Page 7 of The First Hunt (The Final Hunt)
JOHN
J ohn knew what his dad was doing as they walked side-by-side through the damp woods beside Star Lake.
His dad had been paying more attention to the news lately; in the evenings, John had seen him lingering over articles about the Green River Killer.
And now his dad wanted to sniff out the famous killer’s latest dump site.
When his dad had come into John’s room that morning, John knew better than to argue.
It’s time to get your head out of those books.
The weather’s getting warmer. Let’s go fishing.
All John wanted to do this Saturday was finish reading The Call of the Wild .
He’d already read it once, but the raw adventure of Buck’s survival in the wild made John want to read it again.
John’s favorite part was Buck’s first kill, when he defeats Spitz, the lead dog, in a brutal fight for dominance.
Buck hadn’t wanted to kill Spitz, but he hadn’t had a choice.
It was kill or be killed. It made John wonder what made his dad kill Sally.
Some kind of instinct, like what Buck felt?
Or had Sally somehow deserved it? Maybe she’d tried to hurt his father.
But she’d seemed so nice. Her crooked smile from the front seat of his dad’s car flashed in John’s mind.
Then an image of her, naked, running for her life out of those woods—away from his father.
John eyed his father now, tromping through the forest. Why had he done that?
There had to be a good reason, he decided, although he couldn’t shake his dreaded suspicion that his father had done it for fun.
After they'd parked on a vacant lakefront lot, his dad had asked John to go for a walk with him through the adjacent woods before John had even gotten his line in the water. John hadn’t been surprised. His father wasn’t a fisherman. He was a hunter. And John had been keeping up on the news too.
His father obviously knew what he was doing, but it felt risky to come here.
The latest Green River Killer victim had been discovered in these woods only three days ago.
What if the police came back? John had realized his dad was using the serial killer to get away with murdering Sally, but did it bother his dad that the Green River Killer was all over the news, getting credit for killing not only his own victims, but Sally too?
John had seen the way his father looked at young women, even teenagers, when the two of them were out. He couldn’t shake the feeling that his father would do to them what he did to Sally. He just hoped he wasn’t around the next time it happened.
Then John was struck by a terrifying thought. What if his dad went down for all the Green River Killer murders and not the other way around?
John kept in stride with his father as he stepped over a fallen log.
He got the feeling his father was competing with the Green River Killer somehow, like it was all a game.
John looked up at his dad, studying him as he crept through the woods.
The woman the police had found a few days ago in these woods had gone missing the day after Thanksgiving, and John had been with his dad that whole day.
They’d even gone to see The Terminator in the theater, so his father hadn't killed her. Still, maybe the Green River Killer didn’t kill all those women the cops thought he had. Maybe his dad killed some of them.
Beside him, his father’s footsteps were barely audible, despite him being over twice John’s size.
A branch snapped under John’s shoe in the quiet woods, the sound reminding him of when he went into the forest and heard Sally scream.
John winced at the memory. He’d been such a coward, running back to the car, leaving Sally to die.
John lowered his eyes to the ground, not wanting to look at his dad. A cold thought slithered in his head— what if he does that to me?
But no. His dad could get angry, could do terrible things, but he would never kill him. He wouldn’t. John’s throat felt tight, like he’d just swallowed a mouthful of dry cereal, as he forced himself to believe it. But if his dad wouldn’t hurt him, then why had he hurt her?
John couldn’t contain the question any longer. “Why did you kill her?”
His father stopped and extended his arm across John’s chest. In a small clearing up ahead, two deer jerked their heads toward the sound.
His dad kept his palm on John’s breastbone as the deer stared at them before bounding in the opposite direction, the white underside of their black tails bouncing up and down as they disappeared into the woods.
“Good thing we aren’t hunting,” his dad said, ignoring John’s question. “The secret to hunting is to not let your prey know you’re coming. The element of surprise is a hunter’s greatest weapon.”
John stared in the direction of the deer, unsure of whether his dad was referring to hunting animals or humans.
His dad smiled. “Ready to fish?”
John swallowed over the growing lump in his throat. “Yeah.”
Halfway back through the woods, in the empty grass lot adjacent to them, a car door slammed.
John peered through the thinning trees. When he saw the vehicle that had parked behind his dad’s blue Ford Fairmont, a wave of dread washed over him.
It was a police cruiser. Bold green letters marked the side: SHERIFF King County.
John watched a muscular man wearing a navy-blue suit put his hands on his hips, exposing his silver badge. His stocky build and dark hair reminded John of Sylvester Stallone. He approached his father’s car, studying the rear license plate.
His father placed a hand on the back of John’s neck as they neared the edge of the forest. A cold knot formed in his gut at the thought of that same hand closing around Sally’s windpipe.
When the two of them reached the lakefront lot, the detective whipped his head in their direction then strode toward them.
“Let me do the talking,” his father said in a low voice.
“I’m Detective Peretti from King County Major Crimes.” He looked between John and his father without offering a handshake. Instead, he pulled back his suit jacket on one side, exposing his badge and holstered revolver. “Can I ask what you two are doing in those woods?”
“Just taking a walk,” John’s father said, lowering his steady hand to the top of John’s back.
“Huh.” The detective flexed his jaw, seeming to size up his father. “Did you know the body of a young woman was discovered in these woods only three days ago?”
His father didn’t answer.
“We believe she could’ve been a victim of the Green River Killer,” the detective added. He pointed behind him toward their parked cars. “You own this lot?”
His father shook his head. “No.”
The detective’s brown eyes narrowed. “Then you’re trespassing. This is private property.”
“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know that. I was just going to let my boy throw a line in the water. But in that case, we’ll find another lake.”
John looked up at his father, impressed by his calm demeanor. There wasn’t a trace of a tremor in his voice.
“Let’s go, John.” His father started toward the car.
“Actually, I’d like you to come down to the precinct. Answer a few questions.” The detective glanced at John before turning back to his father. “If you don’t mind.”
His father spun around. John had read enough to know that his father didn’t have to go with the cop if he didn’t want to.
“I don’t mind at all,” his father said.
John gaped at his dad. What is he doing? Panic gripped him. Was his father going to confess?
“You want us to follow you?” his father asked.
The detective looked triumphant. “That would be great.”
John climbed into the backseat and waited until his dad closed the driver’s side door before he spoke.
“Are you going to confess?” John kept his voice to a whisper even though the detective in the car behind them was already backing out onto the road.
His dad whipped around and put a hand on John’s leg, just like he had after he’d killed Sally.
“Of course not. If I refused to go, it might look suspicious. There’s nothing to be afraid of, John.
I’ll never get caught.” He smiled. “If they ask you any questions, however, I need you to keep quiet. That is your right. So, say nothing. And I mean nothing. Don’t let them trick you, because they’ll try. Cops cannot be trusted. Understood?”
John nodded. He’d read about fifth amendment rights and knew what he meant. “Understood.”