CHAPTER SEVEN
THERE WAS A “Missing” sign near the ranger station. It had taken longer than she’d wanted to reach that remote station. The mountain road had been treacherous and twisting, and her ears had popped as they’d gone higher and higher up the narrow road. There had been trees all around the road—and a deep plunge to nowhere that waited just past the old guardrails that lined the path.
But now Macey stared at the rough, wooden sign, and her gaze trekked over the photos posted there. Men, women. Even a few teens...barely more than children. Their photos were tacked up along with notes from family members. People begging for information on those who’d vanished.
Seeing those photos made her heart race faster because after reviewing more of the files, she’d become certain Bowen was right. The victims all shared too many similarities. They formed a perfect victim profile. Many serials had a type. Scary, but true.
When dating, certain men preferred brunettes. Or redheads.
Some women always fell for the guy who was tall, dark and handsome.
And some killers...they had a preferred victim.
Her hand rose and pressed to one of the photos. It was of Glen Young, age twenty-one. His mother had left a note.
My Glen has been missing for a year. Please, please if you see him, get him to call his mother. I swear, I’m not mad any longer. I want him to come home.
A number was below the photo.
“Sad, aren’t they?”
Macey looked back and saw a park ranger staring at her. His hair was a dark blond, his eyes a pale blue. His hands were on his hips as he studied her. No, not her—the sign. “Had a supervisor once who thought we should remove that but—” he shrugged “—removing the board takes away the family’s hope, you know? Their loved ones went missing here, so they pray they can be found here, too.”
“You don’t sound like you have much faith in that happening.”
The ranger shook his head. “Never seen one of the missing walk out of the woods. You go off the trail, you get lost, and it’s only a matter of time before you run out of food. Before the cold gets you. Or the animals do.” His gaze raked over her. “You’re Agent Macey Night, right?”
Bowen approached behind the ranger. They were both of a similar height and build.
The ranger looked back over his shoulder at Bowen. His head inclined. “Your partner said you two had some questions. Wanted me to come out here so the tourists wouldn’t listen in.” He put his hands on his hips. “So I know that can’t be good.”
“Good has nothing to do with this,” Bowen murmured.
No, it didn’t.
“I’m Zack Douglas,” the ranger said. He offered Macey his hand.
Her fingers closed around his. “Thanks for taking the time to talk with us today.” When he released her hand, Macey pulled a list of the ten profiled missing men—and their photos—from her bag. “We’d like for you to look at these men. Look and see if you recognize any of them.”
He started thumbing through the photos. But then he looked back at her. “Course I recognize them... Most of these guys are on my board.”
The board behind her.
My board. “Did you talk to any of them? Learn where they were going? Did anything stand out in your mind about these individuals?”
“I think we have most of their permits on file,” Zack mused. When he saw her frown, he said, “If you’re going backcountry hiking, you have to make a reservation and get a permit. They’re required for all overnight stays. Most of the guys—once I found out they were missing—I pulled their permits. A few didn’t have them, but, like I said, most did.” He glanced back at the photos. “I can give you the permits, but not a lot of information is on them.”
Macey and Bowen shared a long look. “Those permits—did they outline where the hikers were going?”
“Yeah...and the shelters or campsites that the hikers were hoping to use.”
“That information would be extremely helpful.”
“People don’t get it.” Zack sighed as he put his hands on his hips and looked out at the woods that surrounded the ranger station. “It’s beautiful up here, God’s country, but it’s dangerous. Streams swell, bridges wash out, trees fall down...and the bears, it’s their home, you know? You have to respect nature. You have to be prepared for it. We tell hikers that they shouldn’t try the longer, more dangerous trails if they don’t have experience.” A sad smile twisted his lips. “Some people just don’t want to listen, you know?”
Her gaze slid back to the photos. “I know.”
“Always tell people...make sure you triple-check your route. And be at your campsite before dark. Hiking in the dark can be downright deadly.”
There were a few other things out there that could be deadly, too.
“Can you take us out on the trail that most of these missing men used?” Bowen asked. “Our research has already shown us that they generally set out on one particular path.”
Zack rubbed the back of his neck. “Setting out on the path is one thing...staying on the path is another. A few steps off, and then you’re lost. You don’t come back.”
No, you didn’t.
Especially not when you had help.
“Let me make sure my post is covered, and then I’ll take you all out.” He turned and headed back to the small brown building. “I’ll pull up the permits on the computer.”
Macey glanced up at the sky. It was just after one p.m. If the hikers had gone out too far, they wouldn’t be able to follow their full path. “There’s no way a search team can check the entire national park.”
“No, but we’re not hitting the whole park.” Bowen had moved to her side. The ranger was a few feet away. “If these men were all heading for the same campsite—or hell, even if just five or six of them had the same campsite in mind—that’s where we need to go. I want to check it out. And I want to see if any particular visitor has gone to that site again and again over the years.”
A visitor who could just be their killer.
* * *
CURTIS TWISTED HIS HANDS. Was he still bleeding? The rope had cut into his wrists, slicing deep into his skin. He didn’t think that he could feel his fingertips any longer.
He rasped out a breath. He was so fucking thirsty. So—
The door opened, a long slow crack of sound. His head lifted up and he blinked against the light that spilled through that doorway. The light fell around the man there—the man who wore the black ski mask.
“Didn’t think I’d just leave you, did you?”
Actually, that was exactly what he’d thought. That the bastard had left him to rot.
Laughter rolled as the man stepped into the old cabin. And then he was right in front of Curtis. He lifted a water bottle and held it gripped in his gloved hands. The guy always wore gloves. Always had himself covered.
Maybe...maybe that means he will let me go. Since I haven’t seen his face, maybe he’s planning to let me go. He knew hope always came to the desperate.
The guy slowly untwisted the bottle cap and then he held that water near Curtis’s mouth. Curtis twisted and jerked his head forward, but he couldn’t get to the water. The son of a bitch held it just out of his reach.
“You want it badly, don’t you? So badly. I bet you’d do just about anything...for a drink.”
Wild, frantic, Curtis could only nod.
That taunting laughter came again. “You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.”
What was that supposed to even mean?
But the water was pouring down, finally hitting his mouth because the guy in the ski mask had brought it closer to Curtis. He opened his mouth wide, greedily gulping the water down his parched throat. Curtis took and he took and the water hit his face and his shirt and he hated the waste. I want it all.
“Even brought a special treat for you.” The guy tossed aside the now-empty bottle. It bounced on the floor. His captor pulled out a sandwich bag. A fucking sandwich! “Have some...”
Curtis tore into the sandwich. His tongue was swollen, though, and his throat was still dry even though he’d had the water, so he almost choked on the bread.
“That’s right, eat up. Because I’ve got big plans for you.”
Curtis had big plans, too. He was going to escape. He was going to get to his pack. And he was going to drive his knife right into the bastard’s throat.
* * *
“THIS ISN’T A COME-ON...”
Bowen glanced up at Zack’s words and saw that the ranger was staring at Macey. Staring a bit too hard at her.
“But I swear,” Zack continued as he moved around the counter at the ranger station and slid to Macey’s side, “I’ve seen your face before.” His head tilted as he studied her. “Those eyes of yours are pretty unforgettable.”
Bowen narrowed his own eyes.
“Have we met?” Zack pressed.
Macey’s gaze jerked toward Bowen.
He wondered what his expression looked like. We’re on a murder investigation, and that’s totally a fucking come-on. The ranger needed to get his shit in check.
“We haven’t met,” Macey replied. “Sorry.” Her gaze slid back to his computer. “Those files almost ready?”
“Printing now.” But Bowen saw that the guy didn’t take his stare off Macey. “I know I’ve seen you before. Those eyes...they are really something.” Then he laughed, seeming to catch himself. “Though I’m guessing you get told that all the time.”
Once more, her gaze darted to Bowen. This time, Zack followed her stare.
Bowen crossed his arms over his chest. Move away from her, asshole. Move. Away.
But the ranger didn’t get the hint. He turned back to Macey. “Are you sure—” he began.
“A few years ago, my face was splashed in every paper along the East Coast. I was the only victim to get away from Daniel Haddox. He came after me—” her voice was flat, almost brittle “—because of my ‘unforgettable’ eyes.”
Fury pumped through Bowen’s body.
“That’s probably where you saw me,” she added, voice softer. “Because, no, as I said, I don’t think we’ve met before.”
He didn’t back away. Didn’t apologize. If anything, his stare seemed to warm as he focused on her. Bowen moved closer to them. Back away, Ranger. Back away.
“I wish we had met before.” Zack’s voice was gentle. Dick. “And I wish we were meeting under better circumstances now. Because I think you’re a very interesting woman, Special Agent Night.”
“You like women who escape from killers?” Her words were crisp.
“I like strong women. Smart woman. I think you’re both.”
The printer beeped. Ranger Jackass finally turned away from her and snagged the papers that had just pushed from the machine. Then the guy was leaning over the counter as he pored over them. Looking for similarities, and Macey crowded in closer.
Bowen didn’t like it when Macey got close to the guy.
Shit. It’s getting personal. Hands-off. No strings.
She looked back at Bowen.
He wanted his hands on her.
“Five of them were planning a brief stop at Rainbow Falls.” Zack glanced up at Bowen. “But you knew that, right?”
Bowen inclined his head.
“After Rainbow Falls, the trail keeps going up to the summit of Mount LeConte. That’s where they were supposed to be headed. The end goal.” He thumbed through the pages. “Actually, now that I think about it...there was a guy here, maybe three, four days ago? He was going on the same path.” Zack moved away and tapped on his computer again. “Right. Curtis Zale. He was heading up there, too.”
“We need to get there,” Bowen said. He wanted to see that trail.
But Zack glanced toward the windows. “Yeah, I don’t think you quite get how things work out here.” He rolled one shoulder. “Here’s a little rule to help you... In the Smokies, it takes hikers an hour to make it about 1.5 miles. Rainbow Falls? It’s 2.7 miles away—that’s one way. So say two hours to get there. That’s just to the falls. If you want to reach the summit, you’re looking at nightfall by the time you get to the top of Mount LeConte. And you two—you aren’t prepared for that kind of hike. Not today.” He drummed his fingers on the countertop. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow, at first light? I can take you out then. We’ll have enough time to get to the summit.”
“We have gear in the truck,” Bowen told him. “And no, this isn’t my first hike. Macey and I will head up to Rainbow Falls. We need to see that scene today.” And they had just enough time to do it before the sun set, barely. They’d go up the full summit tomorrow, with the ranger. “The trailheads are marked, we’ll get there.”
Because every moment counted. They had a killer out there—two killers, if he wasn’t mistaken. The bastard who’d been hunting hikers and the perp who’d made death into a game.
“I’ll guide you,” Zack said quickly, “just like I promised.”
“Then let’s get moving.” Because he didn’t want to waste any more daylight. Time was precious, and he had the sinking feeling that he was already far behind in this deadly race.
* * *
THE TRAIL WAS QUIET. Almost too quiet. Or at least, it seemed that way to Macey. Maybe she’d just spent too long in DC—too long surrounded by the sights and the sounds of the city. But the forest put her on edge. Her steps didn’t falter as she hiked. She and Bowen had both changed before heading to the ranger’s station. She wore jeans and a loose coat. Hiking boots. And she had her gun.
Never leave home without it. Especially not after last night.
“We’re turning up here,” Zack called out. “There’s a log foot bridge that crosses over the creek. Once we get past that, it won’t be much farther until we hit the falls.”
He’d kept up a brisk, unrelenting pace, but Macey and Bowen had both followed him easily. She glanced around, trying to peer through the trees. So many trees. So many shadows. It was all too easy to imagine a lone hiker going through those woods, unaware that he was being watched.
Hunted.
Because predators didn’t always walk on four legs. The most dangerous predator...he walked on two.
They passed another sign on the trail. “During times of high stream flow, Rainbow Falls Trail is impassable. Use Bullhead Trail.”
Macey stilled, her foot near one of the large boulders that often seemed to line the side of the trail. “Is the Bullhead Trail as well traveled?”
“Nah, not at all,” Zack told her. “Folks just use it when they have to do it—they’re going for the falls, you know? They don’t want to miss the view. Plenty more people use the Rainbow Falls Trail.”
So if their killer was looking to isolate prey, he would be less likely to use the Rainbow Falls path...and more likely to focus on the Bullhead Trail. Because he has a better chance of not being spotted by anyone else. “Maybe the missing hikers were diverted.” She glanced around, trying to see through the trees. Thin trees, thick trees, twisting trees that seemed to wind into the sky. “Maybe they had to go off their original path because the stream was too high.” She could hear the flow of the water.
Maybe it hadn’t even been the stream that had caused them to divert, though. Perhaps they changed routes because they had some help. The kind of help that had gotten them killed?
Zack glanced back at her. “Even though it’s not as well used, the Bullhead Trail is easily marked, too. Even amateur hikers should have known to stick to it.”
“But what if it was late...darkness falls fast here. They could have turned toward the Bullhead Trail and gotten lost.” Excitement pulsed through her. “Show us the way, okay?” Because every instinct that she had was screaming at her.
Zack cast a quick glance toward Bowen.
“Show us the way,” Bowen said.
So they diverted paths. They went deeper into the woods and then...she saw a cabin’s roof, barely visible over the trees. If it hadn’t been so late into the fall season, she probably wouldn’t have seen it. But many of the leaves had fallen off the trees, and in the distance, she could just make out the slanting roof of a cabin. “Bowen!” Her voice sharpened. They were at least a mile from the cabin, maybe two. It was far away, but the thinning trees had enabled her to see it as soon as they shifted to the other trail.
He immediately followed her gaze. “Who owns that cabin?”
“No one,” Zack answered slowly. “It’s an old abandoned place. No one is in there.” He paced closer to Macey and pointed at the area. “Every now and then, hikers will take shelter there for a night or so. It’s not an official campground because the place really should be torn down. The wood is rotting and the forest is trying to reclaim the cabin, but...we had cutbacks so we haven’t gotten around to demolishing it.” He gave a low whistle. “But we should get going. That cabin is—”
“It’s in our killer’s operation zone.” Tension had tightened Macey’s body. “It’s a prime spot for him to set up his base.” She pinned Zack with a hard glance. “Are there any other cabins in a two-mile radius of this location?”
“No, just that one.” He rubbed his chin. “But I mean, you can’t seriously think—what? That some guy has been killing in that place?” He laughed, but it was a nervous sound.
“I want to see that cabin.” She glanced up at the sky. They had time to make it.
“This is what happens.” Now Zack sounded sad. “There is no trail that leads to that place, not anymore. People get urges to see things. They go off the trail. They get lost when night sneaks up on them.”
She braced her legs. Every instinct she possessed screamed for her to get to that cabin. It’s in his kill zone. We could have found his safe place. A place where he might have left evidence behind. “Today we’re searching the cabin.” Tomorrow, at first light, they could start out and head up to Mount LeConte.
“Have it your way.” Zack pulled out his radio and made a quick call in to base. “Let’s go.”
* * *
THE BASTARD IN the ski mask had left him again.
Curtis could feel his stomach cramping. The food was sitting heavy on him... Food. The guy had given him food, so that had to mean he wasn’t planning on killing Curtis. It had to mean that. So he just had to stay alive longer. Just had to escape...
His gaze strayed to his pack. Still fucking out of reach. But...
I feel stronger.
He began to tug on his ropes once more. And maybe it was his imagination, but Curtis could have sworn the ropes were starting to feel...looser.
I’m going to get out of here. Then I’ll find you, you fucking bastard. I will hurt you so badly. I will make you pay.
As soon as he was free. That prick in the mask—He’d picked the wrong man to mess with. Curtis Zale wasn’t anyone’s bitch. He didn’t give up easily and he wouldn’t die easily.
He had too many plans.
There were too many things that he wanted to do with his life.
And dying isn’t one of those things.
* * *
“TOLD YOU,” ZACK said as they drew to a stop right outside the cabin. They’d hiked for an hour and the sun had slid across the sky. “It’s abandoned.”
The place sure looked that way. The windows were boarded up, vines snaked up the sides of the cabin and the slanting walls looked as if they might fall in any moment.
“Can’t usually even see this place, not in the spring and summer. The trees cover it too completely. Most folks will pass by and never even know it’s here.” Zack strode toward the door. “Could have been some historic spot, but there isn’t any funding to repair it. No funding to repair it, and no funding to destroy it. So the place sits.”
Macey cast a quick glance at Bowen. He was near the front door, just steps away from Zack.
“Mind stepping aside, Ranger?” Bowen drawled. He’d dropped his pack. Macey did the same.
Zack blinked, but then he stepped aside.
“Thanks.” Bowen reached for the door. There wasn’t a handle there, no lock, nothing. He shoved against the door and it opened with a long creak of sound.
“See?” Zack announced. “I told you, the place is completely empty—”
“Help me!” A desperate, choked cry. One that had come from inside the cabin. Instantly, Bowen was springing forward, and Macey was right on his heels. She grabbed her gun from her holster even as she shoved Zack out of her way. She bounded into the cabin after Bowen, her gaze sweeping the scene for signs of a threat but...
No threat. Just a victim. She saw the man tied to the chair, heaving and struggling desperately. As she watched him, his mouth opened and closed, but only a hoarse whisper escaped when she knew he was trying to scream. A backpack lay on the floor a few feet from him.
“Help...” the bound man managed again. Macey rushed to his side. Bowen was checking the rest of the small cabin, and she knew he was searching for the perp.
“It’s okay,” Macey told the man tied to the chair. “I’m FBI Agent Macey Night. You’re going to be all right.”
“Promise?” A desperate rasp.
She grabbed for the ropes around his wrists. The ropes were soaked with blood and she saw the deep cuts on his wrists where the ropes had sliced into him as he struggled to break free.
“Oh, shit!” Zack cried out. He stood just inside the doorway.
“Get back!” Macey yelled. This was a crime scene. They couldn’t afford to contaminate any evidence, and for all she knew, the killer could be hiding in that ramshackle cabin.
Or he could be outside, watching. Just like before, at the other cabin.
Zack started to retreat.
“Stay near the door!” Macey shouted. “Get cover, okay?”
“Cover?” Then Zack seemed to understand because he looked over his shoulder and immediately crouched.
She yanked at the ropes. Damn it, they weren’t coming loose.
“Clear,” Bowen barked as he came back into the narrow room. “No one else is in the cabin.” He hurried to her side and he pulled a knife from his boot. He sliced right through the ropes at the guy’s wrists, and the man in the chair let out a weak cry.
“Circulation has to come back,” Macey said, understanding exactly what he was going through. “It’s going to be painful at first, but it won’t last.”
Bowen slid to the front of the chair. He started to cut through the ropes that bound the man’s ankles, then he paused.
“Bowen?” Macey prompted.
He looked up at her. “The chair was nailed to the floor. And there are... Hell, one of the nails...no, two of them—”
“Are in me,” the guy rasped. “In...my feet... Help...”
Oh, God. “Get him loose,” Macey demanded. Then she was there, helping Bowen, working hard to free the man who’d been bound. And nailed to the floor.
“He took me.” The man’s voice was a broken whisper. “I—I was hiking... He took me. H-hit me... Why did he h-hit me? Wh-why did he hurt me?”
She looked up at him just as Bowen pried the guy loose. The ropes were cut and the nails... They’re still in him, but he can move. They’d pried the long nails from the wooden floor. “We’re going to get you medical attention.” She turned her head toward Bowen. She moved closer to him, and her lips feathered over his ear as she warned, “The killer could be watching, just like last time. We need to get backup out here and we need to search the woods.”
“You read my fucking mind, Mace.” He pulled out his phone, but then swore. “No service.”
“Go outside.” She nodded toward a watchful—and still crouching—Zack. “Use his radio or see if you can get service. I’ll stay with the victim.”
Bowen’s gaze swung back to the man in the chair. The man who was clutching his stomach and crying. “How long were you here?” Bowen demanded.
The guy shuddered. His lips were raw and blistered. His face too pale. His pupils were pinpricks and sweat covered his body. “Wh-what day is...it?”
“Thursday.”
The man’s eyes closed. “Left...for my hike...on Sunday.”
He’d been trapped here for that long? Macey curled her hand around Bowen’s. “Get him help. I’ll stay with him.” She was the doctor. She could check his vitals, make sure he didn’t do anything to hurt himself.
“S-starved...me... No f-food... B-barely any...w-water...”
“Go,” Macey said to Bowen.
He slipped away. She rose, moving to press her fingers to the man’s throat. His pulse was thready. “What’s your name?”
“C-Curtis...”
That was the name Zack had given them...the guy who fit their profile. The man who’d gone out on the trail that the killer loved.
She put her gun on the floor, making sure to keep it within easy access, and she knelt in front of him. “Did you see the man who did this to you?”
Curtis shook his head, but then his bloody hand lifted and he pointed to his bag. “F-food...in there. Water...”
When she’d run into the cabin, she’d left her pack outside. She had extra water—water that this man desperately needed.
Before she could speak, Curtis lurched up. He stumbled toward his pack even as she grabbed for him. “Curtis, no, you’ll hurt yourself!” The nails were still in his feet, near his ankles, and his blood dripped onto the floor.
“Water...” Such a desperate plea.
She helped him toward the backpack. He fell, sinking to his knees, and then he was reaching his trembling hands inside the bag. She saw the water bottle, several of them, and his shaking fingers hovered over those bottles.
But then his hand shoved deeper into the bag and when his fingers came up, he was clutching a knife. A knife that he drove straight at her.