Free The Hexed (Krewe of Hunters) by Heather Graham Page B

It might just have been some idiot speeding home. Asshole might not even have realized he almost ran down a kid.”
    “True. Can you take me by the scene?”
    “At your command,” Jack told him.
    The crime scene tape was down, the fact that Carly Henderson had died here only a memory for many. Two weeks ago she had been planning her future.
    Now...
    Now she was underground and the soggy tape that had fallen from the trees was all that was left to mark the place where she had passed, a sign of nature regaining control.
    Jack led him the ten feet off the road to the spot where Carly had been found. He stooped down over the faint depression that told him where the body had once been. He could see the point of the star that had been marked by her head, the indentations made by her arms and legs, and was grateful the ground had been soft and muddy from a recent rain the day of her murder.
    What the hell did the position and the pentagram mean, though? A killer who was pretending to a belief he didn’t share? A killer who was sending a message, or one who was pointing a finger?
    He closed his eyes in thought.
    Help me.
    He thought he heard the words in his head.
    The victims knew, he realized with a sudden certainty, despite the absence of proof. They knew that something was wrong, there in the woods. But the killer was there with them—hiding. Either he brought them there or lured them there. Then left them. And he would wait—and watch. He wanted them to realize something was wrong, and only then did he slip up behind them.
    “What is it?” Jack asked. “You’ve figured something out, haven’t you?”
    Careful not to sound too certain and raise suspicion, Rocky said, “Here’s how I think it plays out. Most likely the killer gets there first, then he hides and watches his victim arrive.”
    “We found Carly’s car in town,” Jack said. “It was right where she’d left it, in a garage.”
    “Then she got a ride here somehow. Maybe even with the killer, and then he left her here on some pretext. Or maybe he has an accomplice.” He looked at Jack. “He picks his victims carefully. He convinces them that he has something unique to show them or give them. Or maybe he romances them or comes up with some other reason for them to come to the place he’s chosen. But he’s already there, and he watches. Maybe he takes them when they’re still calm and just waiting—or perhaps he waits until they get impatient, maybe even angry, and finally afraid. Then he attacks.”
    Rocky looked around and noticed one of the trees where the bark had peeled away.
    “He waited there,” he told Jack quietly, pointing.
    “What makes you think so?”
    “The way the bark is worn in places and plucked at. I believe that’s where he was.”
    “I can get a crime scene unit back out.”
    Rocky shook his head. “No, you won’t get any physical evidence. Not now. I’ve got to get into his head, Jack.”
    “Or her head,” Jack said.
    “Or her head,” Rocky agreed.
    He was pensive when they returned to the car.
    “Want to come home with me for dinner?” Jack asked after a while. “Haley would be delighted.”
    “Not tonight. Thanks,” Rocky said. “I’m going to go over everything one more time. I’m expecting some more members of my team soon, too. So...”
    “You going to want a room at the station?” Jack asked him.
    “Thank you. That would be perfect.”
    Jack drove to Rocky’s hotel. There was a group of men in business suits standing out front, finishing up a discussion.
    “Hey, an old friend!” Jack said.
    Rocky studied the group and recognized Vince Steward easily. He had to be six-four, at least, and he was still built like a brick wall.
    He stood out in any crowd.
    “I’ll park,” Jack said. “Vince is going to want to say hello to you.”
    Vince saw Jack before he saw Rocky. He grinned and waved. He’d come a long way from the kid who drank beer in the back of a pickup truck.
    His suit was custom cut;