It may be the paranoia talking, but I definitely feel safer when I’m armed, Wyatt Sr. placed the revolver on the coffee table, and he started loading the fireplace with the logs that he carried inside. He placed pieces of tinder underneath the logs with a few pieces of coconut husk at the bottom. He lit a match and held it to the husk. The hairy fibers caught practically instantly, and the fire spread warmly over the logs. He stood up from the floor and walked to his liquor cabinet. He poured himself a large dram of single malt Scotch and sat down in his recliner as he watched the flames dance in the fireplace.
He opened one of the many books that he had on the table next to his recliner, but he couldn’t seem to focus on the words on the pages. His discussion with Ness was truly bothering him. What had she got herself into? He rubbed his forehead with his calloused hand.
Crack . . .
He heard a branch snap outside, and this sounded very close to the cabin. Wyatt Sr. quietly put his book down and retrieved his firearm. He walked quietly to the door and put his ear close to it. He knew going to one of the windows would be dangerous because if someone was outside and intended to harm him, they would easily see the movement of the curtains because of the light inside the cabin. Additionally, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to see anything in the darkness outside. Wyatt Sr. grabbed a flashlight in case he needed to move outside quickly and waited by the door.
Creak . . .
One of the floorboards on the porch sounded under the weight of someone moving slowly towards the front door. Shit, someone is actually out there, Wyatt Sr. strained to hear anything above the drumming in his ears. There was no doubt in Wyatt’s mind that whoever was moving toward the cabin intended to harm him. He was like a sitting duck in this cabin, and whoever was out there had the advantage of the darkness around them. He had to equalize the playing field. He quietly lifted the beam off the brackets and put it down as quietly as he could. He lifted his firearm and flashlight and swung the door open.
“Stop, you son of a bitch!” he screamed as the shadow disappeared into the tree line. Wyatt Sr. chased after the shadow. Being a retiree didn’t prevent him from staying fit, and now he was flying through the trees at a remarkable speed. Wyatt Sr. lifted his flashlight and shone it around the area. He couldn’t see anyone, and then he realized that he was standing in the middle of the woods with a flashlight that gave away his exact position.
“Idiot,” he scowled quietly and turned the flashlight off. Wyatt Sr. ducked low and moved quietly through the undergrowth. Being a hunter and being familiar with the area was quickly putting him at the advantage here. He moved behind a tree and strained his ears. Whoever it was that he chased had either run off or was being very still. He stayed put for several minutes, but he couldn’t hear anything. He knew that if he started moving now it would definitely give his position away. If he did move, he would need to move as quickly as he could back to the cabin. Wyatt Sr. took several deep breaths and then took off sprinting in the direction of the cabin. When he was moving through the tree line, he could see that the cabin’s door was still open.
“Damn it,” he cursed and ran inside with his gun aimed in front of him. He scanned the interior of the cabin and then shut the door behind him, placing the beam back into the brackets. The fire was burning well, but the lights weren’t turned on yet, which allowed for many places for one to hide in the shadows. He aimed his flashlight and scanned all of the nooks that might cover a person. Once he was satisfied that no one was around, he just needed to clear the bedroom. He moved quickly but quietly through the cabin and into his room. He scanned the corners and checked the closets. He got lucky this time, and he knew it. Wyatt Sr. exhaled a sigh of relief. Whoever it was outside must have taken off when he was chasing them. He walked back into the living room, placed his revolver back on the coffee table, and downed the remainder of his Scotch as he sat down in his recliner. “I hope they don’t come back again tonight,” Wyatt Sr. said out loud and rubbed his eyes.
Creak . . .
“Don’t worry, I never left.”
Wyatt Sr.’s eyes widened in terror.
“You didn’t check under the bed,” the voice whispered from the other side of the cabin.
20
Ness sat on her bed in the guest bedroom and looked through the En Passant folder. In total, there were 52 known victims of the En Passant Killer, and his victims ranged from young children to the elderly. He had no propensity toward particular victims, but what he did have was a strong inclination towards violence. The more he killed, the more deranged his killings seemed to become. Ness organized the folder in order, and although this folder didn’t include detailed reports of all 52 murders, it did contain enough for Ness to create an accurate timeline of En Passant’s killings. His first murders back in 1993 seemed to be primarily performed by shooting his victims. Although it is a violent way
