“Rabbit,” Thomas stated. “Partially skinned. Right beside the tail of the plane. Spread out like it should be nailed on a cross.”

“That’s fucking twisted.” Ryan gagged.

“What do you mean partially skinned?” Alex could barely speak.

“Just skinned the front legs. Must have run out of time.”

Vomit crawled up Alex’s esophagus, and he forced it back down. Two of the nurses killed by Besand had been found in the same state; Besand had only skinned their arms. He’d later told Alex it was harder work than he’d expected and that he’d only done it out of curiosity and to freak out the investigators. Alex believed him. Once his victims were dead, Besand was finished.

He wasn’t into trophies or getting off with dead bodies. It was the thrill of the kill he craved. Once his hunger was satisfied, he usually threw the remains away like garbage.

Besand was sending a message to Alex, reminding him of what he was capable of doing to a woman, payback for his smart mouth during the phone call. I pissed him off, pushed too hard.

Alex buried his head in his hands, swallowing hard, trying to get the photos of the two dead nurses out of his mind.

“He did that to a couple of his vics, didn’t he?” Jim asked.

Alex nodded, lifting his head. It weighed two thousand pounds. “He’s gotta be staying in the cockpit.” He couldn’t let him near Brynn.

“He wouldn’t survive anywhere else,” Jim stated.

“Do we need to go down there?” Thomas made a gesture to his jacket. To his gun.

“In the pitch-black night?” Alex countered.

“We’ve got headlamps,” Jim offered.

“You mean targets on our foreheads. We can’t get close to him with those things on. For all we know he’s also got a little protected place in the woods where he watches every move we make.”

“He can’t be sitting in the woods. He’d freeze,” Ryan said flatly. “He can’t be watching us all the time.” He shook his head. “The guy can’t be dressed for this weather. He couldn’t have been prepared for this. How’s he doing it?”

“Unless he found one of our packs,” Thomas spoke up. “Could be using one of the tents.”

Ryan shut his mouth with an audible snap, and the men stared at one another.

“That has to be it,” Jim muttered. “It has to be. Now what’s he going to do? Will he hide out? Come after us? What’s the best way to protect ourselves?” He glanced at Brynn, who was talking in the cargo area to Liam and Tyrone. The three were unaware of the other conversation. And the rabbit.

One man injured and one man sick. And Brynn. Alex leaned his head against the leather headrest. Besand probably had food, extra clothing, and a tent. Alex hoped the tent was freezing and miserable. What now?

“I need to think. I know what makes this guy tick. Just let me think for a few minutes.”

The men all sat silently.

Alex couldn’t get Brynn out of his mind. “For right now, I think we’re OK in here. The dog twitches every time she hears something outside. I don’t think Besand will attack the plane. He’s blind to what’s in here. He’s not stupid enough to come through the entrance.”

“Would he pick us off as we exit?” Ryan asked quietly.

Alex flattened his lips. “What’s the fun in that? That’s not his kind of move. He likes to look you in the face, taunt you first. I can’t tell you how many times he complained about this one old guy who died from a heart attack or something while Besand was working him over. Made him furious. He gets off on the pain. He hates it when it’s over too quick.”

“Yeah, I feel safer now,” Ryan muttered.

“So what’s he going to do next?” Jim’s voice dropped. He met Alex’s eyes with a look that showed total belief in Alex’s opinion about the game in Besand’s head. Alex appreciated Jim’s confidence. He really wanted Jim’s respect.

“He wants me,” Alex stated, meeting each of their gazes.

“And Brynn.” Jim shifted his feet, glancing to the back of the plane again.

“Maybe. He may have said that just to dig at me.” Alex lied. Brynn was just Besand’s type. Tall, athletic, natural beauty.

Jim’s face said he knew Alex lied.

“I can pull his attention away, get him following me. Then one of you following him.” This was met with silence. No one protested; no one shook his head. They all weighed his words.

“Anyone got a better idea?”

Alex felt as obvious as a bright-blue candy wrapper lying in a white field of snow. He left his hood down, wanting to hear the sounds of the forest. The wind had let up overnight and he physically felt the absence of the constant whistling and rustling. It was like his ears were clogged. He pulled on an earlobe and swallowed hard several times, but nothing changed. He wasn’t congested; there truly was a lack of sound.

There wasn’t a lack of snow. Huge, soggy flakes fell. With the absence of wind they fell perpendicular to the ground, creating a white curtain that offered Alex a false sense of security. It also made studying the area around him difficult.

He’d been out for several hours, checking the terrain farther down the southern slope, knowing Thomas was tailing him far behind, looking for signs that Alex was being followed. Alex had trudged far enough to hear the rush of a river far below the trees. Curious, he’d worked his way down to its banks. It was a different river from the one they’d crossed that first day. This one was farther south. And, of course, they were several thousand feet above the location where they’d crossed the other. Where Brynn was almost hit by a wooden missile.