Hunter/Prey (A Revenge Thriller)

by Sam Sisavath

“She’s dead!” Allie shouted. “Inside the bathroom, Donnie! He killed Sabrina when they were in the bathroom!”

  Donnie looked across the cabin at Beckard. “What’s she talking about? Where’s Sabrina?”

  “She’s finishing up,” Beckard said as he resumed his walk across the cabin living room.

  She was amazed at how casual he was, as if he were on a Sunday stroll instead of having just left a body behind in the bathroom. She had expected a bigger reaction from him—something, anything to give away that he was flustered by her accusation.

  “She’ll be out soon,” Beckard said.

  “Don’t trust him,” Allie said. “He’s lying, Donnie. Sabrina’s in there, and she’s dead. He killed her.”

  Donnie glanced at her again, then back at Beckard, like a child caught between two bickering parents, unable to decide who to trust. The big metal fork was still clutched in his hand, and she tried to will him to stick it into Beckard’s gut.

  “Why is she saying that?” Donnie asked.

  “She’s crazy; don’t listen to her,” Beckard said. He was halfway across the living room now, and passing her. “She knows she’s going to jail after this. She’s just desperate.”

  “Don’t listen to him!” Allie shouted. “Sabrina’s in there! He killed her with that knife!”

  Donnie’s eyes shifted to the knife on Beckard’s hip. She wondered if there was still blood on the blade. Maybe if she could get Donnie to look at it—

  Beckard had detoured at the last second and crouched in front of her. “Give it a rest. No one’s going to believe a crazy woman.”

  Allie ignored him and focused on Donnie instead. “Don’t let him get the shotgun, Donnie! Make him take you to the bathroom! You’ll see—”

  Beckard had picked up the roll of duct tape from the floor when she wasn’t looking, and he slapped a strip over her mouth now, cutting off the rest of her warning. She tried to get up but lost her balance and fell back down, landing sideways on the floor.

  Beckard stood back up. “Don’t listen to her, Donnie. She’s crazy, remember? She’ll say anything to get out of this. I wouldn’t be surprised if we find out she really did do something to her boyfriend.”

  Allie managed to turn herself until she could see Donnie in the kitchen. He had picked up the shotgun and was holding it at his side as he walked around the counter.

  Thank God he’s smarter than he looks.

  “But what’s she saying, about Sabrina?” Donnie said. “Where is she?”

  “I told you, she’s in the bathroom, cleaning up,” Beckard said. “It’s my fault. I was bleeding, and I guess I made a mess.”

  The man’s voice was amazingly relaxed, even…soothing. Was this how he had lured all his victims, she wondered. This unnatural calmness, even when confronted with a frazzled boyfriend holding a shotgun? Was this what allowed him to get away with it all these years? This sociopathic personality, this uncanny ability to spin lies at a moment’s notice?

  In all the research she had done on Beckard (even though she never knew his name until now), one thing was always certain: He was smart. Or maybe the right word was cunning. And now she could add creative to that list. The man simply knew how to adapt and overcome. It was an amazingly impressive trait, something to be admired if he was anything other than a sick murderer piece of shit.

  “You can go and check for yourself,” Beckard was saying. “I swear, Donnie, I didn’t do anything. You can’t listen to her. Remember what she did? She almost shot Sabrina with that shotgun earlier. And she might have, if you hadn’t tackled her.”

  Donnie’s eyes snapped back to Allie before returning to Beckard, only to return to her again. She wanted to yell at him to stop looking at her face and focus on Beckard instead, because the state trooper was still walking toward him. Very slowly, each deliberate step getting him closer and closer to Donnie, to the shotgun.

  Allie tried jerking her head in Beckard’s direction to lead his gaze where she wanted it. Tried to scream out the warning with her eyes and frantic head movements, because everything she wanted to say was lost as incoherent mumbling against the duct tape.

  Donnie continued to hold the Remington at his side as if it were a third arm he didn’t know how to use. Beckard must have seen that, too, because she noticed he had begun moving faster toward the younger man.

  “She’s inside the bathroom?” Donnie was saying to Beckard. His voice had lost some of its earlier intensity, which made Allie even more desperate. “She’s fine?”

  “Yeah, of course,” Beckard said. “She said she had to clean up because this is Wade’s uncle’s cabin and she didn’t want to leave a mess behind.”

  That seemed to resonate with Donnie and Allie saw, to her horror, his big body relaxing. “Yeah, she’s a stickler for that type of stuff. That’s why I love her.” Then he put the shotgun back on the counter and Allie’s heart sank. “Man, she really got me going there,” he said, staring daggers across the room at Allie.

  Beckard looked back at her, too. “I guess that’s one of her talents. She suckered me in earlier, too. I had no idea what she was capable of until she attacked.”

  “Girls, man,” Donnie said. “Can’t live with them…”

  “…can’t live without them?”

  “I was going to say, ‘Can’t live with them, can’t trust them not to bash your head in when you’re not looking.’”

  They both got a good laugh out of that.

  “You’re telling me,” Beckard said, and rubbed at the back of his head for effect.

  “Anyway, steak’s ready,” Donnie said. “You wanted medium rare, right?”

  “Yup. Man, that smells good.”

  Donnie walked back around the counter and picked up the fork. “She should hurry up. Hers was ready a while ago.”

  “I don’t think she’s coming, Donnie,” Beckard said.

  “Huh?”

  “Sabrina. I don’t think she’s coming out of the bathroom.”

  Donnie stared at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

  Oh, you stupid bastard. You stupid, stupid bastard.

  Beckard picked up the shotgun from the counter.

  Donnie stared at him, then at the shotgun, before returning his dumbfounded gaze to Beckard. The look on his face said it all. The man didn’t quite comprehend what had happened, what was happening, and what would happen in the next few seconds.

  “What I mean is, Sabrina’s dead,” Beckard said. “She’s right. I did kill your girlfriend in the bathroom. Sorry, kid.”

  “You…”

  Donnie looked across the room at Allie. She felt sorry for him. Stupid, dumb Donnie.

  He turned back to Beckard as the realization sunk in. “You killed her? My Sabrina?”

  “Yup,” Beckard said, as if he were discussing the weather.

  Something burst and Donnie ran around the counter, yelling wildly, raising the fork high above his head to strike. “You fucker!”

  Beckard shot him from almost point-blank range and blew a hole through Donnie’s chest, the discharge thundering inside the cabin. The big blond twenty-something flopped to the floor, the fork clattering a split second before an empty shell flew out of the Remington and landed nearby.

  Beckard turned around and shook his head, tsk tsking at Allie. “See what you did? I hope you realize this is all your fault.”

  He hadn’t finished talking when loud footsteps filled the room, coming from behind her.

  Allie managed to roll around in time to see Wade and Rachel racing out of the hallway. Wade, in front, slid to a stop at the sight of Beckard with the shotgun and Donnie’s body half-visible behind the counter.

  “What’s going on?” Wade asked, his voice trembling.

  Instead of answering with his mouth, Beckard chose to let the Remington do it for him. He fired a shot into the ceiling, the second round nearly as deafening as the first.

  Rachel, already hidden behind Wade, screamed and pressed her hands against her ea
rs, as if that would magically transport her away from here.

  “Donnie’s dead, and Sabrina’s dead, too,” Beckard said. He walked across the room, the barrel of the shotgun pointed at Wade’s chest. The weapon, like his hand, was amazingly steady. “Stay calm and don’t do anything stupid, and the two of you won’t join them. I promise.”

  Allie frantically tried to catch Wade’s eyes.

  He’s lying, Wade! He’s going to kill you and take Rachel!

  He’s lying! That’s what he does! He lies and lies, until he kills you!

  Wade didn’t seem to even remember she was there as he raised his arms into the air. “Okay, okay, whatever you say, man. Don’t hurt us, okay? We’ll do whatever you say, just as long as you don’t hurt us.”

  The sound of Beckard’s footsteps had stopped, and Allie rolled back around until she bumped up against a familiar steel-toed boot. She looked up at Beckard, who was smiling down at her, the barrel of the shotgun pointing nonchalantly at the ceiling.

  The smug look on his face said everything.

  He’d won.

  Again.

  “Two for the price of one,” Beckard said. “‘Dear Penthouse Forum, I didn’t think it would ever happen to me…’”

  Then his expression seemed to change and he narrowed his eyes at her. He didn’t say anything for a long time and was content to just look at her. This, she realized, was the first time they had stared so closely at one another, and she could see her own reflection in the orbs of his irises.

  “You know, you look familiar,” he said. “Have we met before?”

  Chapter 10

  “Go to hell,” she said when he pulled the duct tape off.

  Beckard smirked. “That’s not very nice. I’m trying to have a conversation with you here.”

  “Kiss my ass.”

  “Do you kiss your mom with that mouth?” Before she could answer, he slapped the tape back into place. “Never mind. I think I know what you’re going to say.” He continued to linger on her face. “I know you, though. I don’t know where. Not yet. But I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

  He left her lying on the floor on her side and stood up, then looked over at Wade and Rachel, leaning against each other nearby. Like Allie, their wrists and ankles were bound with duct tape. He had made sure to wrap an extra revolution around Wade just in case the kid proved stronger than he looked. He was tall and gangly and wasn’t anywhere close to Donnie’s hulking size, but there was no point in taking any chances now.

  He lingered on Rachel. She must have sensed him staring, because she turned and pushed herself further against Wade in an attempt to hide herself from him.

  Beckard smiled. “Relax; it’ll be over soon.”

  He headed to the kitchen, stepping over Donnie’s body. The big kid had bled all over the floor, pieces (well, chunks, anyway) of him still clinging to the countertops, drawers, and cabinets. It was pretty messy, but then Beckard was used to working in and around ugly scenes. He would have liked it to be more orderly, but there was no denying that everything had worked out just great for him, even if he did have to get really creative to keep things going for a while there.

  But that was over. Done. Two bodies in the cabin wasn’t a big deal. The kids had already told him they weren’t expected back at school until Monday. He was, for all intents and purposes, free and clear to do whatever he wanted for forty-eight hours.

  Especially with the girl. She was so his type, too.

  Beckard sat down on the stool and picked up the fork and knife and cut into the first steak. He was hungry. Starving. There was nothing like almost dying to ramp up the appetite. It was too bad Donnie had overcooked the meat.

  Beggars can’t be choosers.

  He ate by himself, humming quietly between bites.

  The woman, Allie, was staring at him from across the room, but he chose to ignore her. Like Rachel, she was his type, too, though he usually preferred them a little more, well, less bloodthirsty.

  Still, there was no denying it. The blonde hair, the long legs, the perfect cheekbones…

  He made his decision while he was eating. He would take Rachel first, then break Allie later. He might even go against his own rules about spending more than twenty-four hours with each girl. He had a feeling he’d need more than that with Allie. She might be worth it, too. It had been a while since he’d had this kind of challenge.

  That made him remember his aching side. Christ, it hurt. He really should go see a real doctor. He’d have to come up with a good excuse. A hunting accident, maybe. Some idiot in the woods shot him by mistake, then ran off.

  Yeah, that might work…

  Beckard sensed her still watching him. He looked up and met her eyes and smiled back at her. That made her look away, but he could see the cogs spinning inside her head in the way she glanced around the cabin while pretending she wasn’t.

  The door, the windows, Wade and Rachel next to her…

  Thinking. Evaluating. Adjusting…

  He continued to eyeball her over the well-done rib eye.

  That face. That side profile.

  He knew her from somewhere. He was sure of it, even if he couldn’t place her. Not yet, anyway.

  He shook his head.

  It would come to him.

  *

  He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten so well. God bless him, Donnie had also packed beer in the cooler. Beckard opened one and drained it in two gulps. It would have been a perfect meal if the meat hadn’t been so well done that it was practically burnt. Of course, Beckard had to take some blame, too. He had distracted Donnie while the kid was tending to the steaks.

  He leaned against the counter, resting on his elbows, and looked across the cabin at the three of them. Wade and Rachel were practically keeping each other upright as they sat on the floor, backs against the wall, which was both romantic and sad. Romantic, in that they clearly had true feelings for one another; sad, in that it wasn’t going to do them a bit of good.

  Allie had managed to pull herself into a sitting position. She was still looking around the room with calculating eyes, trying not to make it too obvious.

  And her face. There was something about her face…

  “I know you,” he said across the room to her.

  She looked over at him, strands of blonde hair falling over her face.

  “I know you,” he repeated. “I know your face. Allie?” he said, testing the sound of her name against his lips. He shook his head. “I don’t know the name, but I know your face. I never forget a face.” He let out a loud burp, then grinned. “Pardon me.”

  He got up and walked around the counter, stepping over Donnie’s body a second time, careful to avoid the blood. He left the shotgun behind and crossed over to her with just the beer in one hand. Maybe the alcohol was making him a little cocky, but he’d never felt so in control in his life. He was like a phoenix risen from the ashes. Shotgun ashes. From almost dead to almost winning. Pretty much winning, actually.

  He crouched in front of Allie and stared at her face again. Really, really stared this time, from only a few inches away.

  He leaned to one side, then the other. Even stood back up to get another angle before crouching again.

  She looked back at him the entire time, as if daring him to do something.

  He finally pulled back a bit. “I’ve seen you before.”

  He called up the memories, sifting through the faces of all the women from his past. They were like a Rolodex, forever ingrained on his brain. Their names, the various blonde shades, their noses, and the colors of their eyes. The sound of their voices and the way they talked, the way they cried, the way they screamed…

  “Maybe not you,” he said. “But someone like you.” He looked back at the shotgun. “You came prepared.”

  Nearby, Wade was listening, but Beckard ignored him.

  “You wanted me to take you,” he continued, zeroing back in on Allie’s eyes. “You lured me in. Like a black w
idow. ‘Come into my web, said the spider to the fly.’ And I fell right into it, like a sucker.”

  He chuckled and took another sip of beer.

  “That means you have a grudge. You studied me, didn’t you? Not me, me. Oh, it’s obvious you had no idea who I was. Not my name or what I did for a living. I’m kind of proud of that, actually. It took a lot of effort, you know. A lot. But still, you knew the real me. My methods. My modus operandi. The man underneath the façade. You might have even known what I would do, how I would react, in certain situations. The PIT maneuver, for instance. No one’s ever managed to escape that. But you did. For two solid miles. You completely threw me off my game with that one. Congratulations.”

  His legs were getting tired and his side was hurting a bit, so he sat down Indian style in front of her. He placed the beer between them before returning his attention to her.

  She continued to watch him back, silently. Not that she had a choice with the duct tape over her mouth. He thought about removing it, but didn’t. She’d just lie or throw some obscenities at him.

  “I killed someone close to you, didn’t I?” he asked. “Was it a friend? A sister? That’s what this is. Revenge.”

  He saw it—movement in her eyes.

  It was small. A tiny flicker, really.

  He smiled.

  “It was a sister.”

  He leaned forward some more and once again ran through the Rolodex of all the faces in his head. This time, he used her face as a guide to look for someone else. There were the ones he took in the first three years, before he really knew what he was doing. The dozen or so since that the cops didn’t even know about because he had gotten smarter. So, so much smarter. He learned. He adapted. He grew as a killer.

  All those women. All those blonde hairs, those blue and green eyes, those long slender legs and perfect cheekbones…

  “Carmen,” he said.

  Another flicker across her face.

  Bingo.

  “Her name was Carmen,” he smiled. “Twenty. She was coming from New York during the holidays. She was all alone out here. I couldn’t have asked for an easier target. Heaven sent.”

  He expected to see her expression crumble with pain and misery now that he had discovered her secret. Instead, air expelled from her flaring nostrils and her entire body tightened up. He could see—even taste—her attempts to rein in her emotions, the runaway freight train of anger and fury that was flooding all of her senses right this very second.