phone.
The Cherokee peeled away from the curb and rocketed to the north.
“Now,” Dandridge said as the dial tone droned in his ear. “Talk.”
V
22 Miles West of Lander, Wyoming
All of the cars, minus the sheriff’s Blazer, were still parked exactly where they had been when Henson drove him to the motel, only all of the lights were now dark. Les had hoped to find at least one of the officers milling around the lot so he could simply relay his message and be done with it, but his luck held true. He dreaded the prospect of hiking back up to that site. The last thing he wanted was to see how many more corpses they’d uncovered during the night. Or worse still, if he was right and the killer was up there at this very moment, he feared the prospect of running into him in the middle of the isolated wilderness. Surely there were enough policemen up there that even if the killer was hiding where Les suspected, he wouldn’t dare take the chance of revealing his presence. Les just needed to reach the officers, tell them what his research produced, and then allow himself to be escorted back to town, where surely his car would be waiting for him and he could return to his normal life. Before the start of the evening news, he’d be lounging in his recliner with a well-deserved glass of wine, this whole mess already forgotten.
Of course, that didn’t make his current task any less terrifying.
The grumble of the old pickup faded behind him, leaving him to the company of the raucous starlings and the squeaking ground squirrels. He stared up the steep first leg of the path to where it disappeared into the pines. The sooner he started, the sooner he’d be back down here, he told himself. And while the shadows still clung to the forest, at least he wasn’t making this journey under the dead of night in complete darkness.
He drew a measure of comfort from the sunlight. Monsters only hunted at night, didn’t they? But that was another thing that troubled him. He may have discovered the ancient schematics for the medicine wheel, but he still had no idea what its function might be. What was the construct’s relationship to today, the summer solstice, and how did it relate to the proximity of the sun? And there were still the trees to consider. What was buried under the ground that had caused such strange growth patterns?
A shiver rippled up his spine. The branches above him swayed against the cool morning breeze.
He was just going to have to wait and watch the news for resolution. Right now, his only concern was making sure the police were properly prepared to roust the killer from his warren so there wouldn’t be another body to complete the outer ring of the medicine wheel, and then he could formally wash his hands of it.
As the golden sun rose slowly in the sky, Les mounted the trail, doing his best to focus on anything other than the image of twenty-eight small bodies bearing witness to the ascension of something dark from the pit.
VI
13 Miles West of Lander, Wyoming
Preston pinned the gas pedal coming out of the curve and into a short, rutted straightaway. Gravel ricocheted from the undercarriage. The tires slewed from side to side, throwing up a roiling cloud of dust in their wake. The professor’s motel room had been empty when they arrived, however his belongings were still heaped in the corner. He hadn’t mentioned where he might have gone to the desk clerk who had opened the room for them, and they hadn’t had the time to canvass the town looking for him. With the sheriff’s daughter already in the clutches of the killer, their only option was to follow their instincts, and they both agreed that going to the site of the awful burial was the most logical course of action considering they had no other leads.
Preston tried to steel himself against the horrible reality of coming face-to-face with his daughter’s posed remains, but he knew there was nothing he could do to mentally prepare himself. He had
The Cherokee peeled away from the curb and rocketed to the north.
“Now,” Dandridge said as the dial tone droned in his ear. “Talk.”
V
22 Miles West of Lander, Wyoming
All of the cars, minus the sheriff’s Blazer, were still parked exactly where they had been when Henson drove him to the motel, only all of the lights were now dark. Les had hoped to find at least one of the officers milling around the lot so he could simply relay his message and be done with it, but his luck held true. He dreaded the prospect of hiking back up to that site. The last thing he wanted was to see how many more corpses they’d uncovered during the night. Or worse still, if he was right and the killer was up there at this very moment, he feared the prospect of running into him in the middle of the isolated wilderness. Surely there were enough policemen up there that even if the killer was hiding where Les suspected, he wouldn’t dare take the chance of revealing his presence. Les just needed to reach the officers, tell them what his research produced, and then allow himself to be escorted back to town, where surely his car would be waiting for him and he could return to his normal life. Before the start of the evening news, he’d be lounging in his recliner with a well-deserved glass of wine, this whole mess already forgotten.
Of course, that didn’t make his current task any less terrifying.
The grumble of the old pickup faded behind him, leaving him to the company of the raucous starlings and the squeaking ground squirrels. He stared up the steep first leg of the path to where it disappeared into the pines. The sooner he started, the sooner he’d be back down here, he told himself. And while the shadows still clung to the forest, at least he wasn’t making this journey under the dead of night in complete darkness.
He drew a measure of comfort from the sunlight. Monsters only hunted at night, didn’t they? But that was another thing that troubled him. He may have discovered the ancient schematics for the medicine wheel, but he still had no idea what its function might be. What was the construct’s relationship to today, the summer solstice, and how did it relate to the proximity of the sun? And there were still the trees to consider. What was buried under the ground that had caused such strange growth patterns?
A shiver rippled up his spine. The branches above him swayed against the cool morning breeze.
He was just going to have to wait and watch the news for resolution. Right now, his only concern was making sure the police were properly prepared to roust the killer from his warren so there wouldn’t be another body to complete the outer ring of the medicine wheel, and then he could formally wash his hands of it.
As the golden sun rose slowly in the sky, Les mounted the trail, doing his best to focus on anything other than the image of twenty-eight small bodies bearing witness to the ascension of something dark from the pit.
VI
13 Miles West of Lander, Wyoming
Preston pinned the gas pedal coming out of the curve and into a short, rutted straightaway. Gravel ricocheted from the undercarriage. The tires slewed from side to side, throwing up a roiling cloud of dust in their wake. The professor’s motel room had been empty when they arrived, however his belongings were still heaped in the corner. He hadn’t mentioned where he might have gone to the desk clerk who had opened the room for them, and they hadn’t had the time to canvass the town looking for him. With the sheriff’s daughter already in the clutches of the killer, their only option was to follow their instincts, and they both agreed that going to the site of the awful burial was the most logical course of action considering they had no other leads.
Preston tried to steel himself against the horrible reality of coming face-to-face with his daughter’s posed remains, but he knew there was nothing he could do to mentally prepare himself. He had
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