But as he looked around, noting the various markings and mentally comparing them to the last crime scene, he noted one crucial difference. The attacker—or attackers—were getting sloppy.
He could not leave any evidence of his kind, even if they were his foe. He had an obligation to The Order and a duty to protect those he loved. That meant keeping their species hidden at all cost.
Random drops pelted the dry leaves of the trees until a rushing spray of rain showered down. Cain stood silently, watching as the clay ground softened and water rose over its surface. Imprints faded and puddles filled gullies. Underground creatures burrowed deeper below the earth, where it was dry.
Cain commanded the rain to wash away all evidence and by the time he left the woods, his clothing was soaked through. The storm followed his progress, removing any traces of him being there. Once he reached the bottom of the mountain, it was dawn.
He walked to a visitors’ pavilion where a few vending machines stood and a small kiosk held brochures. Helping himself to one of the tourists’ guides, he sat on a bench where the sun would first shine and waited. It wouldn’t be long. If he stayed put, she would eventually show.
A few hours later, his clothing had dried to nothing more than a slight dampness that clung to parts of his skin. He fixed his shirttail and adjusted his belt. Long gone were his Amish suspenders and hat. He much preferred the lackadaisical dress of the English.
At the sound of the news van approaching, he moved over to the kiosk and pretended to examine his brochure. The large vehicle, with some sort of towering satellite peeking from the roof, parked close to the pavilion. The sliding door swished.
“Todd, I want to get the shot over here today. I think the light will be better.”
Bingo. Just as he predicted, she showed up, bloodthirsty for a story and lacking any sign of compassion for the lives that had been lost or that another corpse lay only a hundred yards away.
The reporter and the cameraman moved to the optimal area for the shot. While the man readied the equipment, the reporter looked over some notes and then applied a red gloss to her lips. She was much smaller in person than she appeared on television.
Once the camera was set up, she stood in front of it, holding her microphone and waited. She touched her ear, and Cain realized she must have some sort of device in there that allowed her to communicate with someone unseen.
The light on the camera switched from red to white. With a final nod, she straightened and blanked her expression.
“Thank you, Michael. We are here again in the mountains of Jim Thorpe where another victim has been reported missing after venturing into the woods three days ago for some recreational hiking. While the trails of Jim Thorpe are known for their beautiful fall foliage and ideal peaks for bird-watching, the local police department has issued a press release advising all visitors to travel in groups and be extremely cautious while visiting the sights.
“Local merchants are not enthusiastic about the negative press their town is receiving. They claim a notable dip in retail trends in comparison to last fall’s records. Unfortunately, there is nothing to be done to alter the circumstances so long as whatever is preying on these once-welcoming hills remains at large.
“Police are asking that if anyone has seen or heard from a Ms. Kate Lynn Hobs to please contact the number at the bottom of the screen. Ms. Hobs is twenty-eight, average height, approximately a hundred and twenty pounds, with medium-blonde hair and brown eyes. She has been missing for three days and was last seen purchasing some last-minute items at a convenience store four miles from here.”
The body in the woods matched the woman’s description. It somehow made it worse knowing the female’s name. He needed to find the creature in the woods and destroy it before another person went missing.
Remaining in the shadows, Cain watched as the woman finished her report. As the light on the camera returned to red, she touched her ear as if listening for something, then said, “That’s a wrap.”
She passed the microphone to the cameraman as he carried the equipment back to the van. The reporter retrieved a water bottle from the ground. As she sipped from the bottle, she casually looked around.
He gave her a mental push to come and talk to him and waited as she screwed the cap back on her water bottle and slowly walked toward him.
“Hello,” she said, pausing a few feet away. “Are you planning on hiking the trails today?”
Cain casually tucked his brochure under his arm and faced her. “Perhaps. You’re that reporter, Destiny Santos, right?”
“That’s right. You just missed my story. I could’ve gotten you an interview on camera.”