him for help as the animal killed her, slammed into his mind and he swallowed a sob of grief. At first, he could not believe what was happening. The man had emerged from the bushes and in a voice straight from hell told him he would have the pleasure of watching Lilly die.

Agony ricocheted through his head from the first punch, and he fought like a man possessed to protect Lilly, but he was no match for the skill of their tormentor. Knifed in the spine and tied to a tree, helpless, he protested as much as the gag would allow, but the more he complained, the crueler the stranger became. His eerie voice lingered in his brain. The animal described each tortuous move as if waiting for permission to continue. It was as if Lilly’s screams urged him on, but when they ceased and she fell into unconsciousness, he would pause and look at her.

“Stay awake, Lilly, I don’t want you to miss anything,” his voice had taunted just before he slapped her awake. “Your boyfriend is annoying me; maybe I’ll burn him alive. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

The beast had laughed at him then tipped a can of gas over his head. The fuel burned his eyes and fumes engulfed him, but the expected flick of a lighter followed by searing hot flames did not come. So sure he could not escape, the maniac returned to Lilly, and long after the life had left her eyes, the killer continued to use his knife, engrossed in his macabre dissection and oblivious to his presence.

Colter shook in terror, then in a spasm of pain the feeling in his legs returned and he wiggled his toes. Desperate to get away, he picked at the rope holding him to the tree and gasped with relief when the knot broke free.

He could do nothing for Lilly now, and his only chance for survival was to reach the hunters’ check station, an hour’s walk from his current position. Dizzy and trembling, he crawled into the bushes on numb legs and slid between trees and clumps of undergrowth. Horrified, he noticed the wound in his back had dripped blood, leaving a trail straight to him. The basic survival training a teacher had rammed down his throat at a school camp years ago slipped into his mind. Find shelter, tend the wound, and get help. That would be useless if the killer found him in minutes.

Clamping shut his jaw to prevent escaping moans of pain, he dragged a fallen branch over the blood spots, making sure the leaves and pinecones would conceal his tracks. He backed up, dragging the branch in his wake, and headed to the shade of a massive boulder surrounded by bushes. He crawled under the clump of thimbleberry guarding the entrance and rolled beneath the huge rock, disturbing a porcupine. The animal flashed its teeth then climbed over him, tearing his flesh with its sharp claws, and bounded into the undergrowth. I need help.

Colter slid the cellphone from his back pocket and stared at the screen in disbelief. He flipped it over and forced his trembling fingers to remove the battery cover then cursed under his breath. Someone had removed the SIM. No help was coming.

It was like living a nightmare; he had zero chance against a man loaded for a bear and intent on burning him alive, but he owed it to Lilly to bring her killer to justice. He listened and peered through the bright-green leaves of t

he thimbleberry but only heard the chatter of red squirrels. Safe for now, he made no sound, eased out of his backpack, took out one of the four bottles of water and flushed his eyes. He stripped off his jacket and shirt and found the medical kit; using his fingers to locate the injury on his back, he managed to push a thick dressing over the stab wound.

His long, showerproof jacket had protected his pants from the gas, but his T-shirt was soaked down the front and the smell would bring the killer to him. He found the woolen hoodie and thermals Lilly had packed for him and pulled them on. The sight of her blood-soaked body and staring, sightless eyes slammed into him and his teeth chattered. Lilly. Oh God, Lilly.

The smell of gas wafted around him, and in a panic, he balled up the gas-soaked clothes, pushed them into a deep crevice, and covered them with forest debris. Exhausted and trembling, he drank the rest of the water, eased into his backpack, and listened. His heart went into overdrive at the unmistakable sound of a man crashing toward him through the forest. Frozen with fear, he pressed against the boulder, pulling his black hoodie around his face, and watched the saplings move and birds fly into the air as the killer rampaged toward him.

Colter cringed as the man dressed in army camouflage gear and wearing a skull mask appeared not ten yards from his hiding place. He had slowed and sniffed the air, moving his head slowly from side to side, but Colter was upwind of him and the smell of gas was long gone. The killer took a few steps in his direction. So close now, Colter could smell the sweat on him, see the rifle over one shoulder and the hunting knife in one hand. When the killer bent down and searched the ground on the other side of the bush, Colter’s heart beat so fast, he could feel it pounding against his ribs. His breath made a wheezing sound and he pressed his fist hard against his mouth and tried desperately to control his breathing.

Twigs cracked under the killer’s blood-soaked hiking boots. The camouflage pattern did little to cover the blood spatter on his legs. Bile rose in Colter’s throat, filling his mouth as a scarlet stream dripped from the knife. Lilly’s blood.

The leaves of the thimbleberry shook and he could hear the killer’s heavy breathing. Terrified, Colter waited for the face of death to part the bushes and find him. Tears pricked his eyes; he had failed to defend the woman he loved and now he would never be able to avenge her.

When the boots crunched away, moving out of his line of vision, he sucked in a shuddering breath and listened. The only sound was the wind blowing through the trees, no birds, nothing else at all. He needed to get away but the killer could be waiting for him out of his line of vision. Unsure what to do, he sat staring at the forest for some time. When the birds returned to the trees, he crawled out of his hiding place and scanned the forest for any sign of movement. Confident he was alone, he grasped a tree and stood slowly. Tingling had replaced the partial numbness in his legs. He glanced around to get his bearings. Downhill in the distance he could make out a firebreak cutting across the forest. He took a few hesitant steps; apart from the pain in his back, his legs worked fine.

Muscles bunched and arms pumping, he ran flat out, weaving in and out of the trees. The branches lashed at his face and his heart was about to burst in his chest when he heard a shot way in the distance. He darted to one side. Too late. Pain slammed through his head and he faltered. As if in slow motion, a part of one ear overtook him on a crimson tide. Blood, hot and sticky, poured down his neck but he kept running.

Ahead, two men emerged from the forest carrying rifles. Both stopped and stared at him then came running toward him. The men’s faces blurred, and in fear for his life, he turned to run away. Footsteps thundered toward him and he staggered then tumbled face first into darkness.

32

Kane tossed wet clothes into the dryer and headed to the kitchen to pour himself a well-earned cup of coffee. Glad of a few hours’ respite from the murder investigation, he’d been up since dawn, fixing up the stables and doing his chores. After so long in the military, he found himself cleaning at midnight to keep his cottage up to his high standard. It also gave him some quiet time to mull over the investigation. Weary from the continuous long hours, he wondered if the increased crime rate had become the new normal for Black Rock Falls. Although, he could not really complain—yeah, they had investigated four murders this year, but in Washington they often had reports of four of five violent crimes daily.

Duke nudged his leg, reminding him to refill his bowl. He patted the bloodhound on the head and scooped biscuits into his bowl. “I’ll buy you meat soon but right now you eat what the vet recommends.”

He straightened at the sound of Jenna’s SUV heading for his cottage. It was Sunday but she had dropped into the office to check on a few things. One thing for sure, Jenna put her job first and her personal life at the bottom of the list. He took two cups from the shelf and poured the coffee then added cream and sugar to both. His door opened and Jenna peeked inside. He held up a cup. “Coffee?”

“Lunch?” Jenna waved an Aunt Betty’s Café takeout sack in the air. “Wow, your house is sparkling.” She moved to his side and sniffed then made a humming sound.

“When do you get time to do all of this?” She tossed her jacket onto a chair then sat at the kitchen table and took the coffee with a long sigh.

He sat down opposite and took in her casual appearance. She looked good in a T-shirt and jeans with her hair mussed up from the wind. “Have you eaten?”

“Nope.” She sipped her coffee and sighed. “It was a waste of time going into the office. There is nothing new to report. Rowley is handling the 911 line. We’ve had no positive sightings of Canavar, and although we know he had supplies with him, he could have stayed at the Black Rock Falls Motel. With no evidence to prove Canavar was at the murder scene, I can’t obtain a search warrant. No one has reported an Asian man missing either.” She shrugged. “Whoever he was, he didn’t stay in Black Rock Falls or Blackwater and he must have had wings because I have no idea how he arrived here in the first place.”