Sinister Read Free

the killer watched snow fall on the valley below. From up here, through the haze of white, it was possible to see the river, a dark snake winding toward the smattering of lights, hundreds of bulbs illuminating the snow-blanketed streets of Prairie Creek, Wyoming.
    A night owl screeched, and then there was quiet.
    He wiped the blood from the blade of his knife on his worn jeans and thought about what the future would bring. As he cleaned the sharp steel, a ghost of a smile crawled across his lips and the pleasant hiss of anticipation buzzed in his ears.
    No one knew.
    No one suspected.
    The girl had been dead a week and not a soul anywhere around was looking at him.
    Wind whistled through the canyon, rattling snow from branches, churning up white clouds, bringing the cold from the north. Good, he thought as he ducked between rocks to the hidden entrance of his cave where a campfire was already burning, black smoke billowing upward near the skinned carcass of a coyote dripping wetly against the rocky floor.
    This was a good kill.
    A kill accomplished with only his bare hands and his knife. He relived the first thrust of his blade through the coyote’s shaggy hide. Listened again to its howl of agony, its snapping teeth going still. That was it. The rush of the kill, the feeling of flesh surrendering, the life struggle that was about to come to an end, the shudder of death.
    He’d hunted animals for years, he thought over the hiss of the fire. But they were easy prey. Easily outwitted.
    Humans, though? They were the ultimate test, the supreme target.
    His thumb stroked the hilt of the knife as he recalled taking the woman. He ran his tongue over his lips at the memory: the suddenly limp body in his arms, blood flowing from her neck, shock in her eyes as she let out her last gurgling breath. Now he felt an erection begin to rise. She’d been so naïve: a bleating little lamb to the slaughter. Killing her had been child’s play. Disabling her car and luring her in, waiting for just the right moment for her to lean forward, her balance off, the way she’d fought him and then later, the smooth feel of the knife plunging through and running beneath her skin.
    Remembering brought a shudder to his large frame, but she was, of course, just a rehearsal for the main event.
    He’d hidden her body well. He’d gutted her atop a tarp, long after throwing her in his car, leaving no trace of blood in the parking lot. No one suspected. No one even seemed to know that she was missing. Poor Amber. That was her name, according to the California driver’s license he’d found in her purse.
    But now it was time to go to the next level. That’s why he was here. That’s what he’d come for. The Dillingers . . . their ranch spread out below him . . . their souls black ... their time near.
    He had to be extracareful now. Every kill had to count.
    Holding the knife above his head with both hands, he felt the power that came from the killing enter him, uplift him, send him to a higher plane.
    Do you feel me? he silently asked them, his prey.
    I’m coming for you.

Chapter Two
    Sabrina’s hands were full as she shouldered open the glass door of the Prairie Creek Animal Clinic. This morning she balanced a cup of coffee she’d grabbed at Molly’s Diner, her purse, computer case and the business mail she’d picked up from the P.O. box.
    “Oh, good, Dr. Delaney, you brought the mail,” Renee called. “Look what I found yesterday!” Waving an envelope from behind her desk, earbud already in place so she could answer the phones wirelessly, the clinic’s receptionist was already rearranging the pamphlets and business cards on the counter. Though it was a good ten minutes before the clinic officially opened, Renee’s computer monitor with the day’s schedule was glowing as Sabrina slipped inside.
    Sabrina paused on the mat to stomp the snow from her boots as the scents of antiseptic and disinfectant greeted her. Padded benches lined the walls,