Bite Deep (6 page)

‘Any other details?' Lydia asked as they approached the Ranger.

‘Just that it's messy,' Bowden said. ‘Might have been a wild dogs. It's happened before.'

He popped the locks and got in. Lydia blew out a breath before climbing into the passenger side and clicking on her seatbelt. She could handle an animal kill. It wasn't the same as a person. It just wasn't. That was, unless it was a cute puppy, then she might feel kind of choked up. All the same, she was glad she hadn't had a chance to eat her sandwich.

* * *

Coulter stared at the surveillance photos taped to one wall of the small house, filling every inch of it. He'd entered the Hunter's tiny brick home with a building sense of dread and while he hadn't found any pickled body parts in the refrigerator, there was enough evidence around to suggest the Hunter had become unhinged.

Surveillance photos of the two rehabilitation centres, most of Crystal Waters, covered the lounge room walls. There were also the images of women from the compound, in town on errands, but he couldn't see any of the men from the male compound.

His lips thinned as he began pulling the photos off the wall and placing them in piles on the dining room table. From the kitchen next door, the Hunter spoke about what he'd learned about the two Breed communes as he made them tea.

The information wasn't anything Coulter didn't already know and he tuned out quickly, mentally going over what he knew about this man. He'd been holding a steady job in Camden for the last three years, a front for the assignment of watching the communes. Nothing new had been derived from the posting though, and his Hunter knew nothing of the rumour about the Breed King coming to visit.

Coulter realised the Hunter had stopped talking and was standing in the kitchen doorway, holding two steaming mugs.

‘What are you doing?' He walked over and placed down the mugs. Coulter continued to take the photos down, stacking them in piles and ignoring the Hunter's alarmed look.

‘Why did you kill the female Breed?' Coulter asked.

The Hunter's eyes dropped. ‘It was an accident.'

‘Explain.'

‘I'd seen her a few times, and thought by getting close, I could get better information.' He looked up at Coulter, defensive now. ‘It was a good plan. She really liked me.'

‘And why did you kill her?' Coulter repeated his question.

The Hunter stared at him, and Coulter felt a small shiver roll down his spine at the emptiness he saw there. Then the Hunter blinked and sat down at the table, sipping his tea.

‘I don't know,' he said. ‘One minute we were talking in the car, the next moment she had gotten out and was running from me.'

Coulter's hand hesitated over one of the photos on the wall, this one recent and of Lydia. ‘What were you talking about?'

‘Her life at Crystal Waters. I guess I pushed too hard and she got suspicious.'

‘And do you have anything of hers that might tie you to her?'

‘No.'

‘Are you sure?' Coulter pressed. He knew the minds of killers and their desire to keep something, a trophy of their victim.

The Hunter didn't answer at first, then he picked up one of the photos and stared at it intently. ‘No one ever saw me with her. I won't be tied to her death.'

Coulter put the photo of Lydia to the side of the piles he was making. ‘It will only be a matter of time. The Breed won't stop until they find out who killed her.'

‘I'm not afraid,' the Hunter said sullenly. ‘And I don't see why you have to pack up all my work.'

‘We need these images for our files,' Coulter said in a calm voice. ‘Why don't you continue with your report.'

The tea now sat ignored by both men, while the Hunter continued talking about what he'd observed in Camden. Not for the first time, Coulter wondered how the Association could have missed that there was something wrong with this Hunter. Stringently vetted for their religious and personal beliefs, Hunters were also assessed on their mental status and stability and this one had sailed through the tests easily. Coulter knew he would be blamed. After all, this project had been his idea. It was just fortunate the woman the Hunter had murdered had been Breed. If she had been human, the Hunter would have been executed. No trial, no appeal. Their duty was to save human lives, not take them.

‘Are you going to pull me out? Is that what's happening here?' the Hunter asked suddenly.

Coulter's hand paused over one of the photos for a second before he ripped it off, tearing away some of the wall plaster. ‘It's time for you to be reassigned.'

‘But I'm established here. I have the locals' trust. I even uncovered where the last witch is in town. She could be a problem, you know.'

‘Enough.' Coulter turned from the wall and gave the Hunter a smooth smile. ‘You've been isolated here for a number of years now. This is standard procedure.'

The Hunter frowned and sat down heavily at the dining room table. ‘It would be a mistake.'

‘That's not your call.' Coulter picked up one of the photos of Lydia he'd found. He didn't bother asking why the Hunter had taken them. This time tomorrow, he'd be on a private plane, heading to one of the Association's many headquarters around the world. Preferably somewhere very isolated, where he could do minimal harm.

‘I don't like it,' the Hunter muttered.

Coulter gave him a cold smile. ‘Remember your training. You are not a sole individual fighting this war. You are part of a team, working towards a common goal.' He eyed the tea on the table and decided against drinking it, knowing it would taste like dirt-water.

Excusing himself, he made his way to the bathroom. Touching the photos had made him feel dirty and he washed his hands, thinking about Lydia. He was anxious to make contact and see if she'd inherited any of her father's traits. It was a common practice for a Hunter's genetics to be tweaked for optimal human resistance and strength, making their offspring ideal candidates for the Association. He didn't think Lydia knew anything about Breed yet, and he mentally went over the script that recruiting Hunters used when introducing someone to their world.

He wiped his hands on the towel, preparing himself for his return to the Hunter's tense company. He'd be glad when this was over and he knew Lydia would be the perfect replacement. He also knew she'd been assaulted, and had read about the damage it had done to her, physically and psychologically. She'd come here to heal, he guessed, and perhaps to find another purpose. Something he knew he could help her with.

Aside from fellow Hunters, Coulter didn't have any other family, and Lydia coming back to Camden felt like a sign that she was ready to leave behind her policing career and join him. After all, it wouldn't be hard to convince her. He'd seen the horrors the Breed had wrought in the past and knew within his soul that they were the personification of evil, cursed by God. His calling to the eradication of Breed was an act of divinity, and the peace treaty stood in his way of acting openly, with the full support of the Association at his back.

The rumours about the Breed King coming to Camden had come through a reliable source, and if they were true he would be positioned to take the lead on a strike team

Coulter paused to stare at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to ignore the new wrinkles on his face, the spreading grey hair at his temples. He was still young at heart, with righteous conviction running thick through his blood, and he would be the wrath of God here in Camden, soon, with Lydia fighting by his side.

Chapter 5

Lydia stood behind Bowden, trying to keep a distance from the body laid out on the examination table. The woman seemed even more fragile as she lay naked on the slab, a final indignity.

Anglo leaned over the corpse, taking more photos, and while Lydia wanted to take a closer look at the body herself, she didn't want to piss off the medical examiner any more than she had. Considering the snide remarks he'd already made about her presence there, it seemed her very existence was enough to annoy him, though she wasn't sure why.

Camden Community Hospital was small and the autopsy suite bordered on claustrophobic, with only half a dozen cold storages and a single examination table, walls lined by drawers filled with metallic toolboxes containing stainless-steel equipment. The room had the sharp stink of chemicals and a small sink sat behind her, the tap dripping no matter how hard she'd twisted it. An assortment of equipment was piled beside it, along with what looked like a defibrillator case, which she thought a tad optimistic, considering the location.

‘Small tattoo here.' Anglo lifted one hip with gloved hands. ‘Help me move her, Frank.'

Bowden grimaced, reluctantly stepping around the table. Both men turned the body onto its side and Lydia found her feet had moved without her being aware of it, coming to stand behind the two men. She peered down at what Anglo had spotted. Bowden braced himself against the dead weight while Anglo took more photos.

‘What is that?' Bowden asked,

‘Looks like a paw print,' Lydia murmured.

Anglo glanced back at Lydia with an annoyed expression. ‘Put her down now, Frank, I got it.'

Bowden lowered the girl's body down and Lydia shifted back a little, her hip bumping into a tray, the metal instruments rattling. She moved away, eyes studiously averted in case she copped more annoyed looks from Anglo. Eyes dropping to the tray, she examined the bullet that had ended the girl's life. The piece of metal sat in a small tray, covered in blood. A straight shot, through her back and right through the heart.

Ghosts of memories past tickled her mind, of her mother's warning to never go into the woods at night. Her mother had been an absent-minded wildlife scientist who had sat in her study all day, sipping ginger tea and pottering about her reports and journals, detailing the local wildlife, especially the dwindling Tasmanian devil population. She had never been specific about what danger Lydia should be afraid of, but rather hinted at something that hid in the darkness, a monster that called the forest shadows home. Lydia had always thought her mother had been worried about the risk of getting attacked by wild pigs. Staring at the bullet, she wondered if rather her mother had fretted about another kind of monster. The kind that wore its civility like a suit, slinking around the woods at night and searching for prey with a loaded gun.

‘Lydia?'

She gave a start, realising she'd been staring at the tray and the small bowl on it that contained the bullet that had killed the Jane Doe. A
silver
bullet, of all things.

She looked up to see Bowden give her a concerned look and she saw that Anglo had retreated to his office, bent over a desk as he filled out paperwork. A chill shot through her. She'd lost time. It had been months since the last time, an incident that had nearly seen her slam her car into a parked Volvo at the local shopping centre. She couldn't even remember what had trigged the event, just a memory of a black hole that had swallowed her whole.

Her lips thinned. She'd be damned if she was going to start taking medication again. It had strung her out, made her paranoid. Okay,
more
paranoid. She hadn't been sleeping much these days, and it had made her jittery. In the first week since she'd arrived at Camden, she'd slept nearly ten hours a night, then spent her days feeling like she was shot through with Novocain, wandering around her childhood house, trying to orientate herself with her new life. But then she couldn't sleep at all, and if she didn't get a good night soon she'd have to resort to sleeping tablets, the medication often leaving her thoughts sluggish the next day.

‘Lydia?' Bowden's voice was gentle. ‘Have you heard anything I've said?'

‘Sorry. I was lost in thought.' She gave him a reassuring smile. She had to look in control. Didn't want the senior sergeant to see her rattled in any way. After all, Bowden knew why she'd come to Camden and there had been more than a little hesitation in his approval of her application, but she had begged. Police work was what she knew and she couldn't imagine doing anything else.

Anglo came out of his office, turning the light off. ‘I'll send you my report tomorrow.'

‘Thanks Jacob.' Bowden gave a tired sigh. ‘I'm sure you can appreciate the need to figure this one out quickly, the whole town is spooked now.'

The small medical examiner ran his fingers over his moustache, eyeing Lydia. ‘You're sweating.'

Lydia tried to give him a bright smile. ‘I'm just tired.'

‘You sweat when you're tired?' Anglo exchanged a glance with Bowden and she wondered how much he knew about the reason why she'd come here. Surely Bowden hadn't said anything.

‘I'll be fine after some lunch.' Her smile widened. She hoped she looked reassuring, but from Anglo's suspicious look she doubted she was getting the job done right. ‘Maybe a strong coffee as well.'

‘You've read my mind, Lydia.' Bowden winked at her. ‘Come on, let's get this business at the Tanner farm over with, then we'll head back to the station. I'm supposed to be watching my weight, but I know of a place that sells cream buns that put a spring in a man's step, you know.'

Lydia tried to laugh, but the sound was forced and when Anglo's suspicious expression deepened, she stopped. Mumbling goodbye, she hurried after Bowden, following him out of the building.

The spring morning was fresh and clear, the sun casting a gentle glow over the green fields in front of her. The town's main road was two blocks away, and the landscape was alien and familiar to her at the same time, like a piece of clothing she hadn't worn in many years.

Bowden inserted a key into the ignition, then paused. ‘You sure you're okay?'

Lydia buckled her seatbelt. She wasn't sure she was okay, at all. But there was no sense in letting him know that.