Into the Night(31)

More?

So fucking thirsty. If he didn’t get a drink soon...

How long could a person go without water?

Maybe the prick wanted him to suffer a slow, torturous death. Maybe the guy got off on that. Curtis had just been walking, hiking, exploring the damn trail when he’d seen the guy. Just another day.

But the day hadn’t ended like others. He’d been hit, slammed with a freakin’ hammer, of all things. Curtis had gone down and when he’d woken up...he’d been in the cabin. He’d been a prisoner.

His body shuddered. For a moment, he wished that he had a family. That his wife would be looking for him. Or that his parents would be sending out a search party.

But there was no family. There was no one to give a shit about him. Never had been.

He’d been in the woods too long, but no one would know where to look for him. As he often did, he’d gone off on his own. Only this time...

I’m going to die alone.

The thought ripped through him and he tried to scream. But no sound emerged.





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?”