Primal Obsession by Susan Vaughan Page A

freakin’ way. The fact that the asshole had stopped phoning her raised hairs on his nape. Maybe he’d use the police radio again to try to raise the canoe party.
    “One more thing,” continued the special agent. “His methods have been fully developed from the first killing to the last. The only exception has been the switch to a knife instead of a rifle. I think he needed more of a challenge.”
    “Or more...stimulation? Gratification?” the chief asked.
    “It fits,” Tavani agreed.
    “You said the Hunter’s intelligent. Do you see any significance beyond that in the organized MO?” Justin asked.
    “He’s too organized, that’s what. I’ve already got VICAP researching what I suspect.” Tavani tucked his profile sheet back in his briefcase. “These six women aren’t this killer’s first murders. He’s done this before.”
     
    ***
     
    Northern Maine woods
     
    At nearly five o’clock, Sam led his canoe group to the sandy shore of the new campsite, a densely wooded spit of land at the outlet of the Eagle River.
    The hornet incident had ended without too much damage. Everyone had received a few stings, but Nora and Annie had been the insects’ primary targets. The swelling on Nora’s stings had diminished, but Annie’s arm was still red and puffy. She insisted it was only a minor reaction, and she had an antihistamine cream for it.
    While Nora and the others had submerged themselves in the lake, Sam removed the nest with a long stick and tossed it into the woods. The swarm of insects followed their nest.
    Blustering like a manager after an umpire’s bad call, Carl demanded an explanation. Everyone looked to Sam, but he’d had no answers. Only questions. How did the hive land in the tent? The flap opening was in front, not on top. Damn, what next?
    Annie and Nora set up their tents in a grassy area to one side, leaving the males the other.
    Just as well. She was a classy female, a pampered urbanite with a lot on the ball. His life was in the woods. They had nothing in common, and he needed to remember Ben’s caution against mixing business and pleasure. He ought to leave her alone.
    But, damn, he liked her feisty attitude, and just looking at her dialed up his lust-o-meter.
    After supper, Annie took out her tablet. He caught a glimpse of the word Hunter on the screen. He understood her grief for her friend, but such an obsession could take over a person’s life. He ought to know.
    The others sat around the table rehashing the day’s challenges and comparing sore muscles. Ray and Frank were comparing tactics in an electronic game involving amoebas and miniaturized robots. Too techno-gizmo for him.
    “We’ll have a change of pace tomorrow, team. We keep heading down the Eagle to the caretaker’s cabin. You’ll get a kick out of Ted Wolfe. He retired from his game warden’s job to oversee this wilderness. He checks on the campsites and watches for poachers.”
    They appeared too zombie-tired to do anything but nod. Annie never looked up from her screen. Carl poked at the fire. Ray and Frank went back to their game discussion. Nora didn’t participate, but looked on with approval at her son’s animation.
    Sam had planned some stargazing for tonight, but everyone needed a break. Including him. He had to pull himself together, to mull over plans for the rest of the expedition so they had no more days like today. When he thought no one was looking, he slipped away.
    Annie watched Sam melt into the trees.
    She’d expected him to hassle her about her tent site, but his reticence continued. His whole demeanor changed. No flirting, no double-entendres, no devilment in those burnt-sugar eyes. Whatever ate at his soul sidelined his charm.
    Forced retirement from the Major League had hurt deeply. She imagined the headline: Wild Pitch Ends Promising Career. He suffered a loss of identity, a wound more painful than physical injury. So he had to prove himself again. Today’s bushwhack was less than a