CHAPTER SIX

The hunter gripped the steak with his tongs and flipped it over to sear the other side. He was rewarded with a loud sizzle and the pleasant aroma of the fat melting within the meat. He'd taken the buck the night before just outside of his cabin. The meat was some of the best he'd ever taken from elk, sweeter and more tender than the moose he'd caught last month.

When he finished with the sear, he lifted the steak to the upper rack of the grill and left it to cook. As he checked the carrots and potatoes in the stockpot on the other side of the long, wood-burning grill, he reflected on his other hunts.

He'd been worried about Ethan. Valerie was a superior survivalist, but she was also predictable. He knew the exact steps she took every time she visited her cabin, even down to where her feet would fall. That's why it was so easy to place the snare and why he didn't bother with a bear trap or a firearm. Well, that and the terrain and cabin layout wasn't conducive to another trap.

Valerie's habits were built from long weeks living off of the land. She had a deep understanding of how to set herself up for long-term survival and that meant obtaining her resources in a specific order. Shelter first, then fire, then water, then protein, then vitamins and nutrients. It was easy to know the basics of all of that but very difficult to know how to apply that understanding in the real world.

Of course, she took it to an extreme, planning every single detail out down to the moment. That rigidity, that unwillingness to accept different points of view, or anything that differed even the slightest amount from "the way things are done," was ultimately what got her killed.

It was so easy to lure her out there, so easy to convince her that her estranged lover had reconsidered her life and wanted to get back with her and live the way "nature intended." Once the message was sent, it was only a matter of time.

But Ethan was more difficult. He was more of a casual outdoorsman, the kind of person who might travel for a weekend but might also show up out of nowhere somewhere hundreds of miles away or who might decide to overnight a hike. More importantly to the killer, he might show up to his cabin with a backpack full of rations, a radio, a satellite phone, a gun, and on one notable occasion, a woman. Or he might show up with the clothes on his back and a knife and live off the land.

He never lived off of the land for long. He was a reasonable hunter, but he wasn't a survivalist. He didn't have the intuition that a true outdoorsman had. That also worried the hunter. Valerie could be counted on to leave for weeks, so no one would miss her if she left. Meanwhile, if Ethan was gone for more than a few days, plenty of people would start to wonder.

That couldn't be helped, though. He had to get his revenge. They had earned this, and if the hunter was anything, he was fair.

He took the steak off of the grill and cut into it. The juices ran deliciously over his knife, and steam rose, filling his nostrils with the heady aroma of prepared meat.

Medium-rare. Perfect.

He left the meat to rest and checked the vegetables. Soft with just the slightest hint of crunch. He took the pot off of the grill and carefully drained the water into the basin. Steam filled the air, and the lye bubbled and frothed as it reacted with the water, dissolving the soil and the blood and rendering his clothing clean again.

He smiled as he watched this. It was like cleansing his past. It was as though it never existed.

He had a few more stains to take care of. The next one would be the leader of the little group that had decided to foolishly reject the hunter's contribution. He'd silenced the loudest voices calling for his dismissal. Now he would silence the person who by her own silence had allowed those voices to triumph.

This one would be easy, too. She'd dug her own grave. All that remained was to convince her to step inside of it.

He sent the pictures, and following those, he sent the warning. Then he sat down to eat.

The meat was as tender and juicy as the first steak he'd eaten the day before. The elk were wonderful this season. The warm summer combined with the unusually cold winter had left the meat sweet and soft and well-seasoned. He wondered idly if bear would be similarly tender. He preferred black bear when possible. They ate more berries and less meat. That made their meat sweeter than brown bear meat. They were also harder to find during winter. Maybe when this was over, he'd take a trip inland and see if he could find any stray young males who'd eschewed hibernation in favor of gleaning what the larger bears had left behind in their slumber.

His phone buzzed. He read the message and smiled. The trap was laid, the prey was lured. Now, once more, all he had to do was wait.