fun to have an outlet. Best gift the bastard ever gave me.” Affection in his voice, so real she might’ve believed it if she hadn’t already realized that Vincent put on emotions like other people put on clothes. “The hiker was really cute and she was all smiley and she said hello with that accent, and I had a rock in my hand and I just smashed her head in with it.”
59
Anahera flinched.
But Vincent wasn’t finished. “She didn’t die, not straightaway. She kept on trying to talk even though I’d smashed one of her eyes almost out, and only half her mouth was moving. I sat beside her for a long time, stroking her hair, and telling her it would be all right. My mother used to stroke my hair and tell me it would be all right.” A dreamy look to him. “After.”
“After what?”
A sly smile. “After my father tucked me in at bedtime like a good dad. A picture-perfect dad.”
Nauseated, Anahera said, “Did he—”
“Talking about them is boring.” Plastic smile, unwavering aim. “My hobby’s the interesting thing. After the hiker started gurgling blood, I picked up my rock and smashed her and smashed her and smashed her until her face was pulp.” He shrugged. “I know, not very sophisticated, but in my defense, I was only fourteen.”
“Why were you so angry at your mother that day?” Anahera whispered, realizing that though he chose victims who reminded him of his horrific first sexual experience with a woman, his rage came from a far different source. “What did she do?” Or not do.
“I don’t remember. And I told you”—he looked straight down his arm at her with eyes that held nothing—“talking about the bastard and his bitch is boring.”
Anahera changed tack. “What happened to the hiker’s body?”
“I finally realized I’d been an idiot.” Vincent made a face. “I hadn’t taken any precautions or made any plans. Dumb teenage lack of impulse control.” He smiled, asking her to smile with him. “Eventually, I dragged her off the path and covered her up with leaves. I figured she’d be found, but my pretty, smiley girl hadn’t logged her hike with anyone, was still there the next day when I came back with a shovel and an axe and a tarp. Do you know how hard it is to chop up a body? Blood and viscera everywhere.”
“You didn’t.” It came out a rough whisper.
“Scout’s honor.” Vincent grinned. “I took off all my clothes before I started, put them in a plastic bag; and I brought water to wash in. It took me hours to carry the pieces out in my daypack.”
“Where is she?”
“Buried in the bush behind the house. Cadaver dogs never came that far when they finally did a search.”
“Is that why you decided to target more hikers? Because they were less likely to be missed at once?”
He nodded. “I met the second one on the trail and she came with me when I said I could show her a secret local waterfall. I managed to get her close enough to my burial ground to keep all of her—and I didn’t use a rock that time. No broken bones.”
And Anahera knew. “The skeleton Shane found.”
“I dug her up after my dear departed parents weren’t around to spy on me, then spent weeks cleaning up her bones. I kept her in my basement workroom that Jemima knows never to go into.” Another one of those lopsided grins. “But that first summer, I was still a kid, took the third one too soon in the same area. After I saw how the cops swarmed, I decided I’d have to be clever, not hunt so close to my home ground.”
Anahera frowned. “Did you put the bracelet in our cave on purpose?”
“Yes. Showing off to my friends.” His smile faded. “I was sorry later, when none of you wanted to go back there to hang out.” Voice quiet, poignant with sadness. “I was happy in that cave.”
“I don’t understand one thing,” Anahera said, wondering if she’d imagined the flash of movement in the trees behind Vincent’s shoulder.
“What?”
“You must’ve had other victims between that summer and your first trip abroad on your own.” After killing three times in a single summer, Vincent couldn’t have gone dormant until he began traveling internationally. “And you pointed it out yourself—we live in a small country. Why did no one make the connection between all the victims?”
“I’ve never been stupid, Ana, you know that.” It was a chiding statement. “I sat