Book V:
The Game’s Afoot
Chapter 65
Simone was dressed to distract, to dazzle and beguile. She was a petite ebony-skinned vixen with a formidable physique. She wore a sequined raven’s mask and headdress, which covered her face and allowed only her full red lips to be seen. A matching sequin-studded black ribbon was tied around her sylphlike neck. Her lacey bra and panties were rather revealing and left little for James Lee Blugosh to interpret. She smiled prettily after examining his driver’s license. “Blugosh, that’s an interesting name—barely fits in the mouth, does it?” She handed it back to him and permitted entry into the small lodge.
“I don’t have any trouble with it. What else do you have trouble fitting in your mouth,” he said in an obnoxious tone.
She smiled coquettishly. “Not much,” she replied and looked him up and down. “Follow me.” She was barefoot, but the absence of high heels did not detract from the seductive manner in which she walked. Her waist was narrow and her legs were taut—her rear end swayed back and forth rhythmically like the notes from Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue.” “I hope you found your way here okay.”
Blugosh took a moment to collect his thoughts and familiarize himself with the new setting before shutting the door. He examined the modest surroundings, which did nothing to hint at the intrigue and exhilaration he had traveled three hours to enjoy. The lodge was decorated in the rustic tradition. The walls were made of split-wood paneling, and the overhead chandeliers were wrought iron. It looked like a hunting lodge in every way but was not meant for customary game. “I got here all right,” his tone suggesting that he was completely competent to the task. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist, and his outward manner was distrustful. “Where’s the gent I spoke to over the phone, the one I arranged things with?”
“What’s wrong? You don’t find me acceptable?” She pouted.
What kind of a setup is this? His thoughts were suspicious. His jaw clicked from tension. “Acceptable for what?” he snapped.
“Hold out your arms,” Simone said, ignoring his question. She dumped a pile of gear in his outstretched arms as if she were handing an inmate his prison yard coveralls and standard-issue toiletries. The black commando’s mask sat atop the pile of clothing. She pointed to where an assortment of hunting bows were mounted on the wall along with quivers filled with arrows. “Take your pick,” she said as she intentionally grazed the back of his hand with her long, painted fingernails, and then once again gestured toward the weapons. “I like the Precision Inferno Wildfire Crossbow, but any of the others will do you just fine. All the arrows have carbon shafts and razor-sharp stainless steel points that’ll slice through flesh as if it were butter.”
He became wild eyed. “What If I don’t want to hunt with a damn bow and arrows? I look like a goddamn Apache to you?”
“Well then, you’ll just have to use the two hands the good Lord gave you, James Lee, but you’re the last one to arrive, and everyone else is using one of the weapons we’ve supplied.”
She was still just inches away, so close he could feel the heat radiate off her body and permeate his skin, close enough for him to snap her neck as he had done to so many women before her. He could almost feel his fingertips on her throat, touching and then pausing just for a moment before encircling her neck with his powerful hands and squeezing it like a supple bath sponge. His hands twitched and his eyes darted back and forth.
“Get dressed, James Lee, the hunt starts in just a few minutes.”
“So soon? But what—”
“What are the rules?”
He nodded with uncertainty.
“You already know the Rules of the Kill, don’t you? Everyone has to accept them before they’re invited to the hunt.” She searched his eyes for signs of comprehension. He’s totally confused, she thought. He’s all set. She unclasped her bra, let it fall off, and then slid her panties to the ground.
Blugosh was at the same time astonished and bewildered. He was completely out of his element and uncertain of what to do. He was accustomed to dominating his prey in every situation, each step carefully planned and rehearsed, but now … Here he was, a beginner in a new game, one that required spontaneity and improvisation, characteristics that were not in his arsenal.
While she had him mesmerized, she popped up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Why, James Lee, what are you waiting for?” She dashed past him toward the front door and opened it. She was outside, facing him, her body already disappearing into the shadowy night. “Catch me if you can, James Lee. I’m the prey.”
Chapter 66
It took us hours to locate and read through all the files on Jo’Ell Sand, some of which went back almost twenty years. His name was mentioned repeatedly in the police report. He had been questioned on Bloom’s disappearance, but transcripts made from Bloom’s voicemail recordings indicated that Sand had made several calls to Bloom after he missed his appointment. One had been made less than an hour after the missed appointment. There were several others—Sand had called repeatedly, at first voicing concern for Bloom’s well-being, but later ones expressing irritation and accusing Bloom of being rude. The interview between the police and Sand had been well documented and chronicled his relationship with Bloom. He was ruled out as a suspect.
“I, for one, would like to speak with Sand again. I spoke to Max Teller earlier and he knows who Sand is. Said that he was a quiet man—never been in trouble with the law.”
“Hard to miss a face like that. Did you get a load of the kisser on that kid? You meet with him,” Cabrera said. He shivered to demonstrate that Sand’s image was disturbing. “That face gives me the willies. Don’t forget to check under your beds tonight, ladies. I’m gonna sleep with my gun under the pillow.”
Glutt grimaced. “Gee, Cabrera, who knew you were such a pussy? And to think I was going to give it up for you. The last thing I need is another sensitive man in my bed.”
“Stuff it, Glutt,” Cabrera retaliated. “I’m every inch as tough an hombre as you’ll ever come across.”
Glutt fanned herself, pretending that Cabrera had gotten to her. “I do believe I’ve come down with a case of the vapors,” she said with a Southern accent.
“Knock it off, you two.” My God, what knuckleheads. The witching hour had tolled, and we were all pretty much brain-dead, hence all the uncensored digs and banter.
“Speaking analytically, Jo’Ell Sand could very well be the man we’re looking for. Look at his history. He was born with severe deformities and suffered the loss of his mother at age three. He was raised by his father, a guttersnipe drug addict, who was a suspect in his mother’s murder. I mean, come on, I don’t know how any child could go through that rat’s maze and come out normal on the other side. He likely developed severe hostility issues toward his father and is channeling his aggression toward men who abuse women.”
“Hell yes. This character Blunt sounds like the kind of ghetto thug I’d like to smack around just on general principles,” Glutt said. “The only thing I’m troubled with is that Sand’s early records speak about his slow mental development, but there’s nothing in the police report that mentions any cognitive disability. The person we’re looking for has to be highly intelligent. Whoever is responsible for the three homicides staged and orchestrated very complicated killing scenarios and carried them out with finesse.”
Thank God she’s finally delivering the goods. Not that it took a rocket scientist to figure it out, but her validation doesn’t hurt. “Maybe he was just a slow starter.”
“Perhaps.” Glutt picked up a handful of cashews and munched on them. “There had to be a dramatic and life-changing event in Sand’s development. Based upon his early developmental evaluations, there’s no way he’d be capable of these offenses.”
Cabrera’s eyes were bloodshot. “Can it wait until morning? I’m about to fall on my face.”
I examined my colleagues’ faces. I wanted to wrap u
p the case as fast as humanly possible, but there was no imperative for us to venture out to Sand’s home in the middle of the night even though there was a definite tactical advantage to rousting an UNSUB when he was asleep—now, as always, there’s nothing as strategic as the element of surprise. I checked my watch. “We’re a short drive to the address listed on the police report. Can we meet up at four thirty? I’d like to be at Sand’s door before the sun comes up.”
“Four thirty?” Glutt asked, balking at the sacrifice. She was a POG, a marine’s term for an insider, an analyst who never saw real action in the field. “I—”
“Sleep in, Rebecca. This is for Cabrera and me to handle.”
“But—”
“But you’re curious and you want to go along?”
She nodded.
“Your call, the sandman or Jo’Ell Sand. We’ll be in the lobby at four thirty sharp. Either you’ll be there or you won’t.”
Chapter 67
“Oh shit!” I clutched my chest and sat up in bed. I was startled and unsure of what I was hearing. I quickly summoned my focus and glanced at the alarm clock but knew it was my cell phone that had rung even before I noticed the time. I had only been asleep an hour, and my head was pounding painfully. “Hello?”
It was the Monticello chief of police. He was speaking in a hushed voice. “Mather, sorry to wake you. It’s Max Teller.”
I wanted to say what the fuck but didn’t. Back in boot camp I had been awakened at all kinds of god-awful hours and had become somewhat accustomed to the abuse. “That’s all right, Chief. What’s going on?”
“Me and a couple of my deputies are over at the Sand property.”
“Sand? Jo’Ell Sand?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why?”
“One of the local kids didn’t come home for dinner. The kid’s got a cell phone, and his folks have been calling him all night long. We went out looking and spotted the kid’s dog running on the road around here. There’s something going on.”
“What do you mean?”
“People sneaking around in the dark. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were hunting, but out here in the dark, someone could get killed. I was gonna intercede, but I didn’t want to move in, knowing Sand was one of the people you were looking at.”
I was already out of bed, pacing and trying to wake up. “I can be there in twenty minutes. Can you keep a lid on it until I arrive?”
“No sweat, Mather. You need me to send someone to pick you up? I can have a car to your hotel in five minutes.”
I knew where the property was from looking at Google maps, but an escort would lower the odds of me getting lost in the dark. “I’ll be downstairs waiting in three.” It was part of my marine training; if I wasn’t early, I was late. I pulled on my slacks and reached for my shoes. My excitement was growing as I slipped them on. Waking Cabrera was a task I wasn’t looking forward to, but if it meant closing the case, well then … what the hell, the big fella would just have to deal.
Chapter 68
Blugosh blended into the night. He was a fast study, and his senses were peaked. His blood was boiling from the adrenaline Simone had injected into his veins mainline. Her face and form were in his mind, willing him to pursue her and taunting him with her overt sexuality. Having seen her, he could not shake her from his mind. He saw her even when she wasn’t there. He imagined her in the shadows peeking out from behind brush.
He carried the hunter’s bow and quiver, but more than anything he wanted to kill her in his own way, to squeeze the life from her and wring her neck until she was dead in his arms. Then and only then, when she was limp and lifeless, would he take her. He grew erect thinking about the act and could virtually feel himself inside her cooling inert body.
The hunting area was vast, a hundred acres of undeveloped land filled with trees, grottos, and rocky terrain. It was a veritable minefield of naturally occurring hazards. Any misstep might cause him to lose the game or much worse.
Stay focused. He repeated the command in his mind over and over, hoping to heighten his awareness of the surroundings. He stopped to listen—off in the distance he heard others moving around him. I must be close, he thought. The others are moving in the same direction. Move fast! Stay ahead of them. He loved the thrill of the hunt, but it would all be for nothing if she fell by someone else’s hand. The idea of losing her to another made him angry. He pictured one of the others doing to her what he longed to, and with their touch defiling her forever—she’d be just one more corpse that held no magic for him, and it was only through that magic that he felt alive.
Off to the right he heard movement and snapped his focus in the corresponding direction. He caught a fleeting glance of bare dark skin before it disappeared into the shadowy forest. The sighting had been so brief that he questioned whether he had actually seen her or if his mind was just playing tricks.
The sounds of others approaching grew louder. He hastened to stay ahead of them and dashed off to pursue his ghost.
Chapter 69
Cabrera was still yawning and rubbing his eyes as the police cruiser rolled slowly down the narrow road with the headlamps off. Up in the distance I caught a glimpse of another police car just barely visible in the glow of the moonlight. The driver’s door opened, and Max Teller got out of the car. He sauntered up to us as we rolled to a stop.
I was wired and could almost sense closure as I sprang from the police car. “Fill me in, Chief.”
“Lots of folks creeping around in the dark. Like I said, it’s kind of difficult to tell what they’re doing, but it’s almost two a.m., and I wouldn’t expect to see normal folks traipsing around at this hour. Sand’s property borders the Big Indian Wilderness Preserve. He and his cronies can do whatever they like as long as they act peaceable and stay off the preserve. I called you as soon as I realized it was his parcel.”
“What do you want to do?” Cabrera asked.
“Observe for now, I suppose.” I turned to Teller. “How many men do you have out here, Sheriff?”
“Just three. If Sand is hunting, it wouldn’t make sense to go sneaking around in the dark—might end up on the wrong end of a bullet. Know what I mean? We can watch from the periphery, but he’s got a lot of acreage. I don’t know how much we’d actually be able to see.”
Teller was right. Investigating unannounced might prove dangerous. Still, I had to know what was going on. I kept thinking about Rules of the Kill and couldn’t shake the feeling that Sand was about to take another life. “Any idea how many men are sneaking around on his property?”
Teller pursed his lips and shook his head. “Left my crystal ball at home, Mather. Your guess is as good as mine.”
An unlikely thought occurred to me—the people on Sand’s property could have been uninvited. I doubted it was true but … under the circumstances it made sense to advise the owner that trespassers might be on his property. It clearly gave Teller the excuse he needed to ring Sand’s doorbell. My eyes were wide open with anticipation as I pitched the scenario to him, all the while thinking, I want to get inside this freak’s house.
Chapter 70
Blugosh advanced into the woods. As he did, the sounds he had listened to so intently faded away, and the forest became completely quiet. The silence was a double-edged sword. He was happy to have lost the other hunters but afraid that the trail had grown cold. Have I lost her? He was obsessed with the worry of losing his conquest to someone else, obsessed with the idea of being unable to quench his fire. He had already begun to formulate a contingency plan. If he couldn’t kill Simone, he’d find someone else. He had passed an all-night diner on his way up Route 17. He pictured a local waitress in her uniform, behind the counter, pouring coffee and serving pie. Her skirt was short and her waist narrow where the apron straps wrapped around her. He smiled and felt confident that he’d find relief before the sun rose in the morning. Ordinarily not just anyone would do. He was attracted to a specific type of female and would have no
rmally selected his prey very carefully, but Simone had set him ablaze and he was burning out of control.
He pushed further, hoping that luck was on his side. How will I know? he wondered. How will I know if she’s been killed? He had caught glimpses of the other hunters as they explored the forest. Like him, they were anonymous, their identities concealed by the black commando masks. There would be no bragging rights for the winner of this competition. Any victory would be a personal one, as none of their identities would ever be revealed. Fine with me, but I want to kill her. I want to be the best.
It was difficult for him to discern the new sound he heard, but as he moved forward, it became clear—it was water rushing by. He moved toward the sound and, as it grew louder, saw a stream through the trees and the reflection of the moonlight upon the clear moving water. It drew him like a moth to a flame. It drew him in a manner he could not understand but felt the need to obey. He explored the footing in front of him and selected only soft earth to tread upon; one foot in front of the other, he methodically crept forward, drawn by an incomprehensible force. He moved stealthily until up ahead he could see where the tree line broke—it was perforated by the fast-moving stream.
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