Eyes of the Predator (37 page)

“My brother, Cy, too. He was
there.”

“Right, you and your brother.
Best thing you can do now is head home and wait. We’ll let you know what
happens. We have your number.”

“You have my phone.”

“I’m from down in Pickham, I’ll
find you. Besides, the trooper has your home contact information in the report.
Right?” George looked over at Trooper Collins who nodded. “So go home now.”
George paused. Like Price, he had no idea what to say next, so he said what he
could. “We’ll do what we can.”

With that, the three walked out
of the door and into the dark early morning. Clay stood looking at the door for
a few seconds, then Trooper Collins spoke.

“Here’s the receipt for your
phone.” He held up a slip of paper. “Do what the deputy said, Clay. Go home. Go
find your brother.”

Taking the slip of paper, Clay
mumbled a thanks and stepped through the door. The early morning air was dark
and damp from the earlier rain. The tires of the two vehicles hissed on the wet
pavement as they pulled from the lot onto the highway.

He watched the taillights of the
state car and the deputy’s pickup disappear in the mist. When they were gone,
he climbed into his truck, turned the engine over, and backed carefully away
from the state patrol building. Pulling onto the highway, he turned north and
increased speed until the taillights of the Pickham County deputy’s pickup were
just visible through the mist. Matching speed with the vehicle, he settled in.
He didn’t know where they were going, but he was going there too. As he drove,
the seeds of a plan started to form in his brain.

He would follow them until
daylight when he would have to back off. They would know his truck immediately,
and he knew if they looked in the mirror and saw him, they would send him
packing, with an escort if necessary. But they would be getting to Augusta
about daylight and once they got there, he would see if he could make his plan
work.

Doubt started to settle in for a
moment, but he shook it off. He didn’t have his phone, but he had a very clear
memory of the girl’s confused and lonely voice in the message. He was committed
now. He would follow until he knew what had happened to her. He felt somehow
that he owed that to her.

For the hundredth time that day
he thought, ‘Cy will be really pissed’. He pushed that one away for now.

The settlement of Crichton was in
the Appalachian foothills. It had taken the old Chevy less than a minute to
pass from one end of the village to the other and then back out into the
predawn gloom of the forest canopy, split narrowly by the two lane road. The
north Georgia mountains were dotted with little crossroads settlements hidden
among the forests and hills.

Lylee knew that it was time to
get off the road for a while. With the bloodlust rising in him, he had taken
chances that he would normally have avoided after a kill. Now it was time to
rest. Once again, his hand reached out for the girl’s thigh. Stroking it, he
felt the hunger rise in him.

Practiced eyes scanned the
roadside in the dark. A few miles north of Crichton, he found what he was
looking for.

The sign made from rough cut logs
said “Creek Side Cabins”. Lylee slowed at the entrance and peered down the
gravel drive into the dark. A small building surrounded by pines was visible in
the headlight beams at the end of the drive. The creek side cabins were not in
view. Good. They would, no doubt and as the name suggested, be nestled cozily
beside some small mountain creek surrounded by the thick mountain trees. A
picture postcard scene that would be lost on the two in the Chevy. One had
plans that would turn the rustic setting into a very unpleasant place. The
other just wanted to stay alive.

The car bumped heavily as it
turned sharply onto the rough drive. Lyn could not suppress a gasp of surprise.
Headlight beams illuminated a narrow tunnel of green through the trees. Lyn
fought down the fear and the urge to scream. It was an overwhelming urge that
nearly boiled the scream from her. But that was what he wanted. She knew.

She also knew that the turn down
this dark road meant that there would be more reasons to scream. Soon. She did
not think she would be able to stop those screams.

Arriving in Augusta, George
guided the Pickham County sheriff’s pickup through unfamiliar territory until
they were on Washington Road. Passing Augusta National Country Club, home of
the Masters Golf Tournament, George slowed a little as they both turned their
heads and tried to peek up Magnolia Lane. Not much was visible in the early
dawn light.

“Humph,” George said increasing
speed again. “Lived in Georgia all my life, and this is the first time I’ve
been here.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Price said
studying the map on her. “Been to Augusta a few times passing through. Never to
visit and sure never to go to any golf tournament.”

George nodded his concurrence
with a smile.

“Yeah. Golf  isn’t real big
in the part of Georgia I come from. Bankers and lawyers play, and the sheriff.
That’s about it.” George bumped the speed up again. Washington Road was taking
them north, out of the city. “Which way we headed?”

Sharon Price looked up from the
map. “About like we are now. We can take the state highways to the northwest.
Little slower than the interstate, but a lot more direct. We’ll cross back and
forth across the state line into South Carolina a few times following the
Savannah River, but we’ll end up where we said, around I-85 in north Georgia,
the Toccoa area. Who knows…,” her voice trailed off in uncertainty.

George looked over at the GBI
agent. “I know it’s a long shot. We don’t have any idea where this animal is
headed.”

Price cut him off. “No need to
explain, George. It may be a long shot, but it’s the only shot we have. And
something else.” George’s head turned with interest towards her before she
continued. “He’s due to make a mistake, and we’re due to get lucky.”

He nodded slowly. The hunter in
him knew that this last was true. You could plan, arm yourself, stalk, and make
all necessary preparations for the hunt, but in the end, after patience, it
helped to have a little good luck. He had known plenty of experienced hunters,
himself included, who spent days in the field without a kill, while the rookie
stumbles noisily upon a trophy buck standing in the trail and is able to get
off a shot. He would take that, he thought. A lucky shot would be just fine, and
they could end this now. End it before he was too late…again.

The speed limit increased to
sixty-five as they distanced themselves from the environs of Augusta, and
George pushed the accelerator until the speedometer read seventy. Plowed fields
and stands of woods flashed by in the graying dawn. There was little traffic at
this hour but they examined every vehicle that came into sight, hoping to get
lucky.

Lyn watched him climb the steps
made from logs cut flat on one side. The building was a small cabin also made
of logs. It looked like something from an old western movie to her, only nicer.
A dim light was visible through a window that had red plaid curtains hanging
and pulled back at the bottoms. There were flowers planted in barrels on each
side of the door. To Lyn, it looked like something from a magazine. Pretty and
picturesque; a far cry from the bare, gray walls of her room in the shack they
had called home.

The sound of running water
splashing on rocks made its way into the car from somewhere not too distant.
Lyn looked around as far as she could turn with her hand bound to the frame of
the seat. They seemed to be in the middle of the woods. The country around that
was visible in the early morning light was hilly and rose up sharply all
around.

Sounds from the porch caused her
to turn her head. An old man in a flannel shirt opened the door with a smile.

“Mornin’. You’re out pretty
early, even for us old-timers.”

Lylee smiled back his ‘charming’
smile and added a bit of ‘good ole boy’ to win over the old man’s trust.

“Sorry about that, sir. My wife
and I are headed up to Sliwell, Kentucky. Driving all night, thought we might
could stop and spend a day or two in one of your cabins.”

The old man regarded the stranger
quietly for a moment. Craning his head to one side he looked past the thin man
to the old Chevrolet parked at the end of the walk. He was unable to make out
more than just a silhouette of someone in the car.

“Well, we do most of our business
by reservation, but just so happens we haven’t started our busy season yet, and
we do have a few cabins open. In fact, they’re all open.” He pulled the door
wider and stepped aside as an invitation for the stranger to enter. “If you’re
only staying for a couple of days, that is. Got most of the cabins rented out
this weekend to leaf watchers wanting to see the colors turn on the trees. They
come up from Atlanta on Friday and leave Sunday afternoon.”

“Not a problem,” Lylee said,
smiling more broadly. “We’ll be gone by then. Just want to rest up and enjoy
the scenery for a day or two. Then we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Gannet, step out of the way and
let the boy in.” An old woman who had clearly heard their conversation came
from a room off to the right, pinning her gray hair back as she walked. “Let’s
get you signed up and settled in.” She motioned with her head to the door.
“Gannet, go outside and ask the young lady to come in. I’ll fix up some
breakfast for us. Not much going on now, until the weekend. You’d be welcome
company.”

Lylee held his place in the
doorway and said, still smiling, ‘No, ma’am. Can’t do that.” He smiled again at
the old woman’s raised eyebrow and added, “Sarah, that’s my wife, is sleeping.
She’s pretty exhausted. We got some food in the car. What we are really needing
right now is some sleep in a good bed instead of the front seat of that old
beater.” He jerked his head towards the car outside. “Besides, she’s not very
presentable, traveling and all. She’d be annoyed that I didn’t let her get
herself tidied up a bit. You know how you ladies are.” He smiled in his
appreciation of the ways of her gender.

The old woman smiled back,
nodding her understanding. “Well, let’s get you settled in then. You want a
creek side or tree side view?”

“Creek side,” Lylee said without
having to think. The noise of the flowing water would dampen any sounds that
might come from the cabin. He followed her to the desk and signed a card,
entering a false Texas home address to go with the stolen Texas plates on the
car.

“We’ll put you someplace quiet,
all the way in the back at the end of the property. You should be able to get
some sleep there without being troubled by traffic on the highway.”

“That’d be perfect, ma’am.”

The woman picked up the card,
peering at it through the bottoms of the her glasses. “Texas, huh? Thought that
accent didn’t sound like Kentucky.”

“No, ma’am. I’m from Texas. All
my life. My wife’s from Kentucky. We’re going to visit her family.”

“Must not be in any hurry to get
there,” the old man chimed in.

“Is anyone ever in a hurry to
visit the in-laws?” Lylee said, grinning like an experienced married man.

“You got that right, boy. You got
that right,” Gannet said, avoiding the sharp look the old woman gave him. “So,
let me show you in and help you with the bags.” He added changing the subject
quickly.

“No need. Just point me in the
right direction, and we’ll find it. Besides, Sarah would be upset if I let
anyone see her right now. I’d never hear the end of it.”

Old Gannet nodded with a
smile—the way men do who are experienced with their women. He held the key out
for Lylee. “Just take the drive all the way to the end, then right along the
creek. Your cabin’s the last one on the end.”

“Thanks a lot. Really appreciate
it,” Lylee said, taking the key that was chained to a small stick carved to
look like a log from a cabin. Looking over at the old woman he added, “I’ll
bring Sarah around to say hello when she’s had some rest and a chance to clean
up.”

“You do that,” the old woman said
politely. There was something in her eye that caught Lylee’s attention for just
a second. It was a look that said, ‘Something’s not quite right. I can’t say
what, but something’s not just the way this young man is telling it.’ Lylee
marked the look in his brain without a comment, filing it away for future
reference that might require some action on his part before he departed the
Creek Side Cabins.

The cabin key clutched firmly in
his hand, Lylee went out onto the wooden porch and down the log steps to the
car. Lyn watched him walk quickly to the driver’s door.

Peering from the lighted window
of the office, the old woman could not make out anything inside the car. The
morning was still dark and only a hint of dawn light streaked the sky above the
mountains. In the shadows below, the night lingered.

Turning her head, Lyn could see
the old woman watching and squinting through the window glass. She knew that
she was invisible to the woman.

The car started smoothly and
pulled away from the small log cabin office making the turn down the drive. The
sound of rushing water grew louder. Pulling to the end of the drive, the car
stopped in front of a small cabin at the end of a line of cabins along the
creek. All looked deserted. There were no lights, no cars. Beyond this last
cabin, there were only trees. Lyn’s eyes closed as she fought back a shudder.
His hand was back on her thigh.

“Honey, we’re home,” he said,
softly.