Justified: An Agent Jade Monroe FBI Thriller, #2

Chapter 1

He was hungry for more. His bloodthirst hadn’t been quenched since he left Arkansas several days back. It was time to search out new prey, and prowling the state park system seemed to be working in his favor. He pressed the binoculars against his eyes and looked down into the clearing below as he sat on that tree-lined ridge. A few adjustments finally brought the image into a crisp focus. The three women setting up their campsite looked young, clueless, and vulnerable. They would be easy pickings as far as he was concerned. The women’s laughter echoed along the valley floor several hundred yards in front of him. The location they chose was perfect for his needs—remote and off the beaten path from most of the weekend warriors who thought they knew something about camping.

He watched and studied their behavior and movements. Even if all three ganged up on him, they wouldn’t have a chance. They appeared to be baffled by their attempt to set up a campsite and laughed more than they actually made progress.

Young, stupid city girls, I imagine, and this is probably their first attempt at camping. Perfect, just like sheep headed to slaughter.

They didn’t appear to be over twenty from what he could see. He figured they were college girls trying their hand at wilderness activities that included a lot of drinking. As the lowering sun illuminated their campsite, a glint of glass caught his eye. He focused the binoculars on the blonde and watched as she pulled several pint bottles out of the backpacks.

He grinned and, with a hard smack, smashed the mosquito that had landed on his forehead. A quick flick of his finger sent the dead bug into the woods, then he wiped the blood smear on the leaves beneath him. He panned left and right with the field glasses and looked for movement along the trail. They were a mile out, away from the overnight lodges and yurts, and away from the hustle and bustle of people enjoying the Lake of the Ozarks State Park.

It surprised him that the idea of stalking his prey in the thousands of acres of state and national parks had eluded him in the past. He could pick and choose his victims, slip away into the night, and move on the next day with nobody the wiser.

He glanced again at the sun dropping behind the trees. Shadows took over the valley, and sunset was approaching. In an hour, the orange ball would dip beneath the horizon, and night would settle in.

He had done his research and knew the black bear had repopulated the park. He also knew the best killing tool—to throw everyone off course—was the Neko Te. That gloved, razor-sharp, clawlike weapon could slash like butter through human skin and muscle. The park officials would blame it on the local bear population, just as they had in Arkansas, and he would walk away into the sunset, ready for his next kill.

Looks like it’s time to move in and introduce myself. Got to make them think I’m the neighborly tree-hugging outdoorsman that’s ready and willing to help set up their camp. Before long, they’ll be three sheets to the wind, and that’s when the real party will begin.

He tucked the binoculars back into the large pack, heaved it over his shoulders, then followed the hiking trail that wound downward and took him to their campsite. He had the perfect story memorized, one that each and every victim would hear. For the last few hours of their lives, they would appreciate his help, enjoy his company, and view him as their new best friend.

It took ten minutes to reach the girls. The blond woman had her hair pulled back in a high ponytail and was wearing tan cargo shorts, a long-sleeved plaid shirt, knee socks, and expensive looking hiking boots. She sat on the ground, Indian-style, when he approached. He was sure she’d bought the outfit at Macy’s just for that trip. The trifold instruction manual on how to pitch a tent was spread out on the ground in front of her. She read the directions aloud as the other two tried to figure out how to raise the dome tent.

In a deep voice, he called out, Incoming fellow camper. He chuckled when they jumped. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. He lifted his cap, wiped his brow, and dropped the heavy pack to the ground. A small billow of dust puffed up from the impact. How’s it going? You ladies look like you can use a little assistance.

The blonde stood, slapped the dust off the rear end of her shorts, and reached out to shake his hand. He liked the way she looked, and he’d take his time with her.

Hi, I’m Betsy, and these are my assistants, Brittney and Tara. She laughed with a clueless twinkle in her eye. Actually, we’re best friends and go to college together. Apparently, even with our combined intelligence, we can’t seem to figure out how to pitch a tent.

The two brunettes dropped the tent stakes to the ground, wiped their hands on their pants, and reached out to shake his hand.

He grinned at each of them and gave them a thorough once-over.

You might be book smart, but that’s the only intelligence you have. If you were half as smart as a rock, my coming out of nowhere would immediately raise a red flag.

I’m John Pratt, and I can have that tent set up in ten minutes if you’d like my help.

That would be awesome, thanks. Brittney scratched the raised bite that was turning red on her arm. Camping is quickly losing its luster for me. I’ve already broken two nails.

Nah, being under the stars without other people in sight, you can’t ask for anything better. He unfolded the water-resistant ground sheet, spread it over the cleared area, and then placed the tent rods and stakes on it. All you need is a comfortable tent, a roaring fire, girl talk, and some booze to keep you warm. Why did you come out this far instead of staying near the wannabes? He checked his surroundings again. All was quiet.

Tara plopped down on a rock. It’s because the wannabes need to be next to the shelters, bathrooms, and parking lots where it’s convenient. That isn’t real camping. We saw how those cabins look, and I wouldn’t consider them at all rustic. Anyway, I’ve been told the wannabes get pissed when people play music and talk loud into the night. They expect some kind of curfew out here because they usually have their bratty crying kids along. We wanted to do a little drinking, listen to some tunes, and talk smack over the campfire.

John chuckled. True enough, and I’ve actually had to leave parks in the dead of night because I was having too much fun.

Brittney nodded as she gathered stones and placed them in a circle for the fire pit. I totally understand.

John handed Tara a few fiberglass poles. Okay, feed these poles through the grommets in the top of the tent then bend them to the ground and secure them to the stake loops. Go on, they’re flexible. We’ll have this done in no time.

A few minutes later, the five-man tent was set up and ready for use.

All done, so go ahead and check it out.

The girls unzipped the tent and crawled in. He heard giggling from inside.

You won’t be laughing for long.

So, what do you think?

Brittney stuck her head out. It’s perfect. I guess we should have practiced setting up the tent in advance, though.

No problem. Why did you get such a large tent?

She snickered and shot a sideways glance at Tara. We need the room. There’s someone among us that’s an active sleeper, if you get my drift.

John squashed another mosquito and decided Tara would die first. So, where do you ladies go to school?

Tara answered for all of them. We go to the Ozarks Tech Community College in Waynesville. School is such a blast.

Yeah, I enjoyed college too. Anyway, I should go set up a campsite for myself before it’s too dark. Make sure you hang your food from a tree. Black bear are making quite a comeback in the area.

Betsy scraped her knees as she scurried out of the tent. What do you mean by that?

You know, bear. Those big, dangerous critters with sharp teeth and even sharper claws. Just keep the fire going all night and you’ll be fine. He picked up his bag and turned to leave.

Betsy’s voice went from normal to a high-pitched, panicked tone. "What are you going to do about the bear?"

He shrugged and scratched that bite on his furrowed forehead. Real campers carry bear deterrent. Have a nice time, ladies.

Betsy grabbed his arm. Wait, John. Please don’t go.

Chapter 2

The campfire crackled and popped, and logs hissed from trapped moisture.

We appreciate you setting up your tent here, right, guys? Tara burped with the last few words.

Betsy agreed. We feel much safer with your tent only fifteen feet from ours. Somebody has to protect us from those damn bear, and you’re a big guy. They’d see you and run for their lives.

John gave each of them a grin. I’m happy to help three damsels in distress. His eyes twinkled with malice, but he was sure they didn’t notice. The girls had downed the first pint of vodka, and it wouldn’t take long before they were incoherent and rendered helpless. Tara’s words had begun to slur, and Brittney giggled for no reason at all.

Did we eat yet? Tara asked.

John cracked open the second bottle of vodka, took a gulp, and handed it to Betsy. We had hot dogs, potato chips, and pork and beans, remember?

Oh yeah. Tara chuckled and hiccuped.

Betsy took a few swigs, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and stretched her arm over the campfire to hand the bottle to Tara.

John steadied her. Be careful there. You don’t want to ruin a perfectly good night by injuring yourself. He watched as Tara gulped a good portion of the bottle. Hey, take it easy. You want the fun to last, don’t you?

I’m done. Tara stumbled to the tent, where she spent several minutes trying to unzip the door.

Let me give you a hand with that. John stepped over the fire pit. His tall frame made taking long strides easy. There you go. Once your head hits the pillow, you’ll truly be done.

What time is it? Brittney asked.

John slid back his jacket sleeve and tipped his arm toward the campfire. It’s eleven thirty.

No shit? I guess time flies when you’re having fun.

You sure you want to go to sleep? I guarantee there’s more fun to come.

I think I drank too much. Maybe tomorrow night.

Let’s polish off the second bottle, then we’ll all turn in. What do you say, Betsy? John held the pint bottle to the light. There’s less than half a bottle left. C’mon. Don’t act like girls, be warriors.

Betsy snickered and stuck out her hand. Hell, I’m a warrior. Give me that bottle.

John pretended to take a gulp then wiped his mouth. It’s all yours.

Betsy tossed back her head and drank then jerked her chin toward Brittney.

Brittney took a seat on a rock. Okay, I’m in.

With a stick in his right hand, John stood and stirred the fire then threw another log on it. He’d need a certain amount of ambient light to successfully complete his much-anticipated task. Killing women was in his blood. It was his drug of choice. There was no better fix than the sound of those final gasps of breath, and no drug could compete with the feel of warm, sticky blood as it drained from open wounds. Good enough. You’ll be dead to the world in no time, as peaceful and quiet as it is out here.

Brittney smiled and guzzled the rest of the bottle. That’s what I’m counting on.

Me too.

With visions of what the next few hours would have in store, John stared at Betsy and Brittney. He was becoming aroused. Don’t stay up too long. He pointed over his shoulder at his one-man tent. I’m going to roll out my sleeping bag. Why don’t you ladies go ahead and get comfortable in your tent, and I’ll stoke the fire a few more times. The heat and flames should keep the bear away.

They nodded and crawled inside their tent, then John threw three more logs on the fire.

That should suffice for an hour or more.

He crawled back into his tent and pulled the set of Neko Te gloves out of his pack. He looked them over carefully as he sat close to the mesh window that zipped over the door. The flickering campfire accentuated the razor-sharp fingertips. He carefully rubbed each blade with his shirt. Dried blood coated the sharp steel tips. He thought back to the girls he had killed in that Arkansas state park two nights ago as he put the gloves back in the pack.

They sure put up a good fight. I love that kind of challenge. It fuels my desire for more.

He decided to wait an hour before making his move. He still heard them—fifteen feet away—drunk talking as they settled in for the night. Soon, they’d be silenced for good.

A distant owl hooted, and another answered with a call of its own. John stirred from the sound and was surprised that he had dozed off. The girls took some time to fall asleep, even as drunk as they were. He listened for sounds from the neighboring tent. All was quiet. The time had come.

He unzipped his sleeping bag, climbed out, and opened the backpack. From inside, he pulled out the gloves, careful not to slice his own skin. He set them to the side and reached back in for the headlamp. He tucked his straggly hair behind his ears and secured the light over his head. With his right hand, he pressed the button, and the tent lit up. Hoping to be as quiet as possible, he slowly unzipped the mesh window and crawled out. He reached back and grabbed the gloves.

Before he dozed off, John had planned his method of attack. A bear wouldn’t crawl through a tent door like a human—it would shred everything in sight. The tent would have to go last. John needed to disable the women in quick order to keep them quiet. He’d knock them unconscious then take his time and enjoy the carnage. He approached the tent silently and set the Neko Te gloves on the ground. Once the women no longer posed a threat, he’d secure the instruments of pain and torture over his hands and fulfill his fantasies.

He knelt at their door and, inch by slow inch, unzipped the tent and crawled in. He appreciated the fact that there was room to work. He pressed the button on the headlamp in short bursts of light to see where the ladies were positioned. Brittney lay to the far left, then Betsy, and Tara slept on the far right, facing the tent wall. He silently stepped to the right and knelt over Tara. With his fist balled tight and coiled back, he came forward with a violent thrust and coldcocked her in the face. She didn’t make a peep. John turned to his left, where Betsy lay, and waited for a minute. She grumbled in her sleep, flipped over, and pulled the sleeping bag halfway over her face. Only her eyes were exposed. He gave her the full thrust of his fist to the forehead, then he tiptoed to Brittney’s side. She rolled over, opened her eyes, and squinted when his light hit her in the face.

What’s going on? She abruptly sat up, now fully conscious. Fear and dread covered her face. Tara, Betsy? The sleeping bag held her prisoner as she tried to stand and flee. Brittney fell before she reached the door. With a fistful of her hair, John pulled her head back then bashed her face into the tent floor. She fell quiet along with the others.

Good girl. Looks like it’s party time.

John cracked his knuckles and neck then pushed Brittney aside and reached for the gloves. With the Neko Te carefully secured over his hands, he went to Tara first and sliced her open from forehead to pelvis. He watched as her blood spilled out and soaked the sleeping bag beneath her. He returned to Brittney, who lay facedown near the unzipped door. He bore down on her head with the claws and gouged the razors through her hair and scalp. He buried the claws in her back and dug in deeply. John pulled the claws through her muscle and ended at her ankles then flipped her over and repeated the process to her front side. Both girls would die soon from blood loss. He wanted to take his time with Betsy, but the thought of real bear investigating the scent of blood had him a bit nervous. There was still work to do before he disappeared into the night.

Betsy, wake up. He pulled off the gloves and slapped her face. Wake up, damn you! He shook her by the shoulders. She moaned. Good, now open your eyes.

I can’t see. That light is blinding me. Why is my forehead pounding?

You’re going to die tonight, so lie still. I want to have some fun with you first.

John covered her mouth with his enormous hand as she tried to fight him off. She flailed and kicked then bit him.

You stupid bitch. John swung his arm and slapped her hard across the face.

Betsy dove for the exit and scratched her way across the tent floor, but she couldn’t match his speed. John grabbed her leg and jerked her back in. When she made contact with her free leg and kicked him with everything she had, the jolt in the face stunned him. That fueled his anger even more. He laughed, threw her to the ground, and straddled her. She was pinned beneath his heavy body with nowhere to go. He pressed her into the floor with his knees then slipped the Neko Te back over his hands.

Ready to join your friends? Here we go.

With the claw of his index finger, John punctured the hollow at the base of her throat. Blood pumped out with each breath she took.

How does that feel? He watched with pleasure as her wide, terrified eyes began to roll back. Let’s move on. He slid farther down her body and dug in. He pulled with the claws and tore open her flesh and muscle as he went along. She twitched and moaned with each new slash until she fell silent. He smiled at the bloodied bodies strewn about the tent. Sorry I didn’t have more time to spend with you, Betsy, but I have to work on the tent now. John climbed out and stood under the stars, where the metallic scent of blood filled the night sky. He cracked his neck and shoulders, took a deep breath of crisp air, and began shredding the tent. With his needs met and the campsite destroyed to appear like a bear attack, John dismantled his own tent, changed clothes, loaded his gear, and disappeared into the woods.

Several hours after catching one short ride, John heard air brakes hiss in front of him, and the oversized tractor trailer rumbled to a stop. John jogged along the shoulder of the four-lane highway toward the big rig, and with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, he saw the driver staring back at him through the passenger-side mirror. Grasping the handrail, he climbed the first step and pulled the truck door open.

The driver sized him up then waved him in. Need a ride?

I sure do. I’ve been walking for hours, and this pack is awfully heavy. Appreciate it, man.

The trucker checked his side mirror, clicked the blinker, and pulled back onto the road. Where are you headed?

Anywhere you’re going. I’m taking it one day at a time, meeting new friends, and seeing new sights.

The trucker stuck out his hand. I’m Ray Moore, and you are?

John Pratt’s the name, and it’s nice to meet you. Are you a long-haul driver, Ray?

Yeah, sure am. I started my day a few hours back, just south of Branson. I’m headed to the Detroit area.

Sounds good. I know people up north. Mind if I tag along for the duration?

Not at all. The company will help keep me awake. You can toss your bag in the back. That footwell is small for a guy your size.

John nodded and heaved his pack and his baseball cap into the sleeper behind him. I used to be an over-the-road driver.

No kidding? What was your route?

My weekly route took me from Arkansas to Arizona. He chuckled. I hauled pet supplies.

Yep, there’s a huge pet supply headquarters just outside Phoenix along I-10.

That’s the one.

Good thing I listened to the last trucker’s yammering before I killed him. At least I had a vehicle to drive and a bed to sleep in for a few days.

John?

Oh, sorry, my mind drifted off. What did you say?

I asked where you came from?

Most recently the Little Rock area. I’m just traveling and checking out the scenery with no particular place in mind.

Sounds like a nice life.

John grinned. And it keeps getting better. I can take over driving too whenever you get tired.

Humph, I just might take you up on that.

Chapter 3

Amber and I sat at the table and enjoyed our undisturbed Saturday morning breakfast. That in itself was something to be thankful for. I wasn’t called in on a case yet, and it was nine a.m. It could turn out to be a relaxing weekend after all. The house smelled like bacon, coffee, and pure maple syrup, heavenly scents on their own, but mixed together, that was something I could linger in forever.

Want another pancake?