Page 43 of Long Pig

“Did I hurt you?” Willow asked in horror.

“As we progress in your training, we’re both bound to have bruises. It’s nothing to worry about.”

She continued petting Max until he slumped down beside her and finally relaxed.

“I feel so stupid,” she said. “Should we try it again?” An internal shudder ran through her. She wasn’t sure she could do it again.

Dale searched her gaze. “Let’s work on the next move I planned to show you and we’ll come back to this one another time.”

She let out a slow breath of air, feeling her panic recede even more.

Dale kept the remainder of the workout light, teasing her and reminiscing about bar fights and other stories from his time as a deputy. He rarely discussed the good times he had in his job, and even though she knew he was doing everything in his power to change the tone of the workout, she appreciated it.

When she fell asleep that night, the feeling of being watched returned. It didn’t matter that she was in the house and there was no way anyone was inside, the skin on the back of her neck danced with what felt like electrical current. Then her mind repeated what happened earlier when Dale placed his hands at her throat.

Her nightmares returned in full force.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Mistakes and Old Bones

Butch

Butch woke feeling exhilarated and ready to get started. He made a cup of coffee, and used it to wash down a handful of beef jerky. He wheeled Chris out of the freezer and positioned the hooks and chains. Unfortunately, the experimentation with Chris’s body didn’t go as planned.

He had set up the prep area like his father’s butcher shop, but added an overhead moving rail system that resembled the slaughterhouse. He hadn’t taken into account that Chris’s body was frozen. The gambrel hooks wouldn’t penetrate the frozen muscle, and he was unable to watch the body move along the chain system.

The trial and error frustrated him, and a cloud of red filled his head. He tossed his tools against the side wall, and stomped on several. When his focus returned, the surrounding area looked like a tornado came through.

This was wrong. He should have more control. He steadied his breathing with deep inhales and exhales. To stayunder the radar, he had to be smart. Part of that was governing his dark side.

He placed Chris’s body in a vat of water so it could thaw. When he was able to, he gutted the body in order to save the meat. He would plan better in the future. Preparing Chris was a slow and meticulous process. In the end, he had little in the way of edible portions.

He started his first report. He cataloged his mistakes and overall findings by meticulously writing everything down in a notebook. It kept his mind clear, and this failure in perspective.

It took Butch three more kills to perfect disemboweling, skinning, and processing the human body. Due to the foods humans ate, their meat generally had a rank taste. Through trial and error, he was able to refine the procedure, and produce bacon and sausage that had a much better flavor than roasts and other cuts. Human meat had to be disguised with herbs or smoked to make it edible.

Without the benefit of extreme hunger, he didn’t think he could survive on human meat unless it was prepared correctly. His first batch of salami was as good as pork. After much trial and error, the bacon could pass.

Besides herbs and smoking, he tried drying and canning techniques to preserve what he needed for his own survival. It took a year before he stopped purchasing meat from the grocery stores.

As time passed, choosing his victims became harder. Forensic science was advancing. He dwelled on Cindy. He’d left his DNA behind, especially beneath her fingernails. Her body held secrets that needed to stay buried.

He studied everything available about evidence collection and solving cold cases. The only chance he had was to stay out of police hands. If they never took his DNA, they had nothing to compare with the evidence left on Cindy.

The ancestry test kits worried him. His parents weren’t close to their families, but it didn’t mean a distant relative wouldn’t crop up somewhere and use one of those things. It worried him until he thought he was going insane. When the bad thoughts took over, he’d go on the hunt. Killing was the only thing that kept him stable.

Within two years of him moving in, more people moved onto the ranch. Most had no clue how hard it was to live without electricity and running water. To be comfortable off grid, you needed money. His place had the comforts, though keeping them in good running order took time. His garage could pass for a hardware store.

An older woman moved into a huge monstrosity of a garage he’d had his eye on. The only thing that held him back was that the federal government owned it after a seizure. The east side of the property was a little too close for comfort. Butch found her name in the ranch newsletter. A year after she moved in, he stopped worrying about her. Joan had her own secrets, and she stayed to herself.

The ranch remained stable until the Hogg family bought their homestead. Butch never liked them, and kept a close watch on everything they did. He didn’t like how they treated their dogs. When Butch made a kill, it was clean and quick, or so he liked to tell himself. His victim’s terror was short-lived, and he didn’t torture them more than absolutely necessary. He needed to see the defeat in their eyes: the exact moment they realized their end was inevitable. That’s when he put them out of their misery.

The Hoggs were trouble that ended up resolving itself with Joan’s help. The fact that she died in the process was the shine on the cleaver. Then the old deputy came into the picture, and he worried again. Eighteen months later, Joan’s granddaughter joined him.

Butch stayed out of their way, and they stayed out of his. Then they spotted him as he returned from burying a new set of bones.

Since that meeting, Butch couldn’t get his mind off Willow. She fascinated him for some reason he didn’t understand. She popped into his thoughts at the oddest times. He wanted to touch her hair, and run his fingers through it. Sniffing her neck where it met her jaw became a fantasy he couldn’t let go of. Maybe it was her eyes that intrigued him the most. She had sad eyes that held a history he wanted to understand.