Primal Obsession (6 page)

SEVEN

Northern Maine woods

When Annie skidded into camp, the others were relaxing around the campfire. She stopped to let her heart recover.

Pungent wood smoke swirled up from dancing red and yellow flames. Carl tossed a handful of empty peanut shells into the fire, shells from the giant bag open on the picnic table.

“Help yourself. Supper will take awhile.” Sam snagged a handful of nuts, crunched a shell, and popped the nut into his mouth. “Anybody see my Buck knife? I left it on the table.”

“It was there a few minutes ago,” Nora said. “Maybe you put it in your tent.”

When Annie saw that Ray had two pots of water boiling, she said, “Give me a minute to change and I’ll pitch in.”

In her tent, she shimmied into jeans, pink turtleneck, and black sweatshirt. She tugged on socks and sneakers before crawling out with insect repellant and a flashlight.

In spite of advice from all quarters, she and Ray managed to prepare the food. When the meal was ready, the aromas of melting butter and shellfish lured everyone to the table.

Including Frank. Tin plate in hand, he slouched toward the steaming pots.

Sam headed him off. “Remember the deal, Frank.”

Stubbornness defined the taut line of the boy’s mouth. “I put up my dumb tent.”

“Nice work too. Erecting your tent’s for your comfort. Once you’ve done your shared chore, you can eat.”

Frank turned to his mom, standing beside the table.

Crimson flagged her cheeks, and she drew a deep breath. “You were supposed to help me gather firewood. Remember?”

Annie gave Nora credit for sticking to her guns. The others had helped her with the wood, so they had plenty, but Frank didn’t need to know that.

The teen stomped off, spitting anger that singed the pines. Words Annie hadn’t even heard on New York streets.

“Hang in there,” she mouthed to the boy’s mother.

During the confrontation, the adults had watched in tense silence while going through the motions of filling their plates. Now that it was over they sat down to eat.

Murmurs of appreciation stifled conversation. Annie counted the potential damage on her plate. At this rate, no amount of paddling could combat the calorie intake. So much for the ten pounds she was going to lose. Oh, well. She dipped succulent claw meat in melted butter.

After the clean-up, Annie, Nora and Ray sat on the picnic bench facing the fire. Sam and Carl arranged upturned logs by the fire ring. The crisp evening air, birdcall, and the wood smoke lent the illusion of autumn.

Sam grinned as his gaze browsed her body.

She rolled her eyes. Would he ever give up?

He’d changed into warmer clothing, as had everyone. Except for his Sox cap and rakish air, he looked every inch the woods guide in his windbreaker and green trousers tucked into laced woods boots. He was describing the rest of the expedition route to the group.

She cast a glance over her shoulder toward the rebel’s tent. Pretty quiet in there, not even a lantern glowing. Poor kid, he was probably waiting for someone to cave and feed him. Forcing his hand seemed the right thing. Sam’s tactic was clever, admirable. He’d make a good father.

Not that she cared. He was a jock, they had nothing in common and she wasn’t interested.

Footsteps crunched the sandy soil, and Frank appeared. Not sulking in the tent after all. He dumped a load of arm-sized logs beside the fire ring. “There. You satisfied?”

Sam smiled warmly. “Nice load of wood, Frank.”

“So’d you leave me anything?” Distrust narrowed his eyes. His spiked hair smeared across his head like finger-paints.

When Sam nodded, his mom pointed to a pan at the edge of the fire. “I saved you a lobster and some corn.”

“Sorry, kid,” Carl said, covering a grin, “but we ate the rest of the brownies.”

“I hate brownies.” Frank carried his booty to the table and snorkled in his food fast enough to suck up the shells.

“Now’s as good a time as any to break a little ice.” Sam jabbed a stick into the crackling blaze. “I’d like each person to tell why you came and what you hope to get out of the trip.”

“I’ll start, if y’all don’t mind.” In the firelight, Carl’s florid face glowed like a sunset. “I wanted to get away from email and cell phones. And I remembered canoeing with my grandpap when I was a tadpole.”

“What about you, Ray?” Sam smiled encouragement to the slighter man.

Annie noticed that behind her Frank had finished eating and was tossing corn toward the firelight’s edge. A chipmunk hunkered in the shadows. It gobbled each kernel that fell close. Annie smiled. A good thing this hurt and confused boy could behave like a normal kid.

“I came because I need to experience something real, something I can feel and live.” His voice soft, diffident, Ray stared at the fire, apparently not willing to face anyone. Tension hunched his shoulders, crimped his prominent brow.

“What do you mean,
real
?” Sam said.

At the far end of the bench, Ray threaded fingers through his pale hair. “I design software for a medical technology company in Boston. On weekends I create game software freelance for different toy companies.”

Frank stopped feeding the chipmunk. Computer geeks were probably his heroes.

“From blood-test analysis software to the Mutant Killer Slugs from Saturn game, my life is virtual,” Ray continued. “It’s all I have. Out here in the wilderness, this is real.”

“Slugs from Saturn.” Awe filled Frank’s voice. “The one with the exploding orbs?”

“Nah, the orbs are in Moon Moles. But I did both.”

“Eipc cool.” Frank returned to his meal.

Silence held them for a minute. How sad for Ray to feel that he existed only via electronic wizardry. How brave to seek reality in primitive nature, as alien an environment for him as it was for her.

“That’s very commendable.” Nora patted the man’s arm. “You dared to enrich your life, to grow. Not everyone would have had the courage.”

As the others murmured in agreement, Ray slanted her a smile of gratitude.

“I’ll go next,” Nora said. “I’m here to regain some peace of mind and to reconnect with my son. The divorce has been—”

“Holy crap, Mom! Do you have to tell the whole world?” Knocking his plate to the ground, Frank bolted to his tent.

Nora started to apologize. Tears welled in her eyes.

Annie said, “It’s okay, Nora. I think we all see why this trip’s important to you.”

“The kid needs to build his confidence again,” Sam offered. “He’ll get a chance tomorrow during the bushwhack.”

His whiskey-gold gaze homed in on Annie. “That leaves you.”

She wanted to hear more about the so-called bushwhack, but decided knowing might interfere with a good night’s sleep. Something she sorely needed.

“I’m a journalist in Portland and no outdoorswoman. My friend Emma and I were going to do this trip together. But Emma... died.” Murmurs of sympathy before she continued. “She would’ve wanted me to come, and I needed to get away. So here I am.”

“Seems like everyone has reasons for getting away from it all.” Sam stirred the fire and tossed in another log. “I wouldn’t think covering automobile crashes and Portland City Hall scandals would be that tough on a reporter.”

He was probing again. Nice try. “I was... involved in a challenging story that gave me sleepless nights. No biggie.”

A thoughtful expression pursed Nora’s mouth. “You write for the
Messenger
?”

Annie’s stomach knotted. She nodded. She so did
not
want to get into this.

“You the reporter who broke the story on the Hunter?”

Annie pressed clasped hands to her stomach. “I cover a lot of different news.”

“What hunter?” Carl asked.

“The Hunter, the murderer.” Ray leaned forward to eye Annie eagerly. “I read about it in this morning’s paper.”

“
That
Hunter?” Sam asked. “You’re the reporter who put the murders together?”

“I don’t—”

Carl stood and waved his arms. “If there’s some damned crazed killer on the loose, what are we doing here?” He glared at Sam. “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

“Take it easy, man.” Sam held up his hands. “That killer’s not within fifty miles of here.”

“More like a hundred miles.” Ray’s head bobbed up and down with excitement.

“Just what the hell did this so-called Hunter do?” Carl wasn’t tall, but the waning fire backlighting his stout form made him an imposing figure.

“Carl.”

Sam’s soothing voice seemed to defuse the man’s anxiety. As if only then realizing his intimidating stance, the contractor relaxed his shoulders. He sat. “Sorry, y’all. Reckon I’m used to being the boss.”

Sam saw reluctance in Annie’s down-turned mouth. So that’s the reason she avoided the fine points of why she left town. Delving into the details of those murders would give anyone nightmares. “I see discussing it is hard on you. Why don’t we move on?”

“No, it’s all right, Sam.” She lifted her chin. “I’ll explain if everyone will agree not to bombard me with questions the rest of the trip.”

Sam waited for everyone to nod. “Go ahead, then.”

She lowered her hands to her lap, but kept her fingers laced as if locking in emotion. “During the past three years, an unknown assailant has murdered young women in New Hampshire and Maine. As of today’s newspaper, there are five. I uncovered the connection among them and broke the story, but the police already suspected a link.”

“Why is he called the Hunter?” Ray asked. “I didn’t see that in this morning’s story.”

“That’s the horror of it.”

Her haunted gaze chilled Sam. This wasn’t the way this ice-breaker was supposed to go. Restless, he rose and added a log to the fire. The killer wasn’t just a story to her. He’d bet his cleats on it.

“Have you ever read a story by Richard Connor called ‘The Most Dangerous Game’?” Annie continued.

“My seventh grade students read it,” Nora said. “A man falls off a ship and swims to an island. The owner, a general, is tired of hunting animals. So he causes shipwrecks. When sailors get to shore, he tracks and kills them.
Oh
.”

“Bingo. It’s a play on words. You can take it one way, that the most dangerous endeavor is hunting humans. Or that the most dangerous
game
, meaning
prey
, is man.” Annie gave a shiver, and Sam doubted it was from the cool night air. “In this case, woman. The Hunter strips them naked except for shoes and dumps them somewhere in the woods. He forces them to run so he can hunt them.”

“Those poor women must hope they can escape,” Nora said.

“That’s insane.” Carl threw up his hands. “With a gun?”

“It’s odd,” Annie said. “He started with a gun, a powerful hunting rifle, according to police reports. The last three victims were stabbed with a big hunting knife like—"

“Enough.” Sam pushed to his feet. “Any more will give us all nightmares.”

The campers dispersed to prepare for bed, and he doused the fire. When Annie returned from the “lounge,” as they’d dubbed the dug latrine, he followed her to her tent.

“Sorry if we boxed you in,” he said. “I get why you didn’t want to talk about the murders.”

“It wasn’t bad. I omitted the more gruesome details.” Her lips formed a crooked grin.

“This is no ordinary story for you. You have a personal stake. Is it your friend Emma?” Her dedication to this cause implied unexpected depths.

She lifted her gaze toward the stars. “She was one of the victims. Emma was younger than me, a senior at Colby College, but she and her mom Rissa were my best friends. After a weekend at home, Rissa took Emma to the bus to return to college.

“We never saw Emma again. That was October. In April, loggers found her body near Rangeley Lake. Tonight I scattered some of her ashes in Gomagash Lake.” Her voice broke.

He started to wrap his arms around her, to offer sympathy, but she’d misconstrue his intentions. Hell, no, she wouldn’t, but he’d keep his hands off anyway. “So probing her death was what led to uncovering the other murders?”

“Yes, there was something too ritualistic about the way he left her body. I couldn’t leave the story alone.” She passed a hand over her eyes. “Ironic, isn’t it? That perverted bastard commits his vicious crimes in the woods, and here I am smack in his playground.”

“He’s not here. You’ll be all right. My tent’s next to yours.” He winked at her and slid a hand around the back of her neck. Her skin was soft, smooth. Tempting. “If you have nightmares, call me. I’ll be over before you can yell twice.”

That coaxed a wider smile out of her. “That
would
be a nightmare.” She sidestepped his caress, unzipped her tent and crawled in. “Good night.”

He frowned at the star-filled sky.

“...stabbed with a big hunting knife like—"