Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 126823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126823 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Deacon was fully clothed, but his face was unrecognizable due to the repeated smashing from the rocks. The two good-sized rocks used to bludgeon him to death were left behind. His body had been covered with insects, but they were lucky in that no predator had found him.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Shabina ventured. “If whoever murdered him performed some kind of ritual, they very well could repeat it. I don’t know all that much about this kind of thing. Stella is the one to talk to about serial killers, but I don’t like the sound of a ritual.”
Scorpion had never used any kind of ritual before he killed. His idol was Vlad the Impaler, and he wanted the same kind of fame. One kill wasn’t his style. But still…
“I put various beliefs in the computer to search for similar rituals, and nothing came up with an exact match,” Raine said. “The computer is still searching, but it isn’t a voodoo ceremony or satanic or any other that might involve a blood sacrifice. Naturally, they don’t want to release details to the public. The problem is they had so many on Search and Rescue that enough people saw the body and talked about what they saw in spite of being told not to.”
“The sheriff will call in the FBI, won’t he?”
“That would be standard. And they’ll warn park visitors to stay alert and in pairs. You have to be careful, Shabina. You go out on your own often.”
“I have the dogs with me, and I’m always armed.” She sounded confident because she was. She knew the trails, and she knew her dogs. They would alert the moment anyone came close to her. She didn’t get lost or turned around. No one could sneak up on her and bash her over the head.
Shabina did worry about the various tourists that had come into her café. They had all been eager to go backpacking and exploring in Yosemite. It wasn’t that many months earlier that a serial killer had been stalking victims in the Sierra, people she knew. Friends. It had been an extremely troubling time for her and her friends, particularly Stella and Vienna. The serial killer had turned out to be someone they knew and had targeted both women.
“I still think it would be a good idea for you to stay off the trails until the murderer is caught,” Raine suggested.
Shabina made a face. “When I’m alone in the forest with just the birds, I find peace there I can’t find anywhere else. I wish I could explain it to you. I have an affinity with them. It isn’t just that I can sing their notes or identify them by their feathers or the sounds they make.”
She hesitated again, afraid of sounding crazy. If anyone would believe her and understand, it was Raine. “Sometimes I can fly with them. I don’t know how I can connect with them, but I do. Maybe it’s all in my imagination, but they seem to be able to take me with them into the trees, where I can look through their eyes down onto the floor of the forest. Or we soar in the sky, and I can see for miles. It’s true freedom when I never feel free.”
Raine rubbed at the bridge of her nose for a moment. “I can see why you would want to continue going out when you have that. Who wouldn’t?”
“You, more than anyone else, know what I’ve been through. You at least saw the photographs, but there’s no real way for you to experience what it was like to live in the kind of terror Scorpion subjected me to on a daily basis. Seeing him torture and kill men, women and children. Not just him but his demented cabinet and the mercenaries he surrounded himself with. He took such delight in what he did and more delight in forcing me to witness his sadistic depravity.”
A shudder went through her body. She wrapped her arms around her middle and found herself rocking back and forth in an effort to self-soothe. “I do my best to lead a normal life. I want to be normal. I want to have my dream café and friends I care about. I know all of you love me. I do know that. I love all of you. But the truth is, I feel alone every minute of the day. There’s no way for anyone to understand me. I can hardly understand me or my reactions to things on any given day. How would any of you be able to? When you ask me if I’ve called my therapist because I’m getting nightmares or flashbacks? Of course I have. Am I implementing the tools I’ve learned to counteract the PTSD negativity? Yes. The answer would be yes. I’ve done every single thing I’m supposed to do.”