Eyes of the Predator (41 page)

Exiting his car, Deputy Parsons
reached down and turned the volume down on his portable radio. The air was
crisp and cool by the creek, full of the aroma of the lush vegetation lining
its banks. With an eye on the cabin, alert to any movement, Parsons crossed the
drive to the creek and went down the short bank to the edge of the water.
Crouching low, he then moved along the creek towards the cabin until he could
make out the tag on the rear of the Chevy.

Peering up over the bank through
the trees and vegetation, there was not much chance that he would be seen, even
if someone were watching for him. Still, cautious hunter that he was, he took
his time and slowly moved his head up until his eyes could see the cabin and
the car.

Curtains fluttered in the window
by the door, and he became motionless, watching. After a few seconds, he
determined that the window was closed. No one was visible. His eyes shifted to
the car. The license plate of the Lone Star State was impossible to mistake. He
had confirmed two critical pieces of information, the car and the tag.

Moving slowly, he made his way
back down the bank to the spot where the drive came down from the office. His
car was there, parked on the drive beside the first creek side cabin and
invisible to anyone looking out from the end cabin.

Crouching by the side of the car,
Parsons spoke into his portable radio mike and advised the dispatcher and
responding units that the vehicle was an older model Chevrolet bearing a Texas
license plate. He had seen no one and could not confirm who the occupants were
or if the female was in danger.

“10-4 Rye County. Be advised,
instructions remain to standby unless there is imminent threat to the female.”

“10-4,” he acknowledged.

Imminent threat. How the hell was
he supposed to know what was happening in the cabin. The girl could be
imminently threatened right now, and he would never know it.

Still crouching beside his car,
he leaned back against it. Wondering what to do. Standby. Those were the
instructions. If the man in the cabin was the suspect they were looking for, he
was definitely armed and dangerous and had killed at least two people in the
last couple of days. That thought definitely made standing by seem like the
best course of action.

But there was the girl, if she
was there. The Carlsons never actually saw her, after all. If this was the
right car and the right suspect, the girl might be in no immediate danger. Or,
she might already be dead. He pushed that thought away.

Watching the cabin, he
contemplated the best way to approach and maintain the element of surprise.
They would need to have a plan when the other officers arrived. He could at
least help with that.

Crouching beside his car, Deputy
Parsons considered the best ways to approach the cabin and maintain the element
of surprise. Surprise would be critical.

Minutes ticked by. Parsons had
come up with a plan of approach. It was really pretty simple. Start from here
on foot. Stay close to the fronts of the line cabins so that you were invisible
to anyone looking out the front window of the cabin at the far end, until you
went up on the porch that is. Surprise would be gone then. Still it was the
best you could do.

A few more minutes ticked by as
Deputy Grover Parsons watched the cabin. A woodpecker rapped a staccato beat on
a nearby tree. It was the only sound audible above the rushing of the creek.

He looked up into the cool, clear
autumn sky. Dappled sunlight filtered down through the trees, most of which
still had their leaves. Mid-afternoon, he thought, taking a deep breath of the
cool air.

The sound of a vehicle
approaching slowly on the dirt drive turned his head, and he stood up. About
time, he thought, and then added in a mixture of surprise and consternation,
“What the hell?”

The sign to the Creek Side Cabins
caught Clay by surprise, and he slid the truck’s tires trying to slow enough to
make the turn. Not knowing what to expect, and expecting to be in some trouble
with the GBI and the big Pickham County deputy if they saw him, he proceeded
down the drive cautiously and much less recklessly than Deputy Parsons had
before him.

As he approached the small
cabin-like office, an elderly man and woman came onto the porch. He started to
stop and speak to them, but they motioned him around, pointing down the drive.
It was clear they were signaling him to go further.

Shrugging, he thought, okay. Clay
continued down the long dirt drive, figuring he was committed now. In the
mirror, he saw the couple, arms around each other, watching him and speaking
into each other’s ears as if they were whispering. Very strange.

Approaching the bottom of the
drive, he could see the creek and the first of the line of cabins that
stretched along the creek. Parked on the drive beside the first cabin was a
brown sheriff’s car, and beside it was a deputy whose crouching form rose as
Clay came to a stop twenty feet behind the deputy. The look on the deputy’s
face was primarily one of annoyance, with just the slightest trace of relief
mixed in.

The deputy approached as Clay
climbed out of his pickup.

“Who are you?”

Clay tossed the portable radio he
had been holding onto the truck seat and turned to the deputy. “Clay Purcell,”
he responded, offering nothing more.

“Mr. Purcell, I’m going to have
to ask that you back up the drive and stay at the office for a while. The
Carlsons shouldn’t have sent you down this way.”

“They didn’t. At least I don’t
think they meant to. They motioned me on like they thought I was with you.”

“Oh, right,” Deputy Parsons
nodded remembering the instructions he had given them. “Well, you’re still
going to have to go back and wait at the office.”

“What’s going on?” Clay ignored
the deputy’s instructions, not feeling too intimidated by this young deputy
after his dealings with law enforcement over the past couple of days. Grover
Parsons was not Trooper Collins of the Georgia Patrol after all.

“An investigation, Mr. Purcell.
Sheriff’s business, and you are going to have to turn around right now and go…”

“Is it the old Chevy with Texas
plates?”

The reaction on the deputy’s face
told Clay his question had the desired effect. The deputy took a step back, so
that he could see Clay’s entire body. The look on his face turned from its
initial surprise to stone.

“What do you know about that?”

“Quite a bit.”

“I assume you have a good
explanation for that, so start talking.”

Two minutes later, Clay had
explained how he came to be at the Creek Side Cabins on that sunny, fall
afternoon.

“So you’re the one the patrol
stopped last night. I’ll be damned. Well, you’re a hardheaded son of a bitch.
I’ll say that for you.” Grover Parsons shook his head before continuing. “So
what is the girl to you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing,
maybe something.” Clay looked down at the ground trying to come up with a good
answer, and finding none he said simply, “Conscience I guess. Guilt.” He
shrugged not able to give a better response.

Changing the subject quickly,
Clay asked, “So, what’s the plan. Have you spotted them.”

“The plan is to stand by for the
other units. You heard that on the radio you…borrowed.”

“They said stand by if there was
no threat to the girl. Is there a threat?”

“Well, not that I can tell,”
Parsons responded, clearly not comfortable with his answer.

“Not that you can tell? What does
that mean?”

“Means…I don’t know,” said the
deputy honestly, looking Clay in the eye. “I’ve been squatting here trying to
decide what to do and come up with a plan. Truth is, I have no idea what is
going on in that cabin.”

“So, the girl could be in danger.
There could be a threat.”

“Could be,” Parsons agreed,
looking down and avoiding the look on Clay’s face. That look was a reflection
of what Parsons was feeling inside, and the realization stung enough that he
looked up and said, “You’re right. I don’t know if there’s an
imminent
threat or not, but I know that if this is the suspect, the man has killed. If
the girl is with him, nothing good is going to come from it. That would seem to
be a pretty clear threat.”

Parsons turned and walked towards
his car.

“What are you gonna do?” Clay
asked the young deputy, realizing for the first time that they were about the
same age, and that the deputy must be about as scared as Clay suddenly was.

“Gonna check it out. Backup might
be thirty minutes away, and I’ve been here fifteen already. As far as I’m
concerned, there’s a threat.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No,” Parsons replied without
looking as he reached in his car and pulled the shotgun from the rack between
the front seats. “Go back to the office and wait. I’ll let you know when things
are in hand.”

“I’m going with you.” Clay’s tone
was firm.

The deputy regarded him
thoughtfully for a moment. “Okay. You have a weapon?”

Clay shook his head.

“Take this,” Parsons held out the
Remington twelve gauge shotgun. “You’ve got five rounds. Use it to protect
yourself only. You know how to use it?”

Clay replied by pumping a round
into the chamber.

“Good. Now be careful, and let’s
hope nothing is going to happen. Sheriff finds out I handed you my shotgun, I’ll
get a bunch of time off, that is if I don’t lose my job.”

“I’ll be careful,” Clay assured
him, holding the shotgun with a familiarity that put Parsons’ mind slightly at
ease. “Just for protection. I got it. ‘Course if it comes to that, I guess
we’re both gonna be in the middle of a shit storm,” They exchanged a quick grin
and a nod as they turned towards the cabin.

“You go to the rear. Stay in the
tree line. There’s a small back deck on each cabin. Watch that area. If he
comes out, try and keep an eye on him, but don’t let him see you if possible.
Let the backup units know which way he went.” Parsons paused and looked at Clay
one last time. “That shotgun is for protection only. Remember.”

With a final nod, the young men
moved forward to confront the beast, slightly less confident than when they had
been considering their plan, but committed just the same. They were not aware
that this same beast had been the object of manhunts in a dozen other states.
None had come so close before, or in such proximity to its fangs before, other
than its victims.

The softness of his voice and the
mock tenderness were more frightening than if he had screamed at her. Awake and
energized by his nap, Lylee was ready for the final feast. He would use the
girl up completely now, feeding the beast inside, and would not stop until he
had consumed everything. He would gorge himself until the pleading terror in
her fear-widened eyes dimmed, and the eyes became empty.

Kneeling beside her, he whispered
in her ear.

“Time to wake up.”

Slowly, the girl’s eyes opened,
and she returned to the room. To the present. To him.

He stood up taking a grasping
pull on her hair. His hand moved in a wide arc leaving a stinging slap on her
face. Lyn was wrenched out of the faraway, safe place she had found until she
brought her eyes up to meet his. When they did, they widened with fear. This
was, of course, what Lylee had intended.

Drifting back to reality, to the
cabin, Lyn’s eyes darted around the room trying to understand. Trying to
remember where she was, why she was there. The softness of his voice, combined
with the harsh slap were eerie and confusing.

Wide, fear filled eyes swayed
back and forth while her head was held stationary by his grip on her hair.
Slowly, she realized that they were still in the cabin, and the memory flooded
back, unwanted, into her mind. She had to find a way back to the safe place, to
the swaying pines and cool breezes, away from the man standing nude in front of
her, tearing at her hair.

The curtains over the air
conditioner hung limp. The air conditioner was off. Her arms were still secured
to the chair. No cricket hummed and chirped. There was no escape.

“Let me explain how this is going
to work,” the man whispered into her ear, so close that she felt his breath on
her neck. “We’re going to spend some time together until you give me what I
want. And you will give it to me. Understand?”

Lyn tried to nod her head, but
his grip prevented her from moving. He could feel her try though.

“Good,” Lylee said. “Now, I’m
going to take the tape off of your mouth. We’re going to talk.”

Still holding her hair, he moved
his left hand up to her throat until Lyn felt the knife press firmly against
her trachea.

“If you make one sound, except to
answer me or to talk when I say, anything at all, I am going to hurt you.” He
looked fiercely into her eyes. “I will hurt you bad. You believe me, don’t
you?”

She tried to nod again, and this
time he let her hair go slightly so that she could move her head up and down a
little.

“Good,” he said while reaching
down with the knife, cutting the plastic tie wraps that had held her in place
since he had strapped her to the chair.

Lylee jerked her roughly out of
the chair. She stood uncertainly. Her legs were numb. They tingled painfully as
the blood began to flow through them. Lyn became conscious of the plastic she
was standing on. Looking down, she saw dried red spots and smears on the
plastic. She knew it was blood, her blood.

With the knife still at her
throat, Lylee pushed her towards the bathroom. The door was partially closed,
and he thrust her in bumping her hard into the door.