Heron Park

by C. K. Raggio

  He cleared his throat. She thought he was involved with the specialist? “No. I’ve known her a long time. Just so you don’t get the wrong impression of the specialist. She happens to be my mother.”

  “O-oh… I wasn’t – ah…” She tilted her head to the side. Blonde tendrils of hair blocked his view of her face. God, how he wanted her. Was now the right time? They could get the call any moment from the sheriff. He took a deep breath. Fuck it. It would never be the right time, not with the crap they were dealing with.

  CHAPTER 32

  The sun began its descent. Timmy hunkered down low behind the thick brush. It was always hard this time of year to find a suitable hiding spot. At least he wouldn’t have to fight to get onto the trail. He only had to take two steps to his right and rush forward to be exactly where he needed.

  The sky turned different shades of orange and purple. It’d been a while since he’d hunted at dusk. Adrenaline surged through his system. They should be coming down the trail any minute now.

  Heron Park had become too infested with cops who knew all his escape routes. It was time to move on. To switch it up one last time before heading south. The park he’d chosen was larger than Heron Park, busier. But there were a few places that people didn’t usually venture. Timmy, of course, knew about every one.

  The sounds of jogging and female exhalations reached his ears. Twenty minutes of daylight left. This should be them. His phone vibrated in his breast pocket. There was only one person who knew the number. Timmy would call him later.

  He counted the women as they went passed. One. Two. Three. Shit, where was she? Then he saw her, walking, a hand pressed to her side.

  “Sorry, guys I have a cramp,” she said.

  “Okay, we’ll wait for you.” The voice grew louder as the other three women circled back.

  Now.

  He whistled. The sound piercing the air with one steady note. Athena and Thor burst from the woods across the trail.

  Two women screamed.

  Timmy whistled again. It started sharp and faded deep. Athena lunged at the three women, nipping at them like a dog rounding up sheep. They ran, squealing like pigs, and Athena took chase.

  Thor stood rigid in the middle of the trail. Timmy’s young victim took a small step back. Thor growled, baring his fangs. She whimpered. “Easy, puppy. Good puppy.” She sobbed.

  Timmy silently rose and moved to his right as she took another backward step. He pounced on her, smashing the back of her head with the handle of his hunting knife. She went limp in his arms.

  He threw her over his shoulder and blended back into the trees. Thor sauntered behind him. Halfway to his van he let out another whistle in one breath. Deep sharp sharper.

  The girl’s sweatshirt was damp with perspiration against his neck. He breathed in deep, taking in the smell of vanilla and cinnamon off her clothes.

  When he got to the edge of the woods he took a quick look around. The small parking area was empty. It always was at this time of day. The park police were too busy making sure the larger parking areas were clearing out for the night.

  He shoved the woman into the back of his van, and taped up her limbs and gagged her. Thor leapt in, landing on top of her chest. She moaned, but didn’t open her eyes.

  Branches cracked and leaves crunched. Timmy didn’t flinch. Athena charged from the woods and jumped in, landing gracefully beside the girl’s head.

  Timmy grinned at them. “Good dogs.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Cassie wanted to cover up her awkward question about Rick’s mother. Say something, anything. The coyotes quit singing their song and the room grew quiet. His thigh brushed hers.

  She fought the urge to rub against him and stared at her burger. Should she just start stuffing her face?

  Kurt. Talk about him. She opened her mouth as Rick’s finger hooked under her chin. His breath feathered across her lips.

  Her hand trailed the silky fabric of his shirt, across his shoulders and to his chest. Their lips met and warmth flooded her. It’d been way too long for her. The heat deepened as it swam lower. His tongue entwined with hers. She let out a soft moan.

  He gripped the seat of her stool and pulled her closer. But not close enough. She inched back from his face, rose, and straddled the rock hard bulge in his lap. The passion intensified as their hands roamed each other’s bodies. She gripped the back of his head, running through the thickness of his hair. His hands moved from her knees to the hem of her shirt. In one motion he’d slid it over her head.

  Her body tingled as his eyes ran up her curves. They stopped and feasted on her breasts. Her nipples ached to be free of the constricting lace. He seemed to read her mind and with one hand he unclasped her bra. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.

  Fingers stroked the inside of her legs. She threw her head back, pressing her hips into his. His mouth teased and stroked. Teeth pinched. Lips soothed.

  She shivered with his every touch, needing to feel his skin against hers. With a light hand she pushed him back and stared into his unwavering eyes. She went to work on his shirt, one button at a time. The small, circular discs slippery in her tingling fingers.

  He rose and lifted her up with him, placing her on the counter with ease. His shirt slipped free from his shoulders. Corded muscles covered in flawless tanned skin. He was more perfect than she imagined. He spread her knees and fit his solid body in between. He unbuttoned her jeans and ripped them free. Large hands rested on her calves, then traveled up her bare skin.

  His fingers stopped at her knees and he lowered his head. A warm breath moved up the inside of her thigh and stopped just short of the already damp lace. She gasped as he went to the other leg. He continued up, spreading her thighs wider, making her lightheaded. His tongue flicked across her pulsing center. The material of her panties rubbed against her and she bit down on her lip to keep from yelling out.

  He slid the skimpy bottoms off. She raised her hips and his mouth consumed her. Fire rose in her abdomen. She cried out, her muscles contracting. His arms wrapped around each knee in a vice-grip. He pushed her harder into his face. Every moan and whimper she made seemed to urge him on more. His tongue flicked against her, faster and harder. Wet heat flowed from her body, and she arched back.

  He stood, lips glistening and swollen. His pants and briefs dropped to the floor.

  Cassie’s face flushed red-hot. There was no going back now. Her knuckles brushed against wiry hair as her hand stroked against velvet. He moaned and she tightened her grip. Silken drops broke free from his tip.

  He ran a hand up her stomach and pushed her back to the window. She slid her hips to the edge of the counter. “I want you inside of me.”

  He rubbed his hardness against her and slipped into her core. She stopped breathing. Her body trembled around him. Heaven.

  His body stretched against her tight walls. He moved slowly as if he feared he’d hurt her. She couldn’t wait. It’d been so long. She wanted to feel the full length of him. Her muscles tensed and she slammed her body into his.

  He matched her intensity with his own. Ripples of electricity shocked her senses. The cabinets rattled and the counter shimmied underneath her. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Her body jerked. She was so close.

  Sweat dripped down his chest. She tensed, the heat returned with a vengeance. Her back arched, her legs quaked as she panted for breath.

  His eyes closed. His mouth opened and his body coiled as he exploded.

  Cassie let out a moan that came from deep within. Once it started, she couldn’t stop. She shuddered for what seemed like eternity. The intense heat flowing out of her in waves.

  He leaned against the counter, his head on her shoulder, breathing hard. “Jesus Christ. Where have you been all my life?”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.” She draped her arms around his neck and held him close, savoring the feeling of her release. His heart pounded against her chest. She laughed. Their burgers lay in messy mounds on t
he floor. “So much for dinner.”

  He smiled at her, kissed her nose before helping her off the counter. The shrill sound of his cell phone pierced through their satisfied silence.

  Cassie picked their clothes up off the floor, tossing his onto the bed as she headed for the bathroom. That had to be Ferraro. She felt reenergized. They should’ve done this weeks ago.

  Her phone rang from the bedside table. She answered. “Hank. What’s up? Is Gary awake?”

  “No,” he said. “But I need you guys to get your asses back here. Another woman has been abducted. Call me when you’re on the way.” The line went dead.

  If Steven was their guy and he abducted another woman, he could be heading to the cabin. She needed to call him back.

  “Fuck!” Rick hung up his phone and slammed his fist against the mattress.

  “Who was that? What’s going on?”

  “We need to get back. They’re sending two more agents from headquarters to take over the case.”

  She shook her head. “What? They can’t do that. This is not a federal case.”

  Rick struggled into his clothes. “It is now. The woman our guy just abducted works at the post office. One of the agents they’re sending isn’t quite fond of me.” He paused, a hint of guilt in his eyes. “Cassie, I’m not sure how involved they’ll let you be anymore.”

  Her chest clenched. They could take her off the case. “But the cabin,” she stammered. “He could be heading there. Why can’t we stop by before we head back? They wouldn’t know the difference.”

  “Because we can’t,” Rick raised his voice to just below shouting. “I’ve been ordered back.”

  Cassie held her clothes against her naked body as she strode toward him. “Don’t you dare yell at me! I have a right to know what the hell is going on. We have a major lead here and you want to tuck tail and run? I’ll just go on my own.”

  He grabbed her arm and lowered his head. “Agent Flemings hates my guts and if we do anything that he didn’t approve of he would have no problem reporting us. I tried to explain to him about the cabin and he wouldn’t listen. Told me to forget about it and head back.”

  She yanked free of his grip. “So what’s the worst that happens? We get suspended? Would they really suspend us if we found where a serial killer, a cop killer, was holed up?”

  “Listen to me, if I thought all we would get is a slap on the wrist it wouldn’t even be a thought to go back. But this guy has major pull, he can, and he will, ruin your career.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Please, trust me on this. We’ll call Ferraro on the way and have him head over to check it out. If anything seems out of place, I’ll have Ferraro call Flemings personally. That way it’d be Flemings’ call and his ass if he doesn’t agree to let us turn around.”

  Cassie slapped his hand. “It’s not going to be his ass. It’ll be the ass of whatever woman our guy decided to take as his next victim. There better be a really good reason for this guy to hate you so much.”

  Rick’s face paled and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “We need to go. Now.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Kurt Mason drove his truck down the lane. He’d called the sheriff’s office and found out that Detective Logan and Agent Sanders had headed back to Long Island in a rush. That could only mean two things. Another body or another woman went missing.

  Sheriff Ferraro was still out looking for a four-year-old boy in the woods. Which took precedence over his hunch. Kurt couldn’t wait any longer to find out. He needed to see the place for himself. Know once and for all if his thoughts about Steven were true.

  He tightened his hands on the steering wheel, sharp pains flooding his knuckles. Why didn’t he tell them everything? He had wanted to, especially when Detective Logan had told him about her partner. But the words had stuck like gnats to fly paper on his lips. He’d never told anyone, not even his Chelsea.

  If Steven was the one doing all this killing, it would be all his fault. God forgive him.

  Swiping at tears, he parked in a small field near a fishing hole he’d never had any luck in. If someone was at the cabin, it wouldn’t be smart to go charging in. He locked his truck and headed down the narrow path with his flashlight. It grew darker the deeper into the woods he went. The sky grayed and clouded over. There was snow in the forecast, but he figured he had enough time to take a quick look and make it back home before it began.

  A two mile hike brought him to a shallow stream. The little water left was frozen solid. He crossed over it and the thick logs of the cabin came into view. Leaning against a massive pine tree, he listened for any noise and watched for any movement.

  The structure looked as he remembered it. Maybe he’d been wrong about everything. He edged closer and his stomach turned. It’d been fixed up. The roof patched and the deck stained. The boards he’d put over the windows were ripped free. Something glinted on the front door. A padlock.

  With his heart thumping, he glanced around. An owl hooted from the treetops. He moved to the side of the cabin and tried to wipe the grime from the window with his coat sleeve. It took him a moment to realize the panes had been spray painted black on the inside. Shit. Not good.

  He crept to the porch and up the stairs. The padlock hung open. He glanced over his shoulder at the empty drive. A critter rustled in the bushes along the tree line.

  He knocked. “Hello? Anyone here?” He paused, twisted the knob and the door pushed open. “Hello?” Silence answered his calls. He knocked dirt from his boots on the doorframe and stepped inside.

  An overwhelming smell of bleach and orange wood cleaner made him cough. He covered his nose, running his light along each object in the room. Two chairs stood in front of the fireplace. A small dinette along the wall and a cot, folded in the corner. It all looked the same, too much the same. Somebody had been using this cabin for a while.

  A duffle bag sat on the counter. He opened it. A few bottles of water, granola bars, a jug of bleach, latex gloves. He zipped it back up. Something clanked against the counter underneath it. A pocketknife.

  What the hell?

  His hand shook as the light illuminated the initials carved into the handle. He’d know this blade anywhere. J.H.B. – Jack Henry Bailey, Steven’s father. The knife slipped from his grip and clattered to the floor. He picked it up and placed it back where he’d found it.

  Steven was back. Why else would Jack’s knife be here? He forced himself to take a breath. He was moving too quick, jumping to conclusions. Maybe Jack had left the knife here and whoever was using the cabin found it. It didn’t have to be Steven. It could be a drifter who had decided to make this his new home.

  He thought about everything Logan and Sanders told him. What he didn’t tell them. He glanced outside. No movement, he was still alone. The barn caught his eye. Since he was here he may as well check it out.

  A full moon peeked out between thinning clouds. The snow must’ve missed them. He reached the wooden structure and tugged on the heavy chain and padlock. No way he could get it open without bolt cutters. He continued around to the side of the building to a small window. It was spray painted black just like the cabin.

  He cursed himself for not activating the cellular phone his daughter bought him. Now he’d need to drive home to call Sheriff Ferraro and let him know they definitely had somebody living there. He also needed to come clean about Steven.

  A car engine hummed. Dirt and rocks crunched and popped under tires. Kurt switched off his flashlight and froze. He couldn’t see the driveway from behind the barn. Maybe it was Ferraro. No headlights though. Kurt’s fingers brushed the cool steel holstered on his belt.

  A car door slammed. He put his back against the wall.

  “Didn’t think you had to worry, huh?” a voice asked with a chuckle.

  Kurt’s skin crawled. His breath hitched. He’d know that laugh anywhere.

  “Running at a different park,” Steven said, “with a group of friends. No dog at your side. Bet you never thought you’d end up he
re with me.”

  His legs weakened. Steven was the killer. No question. Kurt snuck around the back of the barn to the other side. The moon shone brighter as the storm clouds moved away. He crept behind a woodpile, crouched down and peered over the top.

  A light breeze ruffled his thinning hair. At least he was upwind. If Steven had dogs with him, they wouldn’t be able to smell him.

  The moon lit up the van in the driveway like it was under a floodlight. Steven’s nose, chin, possibly his cheekbones had been altered. Then again, Kurt already knew that. He’d been the one that took him to the hospital, paid for the procedures to fix him up. His hair was a lighter shade of brown. He looked nothing like the eighteen-year-old boy he remembered.

  Steven pulled a girl by her torn shirt, and she struggled against her bindings as she tumbled from the back of the van. Two massive dogs jumped out and sat on either side of her, their eyes glowing yellow.

  “Phew. You smell like a pig.” He waved a hand in front of his face. “I’m gonna have to clean you up.” He trailed his fingers down the length of the girl’s body, and she jerked away from his touch. “This is going to be fun. I’ll be right back.”

  Kurt fidgeted. With the dogs outside he wouldn’t be able to make it though the woods back to his truck. They’d hear him. He’d have to wait. His legs ached and he shifted from one foot to the other.

  Steven came back out with a bar of soap and a hose coiled around his shoulder. He placed them on the ground in front of the girl. She was gagged, her blonde hair cemented to her forehead. Sweat stains gathered under her arms and down her back.

  “Now listen,” Steven said. “You try to run, or do anything stupid, and I’ll let these dogs rip you limb to limb. Do you understand?”

  The girl stared at the ground, whimpering. He slapped her hard across her dirt-stained face. “I said, do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  Kurt felt helpless. He held his pistol in his hands. He was twenty or thirty yards away. Too far for his old eyes. He couldn’t guarantee he’d kill either dog. He could stand with his pistol raised and demand Steven to stop, but the dogs would be on him in an instant. A dull ache had already started in his knuckles. What if he dropped his gun? Even if he killed one dog there were two of them, and Steven may have a gun too.