The Trophy Hunter (20 page)

“Yeah,” replied the woman-child in a girlish
voice.

“You have shoes on,” blurted Jess.

“What?”

“Nothing. Scratch that. I’m Jess Edwards.
Darren Rogart’s a friend of mine. He’s asked me to look into the
Patty Strickland thing. Thought it might be a good idea to chat
with your husband about some corroborating information.”

Woman-child looked confused. “What Patty
Strickland thing?”

“Her disappearance.”

“Ow!” Jess watched in amazement as the
toddler took a bite out of Mama’s leg. “Barclay, that’s not nice!”
Mama-Woman-Child detached the kid and set him/her on a wooden
animal toy that looked like a cross between a giraffe and a
hippo.

Must be a boy child … but not
necessarily.

“Trisha─that’s what she goes by now─hasn’t
disappeared. She’s at Darren’s.”

“Now she is. But she was missing.”

“Huh?”

Two for two. If this is the result of
child-bearing, let Diana count herself blessed.

“Could I talk with your husband?”

“He’s down at This Geek For Hire,” she said.
“His store, only computer place in town.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Cutler.”

“Don’t you want the address?”

“I’ll find it.”

This Geek For Hire?
The GPS took her
to it. Seven minutes. How far could it be in a town of two
hundred?

As Jess pulled into the small parking lot,
she saw a man hanging a “Closed” sign behind the front door glass.
Young, he moved like he thought the crown jewels reposed in his
drawers.

“Wait up,” called Jess. She got out of the
car and walked briskly toward Shane Cutler. It couldn’t be anybody
else. White-blond hair, tan skinned, hard-bodied, his sly blue eyes
met hers as she approached the building.

A macho geek? Looks like an oxymoron to
me.

“Hi, Jess,” he drawled. “My wife just
called.”

Of course she did.

He didn’t look upset as the lower lids of his
eyes crinkled in a half-assed smile that held a certain reptilian
charm.

To get eye-to-eye with Cutler, Jess had to
look down a couple of inches. But still, it was a damn sight more
believable that he was a thirteen-year-old’s dream man, as compared
to the likes of an old geezer like Larry Strickland. It gave Jess
the shivers just to think about that scenario.

“I’m just finishing up some loose ends for
Darren,” began Jess. “Isn’t it great that Patty’s been found?”

“If you say so.” Cutler’s benign grin was
replaced by an insolent smirk.

He knows I’m lying. What the hell. I’m
here.
“You one of the elite with keys to Larry’s cabin?”

“I see you’ve been talkin’ to the grievin’
widow. You really buy into her story ‘bout the keys?”

“Why would she lie about it?”

Shane locked the shop door behind him, then
shrugged. “Get the heat off herself. She’s had the hots for Darren
for years. Much easier if her old man bought it. Truth is, Darren
does a lot better than her.” He looked hard at Jess. “Usually.”

Jess had the feeling that more calls than the
one from Shane’s wife had been made to him within the past hour or
so. She stepped back a few paces, looked Shane up and down.
T-shirt, tight jeans. He wasn’t even shivering. A concealed weapon
was unlikely, unless it was the bulge behind his fly.

“I understand your wife’s not a Lori Rogart
fan. How do you and Lori get along?”
Way to get killed,
Jess.

But she had the Glock and Shane only had…what
he had. She doubted it was that impressive.

A blink turned his blue eyes to ice. “We run
your kind off the streets at sundown, bitch.”

Jess shrugged off the slur. “Since Larry’s
dead, what difference does it make? Can’t hurt anyone to let him
take the fall, can it?” She knew her words hadn’t distracted him
when she felt his anger accelerate even before his stance
shifted.

“Stay away from my wife.” His wrist snaked
out and snared her right arm. With her left, she chopped him in the
neck and dropped him to his knees, then twisted his arm behind him
until he yelped in pain.

“Don’t mess with me, Cutler.” She flung him
away from her like a hamburger wrapper.

“I’ll get your black ass for this.” His words
surged up out of his pain, but he didn’t follow as Jess turned her
back on him and strode toward her car. She purposely projected
disdain in each unhurried step, but her ears were keenly tuned to
pick up any sign of movement behind her.

As she drove away from the building, Jess saw
it parked on a side street. A silver Dodge Ram. She slowed down and
zapped the license plate with her cell camera. HUNTER 3.

Chapter 34

“What’d that black bitch want with a picture
of George’s truck?” Shane’s voice over the phone sounds worried. “I
only borrowed it since mine’s in the shop.”

“Beats me,” the Hunter replies, assuming his
good-ole-boy façade, suppressing the urge to reach through the
phone and strangle the stupid redneck for disparaging his perfect
African specimen. “I’d say don’t sweat it. George’s truck, George’s
problem.” He lounges casually, darkly clad against a white gazebo
in the park across from the black’s condo, hoping for a quick peek
at her. Inside, he’s tightly strung. He wants her, but he knows
tonight’s not the night.

“Easy for you to say,” continues Shane.
“She’s not nosin’ around your place. She asked me how Lori and I
got along. Man, I don’t need a second statutory rape charge. You
said we were cool about Lori.”

“We are. No worries there,” replies the
Hunter. Only half his attention is on the phone call. The other
half is wondering where the black is. It’s been dark over an hour.
She should be home by now. He doubts that she’s gone to the gym
after the day she’s put in.

“What if your phone is bugged?” Shane
asks.

“Is there a problem with yours?” the Hunter
counters with his own question. In the background he can hear the
voices of Shane’s wife and kid. Quarrelsome and whiny. If they were
his, he’d strangle the bitch, incinerate her and feed that ugly kid
to the coyotes.

“No,” says Shane abruptly. At least he shows
the sense not to elaborate on his certainty. If a techy like Shane
was unaware of bugs on his own turf, well that would make him worse
than useless.

The Hunter has no worries about this
particular call being traced. He’s using one of those disposable
cells with no registration requirements. “Did you get the stuff I
need from George?” he asks. He’s almost out of Ketamine. It works
so much better than a bullet. George keeps a supply on hand at his
veterinary clinic. But it’s much better if Shane gets it for him
from his stepfather, however he can. If the Hunter loses this
connection, he can always get what he needs on line, but this way
he won’t leave a trail when he’s finished with Shane.

“Uh-huh.”

A vagueness in Shane’s voice bothers the
Hunter. “Did you steal it or did he give it to you?”

“What do you think? How many neighbors with
barking dogs can a guy have? George was cool with one. He did ask
why I didn’t just shoot it.” The background voices are silent
now.

“What did you say to that?” he asks, turning
away from the street to avoid the headlights of an approaching
car.

“I told him it was keeping Missy and Barclay
awake and the neighbor wouldn’t cooperate. Since the mutt wasn’t on
my property, I couldn’t shoot it. I had to be creative. He seemed
to like that.”

“What did you tell him this time?” The car
passes without slowing down. Not her.

“I got to thinkin’ if he ever did an
inventory, he’d see there was a whole lot more gone than needed for
one dog. Even a big one. So I fixed that problem.”

“Good for you. How’d you do that?” He pulls
the baseball cap lower as a couple of bicyclers roll past.

“Let’s just say George had a burglary at his
clinic the other night.”

“Did he report it?”

Shane laughs. “Turned out good for George,
too. You know he’s got other off-the-books customers. Paying ones.
Let’s just say the burglary solves his accountability problems.” He
laughs again. “Yeah, he made a report.”

The Hunter hadn’t known about George’s
sideline. “Since you’re able to laugh about it, I take it there’s
no chance of it coming back to bite you.”

“You think I’m stupid, or what?”

The Hunter leaves that one dangling. Shane
doesn’t push him. In the background he hears Missy Cutler. “Honey,
dinner.”

“In a minute,” Shane yells back.

After they arrange for delivery of the
Ketamine, the Hunter closes the cell phone, feeling a twinge of
annoyance. He derives no pleasure from killing males. Shane’s an
apt pupil up to a point, but he’s approaching the end of his cycle
of usefulness. He thinks the Hunter is using the Ketamine as a
date-rape drug. He’s even eager to go with the Hunter on one of his
excursions.

But Shane is basically stupid in his
interpretation of relationships. He’s still totally unaware of
anything unusual in their arrangement concerning Lori. He has no
clue that his and the Hunter’s feelings in this regard should be at
odds.

Shane’s only concern is that he not be
arrested and that his wife be kept ignorant of the affair. The
Hunter laughs aloud at this latter thought. It won’t be much of a
stretch to keep Missy Cutler ignorant.

In electronic matters, Shane has proved
extremely useful. All the nights spent at Shane’s computer shop,
mining his knowledge, picking his brain, have enabled the Hunter to
set up his own web site. Best part: Shane hasn’t a clue about what
a good teacher he’s been.

Chapter 35

Diana jumped involuntarily at the sound of
the doorbell. She looked out a side window and saw Jess illumined
by the porch light. Her friend looked positively haggard in the
lamp’s yellow rays. As Diana threw open the door, Jess held up a
hand, leaving Diana’s greeting hanging in midair. “Don’t ask,” said
Jess. “It’s been a long day. I need to fill you in, but you need to
feed me.”

“I got the security system fixed,” said Diana
as the two walked toward the kitchen.

Jess brightened. “Oh, shall we test it?”

“It works just fine. The company tested
it.”

“We should make sure,” said Jess, doing an
about face and heading back toward the front door.

Diana grabbed her friend’s arm. “Trust me.
It’s fine.”

In the kitchen, Jess sniffed the air
expectantly. “I haven’t eaten since that overcooked hamburger I
grabbed in Colorado Springs. What’ve you got?”

“No meat. You knew that coming in.” Diana
turned and opened the stainless steel fridge. “I’ve already eaten
and you wouldn’t have liked it anyway. Let’s see … I could make you
an omelet.”

Jess peered over her shoulder. “What’ve you
got to put in it?” Without waiting for an answer, Jess reached
around her and started selecting items: a wedge of cheddar cheese,
a bottle of capers, a carton of ricotta.

“Anything else?” asked Diana sarcastically as
Jess deposited the items on the countertop.

A she settled onto a bar stool, Jess replied,
“Nope, just cook it. Oh, and the eggs. Forgot the eggs.”

Diana rolled her eyes and removed an egg
carton, placing it beside the other items as she dipped into a
cupboard for utensils. Then she began assembling the omelet. “Okay,
Sherlock, let’s have it.”

“For starters, there are three silver Rams
with hunter vanity plates,” began Jess, “and to end the day, I’m
pretty sure I interviewed the guy who raped Lori Rogart.” Into
Diana’s surprised expression, she added, “Better believe he was no
ghost.”

“Not Larry Strickland?” Diana poured a dash
of olive oil into a skillet, then lit the fire under it. Somehow,
she was not surprised.

“Shane Cutler, the youngest member of the
hunting group. Youngest
male
member. The widow Strickland
put me onto him. And, know what? I believe her.”

As she whipped up the eggs and poured them
into the hot skillet, Rogart’s conversation about Lori jumped into
Diana’s mind, this time with a completely different connotation.
“What’s he like?” she asked, adding the other ingredients to Jess’s
dinner.

“He’s an asshole!”

“Understood. But what’s he like?”

“Like a redneck asshole. Don’t you have any
pepperoni?”

“How about some tofu turkey?”

Jess made a face, then continued, “The guy’s
a techy type. Runs a computer store. Could have a connection to the
equipment in your house. Maybe all the buds are in on it. Maybe the
feud between Rogart and Flannigan is bogus.”

Diana pondered that one. If true, Flannigan
deserved an acting award. She wasn’t sure what Rogart deserved.

“Hey,” reminded Jess, “don’t burn my
omelet.”

*****

Later, Jess and Diana sat cross-legged on the
floor in front of the fireplace, nursing snifters of cognac before
a crackling fire. With Jess fed and conversation about diverse
possibilities with the hunting buddies exhausted, Diana’s thoughts
returned to Jess’s background check on Rogart─information that
she’d failed to include in the initial package she’d turned over to
Diana.

“Are you sure there’s nothing in Rogart’s
past that might shed some light on this?” she asked.

Jess shook her head slowly. “Mind if I crash
here? I am beat.”

“No problem,” replied Diana. “Just think back
a bit. You had a pretty complete sheet on Flannigan. Family
background, the usual stuff.”

Jess nodded sleepily. Diana wouldn’t let her
off the hook. “Where did Rogart come from? Does he have relatives?
Was Brandi his first wife? Do you know any of that?”

Jess paused to consider the questions, took a
sip of her cognac. “Upstate New York,” she began. “Family moved to
Colorado when he was pretty young. Grew up around Castle Rock. No
record of any other marriages.”