by D. K. Hood
“Anything else I should know?” Jenna sucked in a deep breath then regretted it, tasting the awful smell of the morgue on her tongue. “So far everything matches Mr. Barry’s story about the murder.”
“We’ll have the results from the samples in a day or so but I doubt they will give us any more information about the killer. It’s pointless revisiting the crime scene; heavy rain will have destroyed any further blood evidence or footprints.” Wolfe sighed. “As we found no trace evidence from a third person on Lilly’s body, it endorses Mr. Barry’s recollection that the killer was covered from head to foot. In my opinion from the evidence I’ve found, he is telling the truth.” He shook his head and covered the body with reverence then lifted his gaze to Jenna. “Be careful in the forest. This killer is dangerous; he could be influenced by drugs and is frightened of nothing.”
40
Kane rode beside Jenna, allowing Rowley to take the lead. During the time Jenna had attended the autopsy, he had dug into Brayden and Joseph Blythe’s lives. After discovering both had priors for assault, he discussed the pair with old Deputy Walters. It was common knowledge around these parts that the Blythes took shots at anyone venturing unannounced on their land. He did not intend to walk into a potentially dangerous situation and had added their phone number to his contacts.
They had left the firebreak and headed down the mountain along an overgrown trail winding its way through the forest. As the pathway narrowed, he fell back, allowing Jenna to ride in the middle. He kept his mind alert, scanning the forest for any movement or glimpses of color.
His attention went to every tree they rode past, checking for any sign of a trail cam. Right now, he trusted no one. As far as he was concerned, they had entered the lion’s den. Jenna was a close example of the type the killer enjoyed torturing and could be watching them.
Anyone could conceal themselves within the shadowy depths of the forest. With the wind creaking the branches overhead, and the wealth of wildlife on the move disguising any possible footfalls, a man in camouflage would be invisible. Hell, he had hidden himself in a forest many times during his deployment and had taken down the enemy without breaking a sweat.
The killer had chosen a perfect background for his crimes, and the size of the forest alone gave him a huge advantage; he could be anywhere in an area of over a million acres. Wearing Kevlar jackets would give them a slight advantage, but with three of them, the killer might go for a headshot.
He moved his horse up closer to Jenna as they maneuvered through a tight switchback. “Hey, Jenna. Don’t get too far ahead of me.”
She slowed and turned in her saddle, a concerned look on her face. “You okay?”
“Yeah, and if that crazy is in the area, I want to be close by.” He looked ahead, seeing only the tip of Duke’s tail moving through the long grass. “Even Duke is invisible up here.”
“I’ll be damned if I’m going to allow a serial killer to spoil the forest for me.” She dropped her reins and spread her arms wide. “This place is magnificent, and when I’m out here with you, I feel safe not scared. When this nightmare is over, we have to spend a weekend up here and regenerate.” She tipped her head toward Rowley moving away in the distance. “He would make a good agent. His head has been turning in all directions. He is getting like you and watching every movement.”
He smiled at her. “You trained him well.”
Ahead Rowley had stopped and turned around, regarding them with interest. Kane waved at him. “How much further?”
“The border of their land is just over there.” Rowley pointed into the distance. “I can see the signs.”
“Okay, hold up, I’ll give them a call.” Kane slipped the cellphone from his pocket and called the number. “Mr. Blythe, this is Deputy Kane. The sheriff needs to speak with you about a man seen trespassing in this area at night. Can we come up to the house?”
“I guess, but I don’t know nothin’ ’bout no trespassers.”
“Thanks, we’ll be there directly.” Kane disconnected and nodded at Jenna. “We’re good to go.”
He urged his horse forward and followed Rowley to an overgrown driveway; no gate but “No trespassing” signs written haphazardly in red across rough boards littered the area. The paint on the hand-drawn letters had dripped down the boards like blood, giving each one a macabre tone as if to add to the warning. The smell of rotting flesh wafted toward them, and he shot a glance at Jenna. “That doesn’t smell good.”
“Be on alert, we don’t know what to expect.” Jenna’s eyes flashed a warning as she uncovered her sidearm and rested her palm on the handle of her pistol.
When Duke gave his characteristic whine, telling Kane to beware, the hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. He turned to Rowley. “Fall back and stay in the cover of the trees; they don’t know you are with us and we might need you to watch our backs. Have your rifle at the ready.”
“Sure thing.” Rowley moved his horse into the shadows of the pines.
“Oh!” Jenna pulled up beside him, her mouth turned down in obvious disgust. “Are they skins?”
Kane stared at the dilapidated cabin with a rickety old porch. Various skins, squirrel and maybe rat, dangled from the front porch, crawling with flies. “Yeah, I figure they use them for blankets. Walters mentioned they rarely go into town unless it’s to buy ammunition. He also said they have an arsenal of weapons and Brayden might be an old man but he is a tough SOB.”
“They eat rats?” Jenna’s face blanched. “That’s disgusting.”
Kane wrinkled his nose. “I’d say the men inside the cabin won’t smell too good either. How do you want to handle this, ma’am?”
“I’ll do the talking.” She lifted her chin and gave him a determined stare. “You keep your hand on your weapon. We could be stirring up a bee’s nest.”
The front door of the cabin creaked open a crack and the long barrel of a rifle slid through the opening.
Jenna’s voice rang out, loud and clear. “Brayden Blythe, this is Sheriff Alton. Lower your weapon. I’m not here to arrest you. I just need to ask you some questions.”
“I have the right to bear arms to protect my property.” Blythe’s gray head stuck out. “Throw your weapons on the ground and I’ll talk.”
“That is not going to happen, Mr. Blythe.” Jenna moved her horse forward in a show of courage. “Or do you have reason to hide behind that door? We’ve had a number of murders in this neck of the forest and video confirmation of a prowler in the area. If you refuse to cooperate, I can only assume you had something to do with the murders.”
“I didn’t kill nobody.” A slight man in his seventies, white hair flowing to his shoulders and wearing a tattered army jacket over filthy camouflage pants, edged his way out the door. “Say your piece then get the hell off my land.”
“Is your son at home?” Jenna’s attention had not wavered. She sat straight-backed and with her chin set in a stubborn angle. “I would like to speak with both of you.”
“I’m here.” Joseph Blythe stepped onto the porch, a broken shotgun over one arm. He wore jeans and a squirrel-skin vest over a plaid shirt. “We don’t know nothin’ ’bout no murders.”
“Have you seen anyone in the area or suspected someone has been sleeping in your barn over the last week or so?” Jenna’s mare danced on the spot, eyes rolling at the smell of death. “The Finches have footage of a man hanging around their barn at night.”
The Blythes turned away and spoke to each other in hushed tones, ignoring Jenna’s question. Kane moved to her side. His mount seemed to calm the mare and she settled. He leaned toward Jenna. “What are they up to?”
“I hope they’re not planning on murdering us to eat for dinner.” Jenna’s mouth quirked up in the corners. “Although, you’d likely be tougher than squirrel.”
“Thanks.” Kane shook his head and dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “Don’t worry. I could take them down before they took aim.”
“I’m bank
ing my life on it.” Jenna’s gaze drifted over him for a split second before returning to the Blythes.
Kane took in the size of both men: The older man would not fit the description of being strong and mobile but the son was a muscular man in his late thirties or early forties. Colter Barry had not mentioned seeing two men at the scene of the crime and he would imagine these men did just about everything together. “Joseph fits the description Barry gave us, but it’s his father who has the reputation of being crazy.”
“Well, Mr. Blythe?” Jenna’s expression had turned into exasperation. “If you have something to tell us, spit it out; we have other people to visit this afternoon.”
“Nope, we haven’t seen anyone.” Brayden Blythe moved out onto the porch, his attention focused on Duke. “But I’ll trade you for the dog.”
Kane jumped in before Jenna had time to react, hoping he might get a chance to see inside the house. “What are you offering? Weapons?”
“You wouldn’t.” Jenna’s horrified expression surprised him. “No way.”
“Trust me.” Kane swung down from his horse and led his mount toward Joseph. “I’m always looking for a new weapon. Would you mind holding my horse? He is a bit skittish around the sheriff’s mare.”
“Yeah, Joe will take care of your horse. We have weapons and stuff. Come inside and I’ll show you.”
Kane moved through the door and ducked his head. The low ceilings closed around him in a claustrophobic nightmare. Inside, the rank stench of rotting flesh overlaid with unwashed male and garbage burned his nostrils. With every one of his senses on high alert, he peered into the dim room, waiting a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the light before following the old man. He scanned the area for a booby trap, keeping one ear open for Joseph to creep up behind him.
Avoiding the desire to reach for his flashlight, he batted away flypaper hanging all through the house like Christmas decorations and moved through piles of skins, stacked up and tied with string. Old barrels filled with parts of antlers were against one wall and a row of jars containing teeth sat on a bookcase. The only sign of comfort came in the form of two old sofas beside the hearth. Shoot, he’d been inside tanks that offered more comfort. Filthy cushions on the seats sank low to the floor before a coffee table piled high with dirty dishes. Cockroaches scattered, making a rushing sound, moving from one garbage-inspired décor theme to another. The clutter continued through into the kitchen. For an ex-military man, Brayden Blythe sure was messy.
The kitchen at least had windows, where light tried to force its way through the grime. Kane’s attention went to a line of pegs beside the back door. Three backpacks in a range of colors and styles hung in a neat row, and beneath them boots of various sizes. “You married? Any other kids?”
“Nope.” Blythe indicated with one dirty finger to the backpacks. “They’re mine, found abandoned in the forest. I didn’t steal nothin’. I hoped someone would offer a reward or somethin’ and I posted a found notice in the general store window, all legal like.”
Kane noticed the man’s belligerent expression. “Can you tell me exactly where you found them and when?”
“Nope, last one was over a year ago.” Blythe smiled a yellow grin. “Could have been on one of fifty or so trails, and my memory ain’t so good these days.”
Kane kept his back to the counter, eyeing the impressive rows of weapons taking up one entire wall. Below they had stacked boxes of ammunition off the floor on a pile of cinder blocks. “You went through them, right?”
“Yeah, didn’t find much—clothes most times and food, no IDs.” Blythe screwed up his face. “We didn’t touch nothin’. People get lost up here or the bears or cats get them. I didn’t steal nothin’.”
Kane shrugged. “I didn’t say you did.” He moved closer to the backpacks and examined them. As far as he could determine, the bags had no blood spatter and he had no evidence for a search warrant to seize them as evidence. Although, if Blythe gave them to him willingly and signed a statement, any evidence they found would be admissible. He waved a hand toward the bags. “Although they interest me, what do you want for them?”
“The bloodhound?” Blythe looked hopeful then shook his head. “Nope, I’d have to sweeten the deal. Your dog would be worth a deal of money.”
“Well, you don’t have anything I’m looking for in weapons, if that is all you have?” Kane kept one hand resting on the butt of his pistol as Blythe still had a firm grip on his rifle.
“That’s all.” Blythe chewed on his bottom lip. “Shame, I really like your dog.”
“Have you seen or heard anything unusual over the last week or so?” Kane watched his reaction but the old man’s attention span seemed to drift in and out.
“There is always somethin’ going on in the forest.” Blythe gave Kane a long, considering look. “I seen things out there. Heard whispers and screams that ain’t no cat. Found a thigh bone all chewed up one day. Joe, he brings home the bags when he is out huntin’ squirrel.” He lowered his voice. “He seen Charlie out there hiding in the woods, waiting to ambush him. He’s a smart kid—he doubled back and we locked up the place and kept watch all night. Heard shots and screams, the bastard took down one of ours. He’s out there waitin’. You need to watch your back.”
Kane nodded. The old man was reliving his time in the Vietnam War. “Charlie” was derived from the radio code, Victor Charlie or VC for the Viet Cong enemy soldiers. Perhaps Joseph had seen the Asian man before he was brutally murdered. Or was Joseph the killer? He needed to get back to Jenna so he pulled two fifty-dollar bills from his wallet. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks for the backpacks and the shoes. I’ll need you to sign a statement saying you handed over the bags willingly and without duress. Take it or leave it. The dog stays with me.”
“Done.” The man spat on his hand and held it out with a grin.
Kane looked at the rotting yellow teeth and slapped the bills into the man’s hand, avoiding the spittle. “Thanks. I’ll write up a statement in my notebook for you to sign.”
“Sure, when we’re done, send Joe in and we’ll throw them in a sack and bring them outside.” He opened the door to a huge refrigerator and pulled out a beer. “Beer?”
Kane made sure to take note of the contents of the fridge, relieved no body parts sat on the shelves. “Ah, no thanks, I’m on duty.”
Business done, Kane went to the back door and flung it open, glad of the fresh air. “I’ll go out this way. I need the exercise.” He escaped from the cabin and took a good look around the ramshackle buildings.
Apart from the goats and a few chickens, nothing seemed out of place, and the disgusting smell seemed to be coming from the house. He wandered around to the front of the cabin and noticed Jenna’s pinched expression. After nodding to her, he walked to Joseph. “Your father wants help carrying out the rucksacks and boots. Nice place. Does it have a root cellar?”
“Nope, it sits on bedrock.” Joseph turned to go.
“Where did you find the backpacks? And your father mentioned a thigh bone. Human, was it?”
“We found them bags all over. I found the bone some years ago and I’m no doctor, it could have belonged to an elk. He would have told you about Charlie.” Joseph gave him a curious glare. “I wasn’t imagining seeing Charlie up the mountain last week. Two of them in camo, one turned and looked at me, so I hightailed it back here, zigzaggin’ all the way. The old man might be crazy but I seen them with my own two eyes.”
Kane took in his concerned expression. He saw genuine fear in his eyes. “Are you sure there were two men? Not just hunters moving through the area? The majority of them wear camouflage—why are these men different?”
“Nope, it was Charlie. I saw one of their faces clear as I’m seein’ you now. He was Asian.”
When Joseph walked into the house, Kane glanced up at Jenna. “You good?”
“Yeah, he was a fountain of non-information.” She gave a sarcastic snort. “Find anything interesting?”
/> “Oh, yeah.” He gave Jenna the details. “The backpacks are crucial evidence, especially if we can identify the owners. If the killer has been active in this area for some time, he has covered his tracks well. Choosing a time before bears go into hibernation and eating everything available would be the perfect time to leave bodies for the wildlife to scatter. So far, his victims have been visitors, mostly on hiking holidays, who move around. Some could be foreign backpackers, and when they go missing they might not come up on our radar, or we haven’t found a body, so we dismiss the report.”
“Then we start finding bodies because the sudden increase in tourism and hunting has made it more likely for someone to stumble over the remains.” Jenna wrinkled her nose. “I hate to say it but you stink.”
“I hope it washes off and doesn’t follow me around.” He bent to pat Duke, and the bloodhound sniffed him then sneezed but remained close by. “Now there’s devotion.” He swung up into his saddle. “He doesn’t care.”
“Just stay downwind.” Jenna lowered her voice. “Do you think Joseph is involved?”
Kane gathered up his reins. “I’m not certain. He is smaller than the man who attacked Barry, but with army boots and a hat, he would look taller. They have an arsenal in the house but one thing was missing—a crossbow, and I doubt they have the cash to buy the type of bolts used in the homicides.”
“One thing is for sure.” Jenna pushed a lock of black hair from her face and tucked it inside her woolen cap. “We have localized the killing field. If what the Blythes said is true, this maniac is running riot the entire length of Bear Peak.”
41
Tuesday, Week two
“I’m fine, stop fussing.” Kane pushed the wrapped package of frozen peas against his temple and closed his eyes against the throbbing pain.