Chapter 76: The Bait
Bernie voiced his concerns. "It's too dangerous to lure him out, especially since he's armed."
Theodore shook his head firmly. "He won't use a gun."
He gestured toward the cabins around them. "Look at the evidence. Whether it's this large cabin in the valley or that smaller one by the stream, the only modern tool we found inside was a single knife."
Felton wasn't a gun-free zone by any means, but here in these mountains, firearms were conspicuously absent. Not even a single bullet casing could be found anywhere.
"A hunter's home without guns or ammunition," Theodore continued. "That should tell us something important."
The Old County Police found this hard to believe.
Bernie nodded slowly, remembering their earlier search. There truly had been no modern tools in the large cabin, even the bed was covered with animal pelts, and crude wooden bowls served as dishware. The place felt like stepping back into some primitive era.
Theodore speculated that any guns had been deliberately discarded or buried by the killer. He then attempted to explain his reasoning to the Old County Police:
"This killer has a deep resistance to industrial civilization. He lives alone in these remote mountains, surviving entirely by hunting. He regards this entire area as his home and this land as his private territory."
"When someone intrudes into his territory, he has an instinctive violent defence mechanism. We are now trespassing in his domain."
The Old County Police stared at Theodore with growing confusion. He looked to Bernie for help.
Bernie tapped his temple and explained, using the 'mental illness' theory that Theodore had once shared with him during a previous case.
The Old County Police remained half-believing, half-doubting. He genuinely couldn't wrap his head around the concept. How could humans and animals be lumped together in the same category?
"It's because the killer has been isolated from society for an extended period and lacks normal human empathy," Theodore explained patiently. "In his mind, the difference between humans and animals is only a matter of the degree of threat they pose."
"Years of hunting have made him completely indifferent to taking life. When we search through his territory, he sees us as nothing more than a pack of wild beasts destroying his nest. Our human identity means nothing to him; we're just dangerous animals that happen to use tools."
Theodore's explanation seemed to have little effect on the Old County Police's understanding.
Burton, meanwhile, patted his coat pocket and tucked his notebook away. The flickering firelight was too dim for proper note-taking, and the circumstances weren't exactly conducive to documentation.
Theodore considered explaining further, but after a moment's thought, he abandoned the attempt. Instead, he laid out the situation more directly:
"The killer discovered we had entered his territory. He sees us as prey. He first attacked the team we sent out, arranged their bodies in a ritualised display, and used them to intimidate us."
The Old County Police's expression went rigid as he looked down at the corpses. He had been the one to suggest splitting their forces.
Bernie placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Theodore turned to Bernie. "When we grouped together to investigate, he immediately attacked you. He identified you as the leader of our party."
The Old County Police interrupted, reminding Theodore that the attack had actually been aimed at him and that Bernie had pushed him out of the way.
Theodore glanced at the Old County Police's greying temples and shook his head. "You were standing close together when it happened, and he was using a sharpened wooden stake, not a rifle. Achieving that kind of accuracy with a makeshift spear was already impressive."
The other reason Theodore believed Bernie had been the intended target was simple: Bernie was younger, stronger, and posed a greater physical threat than the Old County Police.
"It's an adaptation of pack hunting behaviour," Theodore continued. "Subdue the leader first to quickly cut off the group's command structure and throw the entire pack into chaos."
"But he failed."
"He'll attack again when our guard is down. You're still his primary target."
Theodore explained the typical hunting pattern: first drive the prey together, then cut off escape routes, harass them to exhaust their physical strength and willpower, gradually tighten the encirclement, and finally deliver the killing blow.
The Old County Police looked at Bernie again, feeling as though there was an impenetrable wall between himself and Theodore's way of thinking.
Out of all that complex analysis, he only clearly understood the final conclusion: the killer was targeting Bernie.
Bernie's expression grew serious. "If I go out there now, will he definitely attack me?"
Theodore shook his head. "Not necessarily. I can profile his personality and predict his likely next moves, but I can't guarantee what he'll definitely do. I'm not a fortune teller, I don't have prophetic powers."
The Chief wanted to voice their concerns. All of this seemed based on Theodore's speculation and felt insufficiently reliable.
He turned to look at his four remaining colleagues, who sat guarding the bonfire in a daze, apparently still not recovered from witnessing their comrades' gruesome fate.
Then he lowered his gaze to the two bodies at his feet, their chests carved open, lying in silent testimony to the killer's brutality.
Finally, he could only ask with a complex expression, "What happens if this plan fails?"
Theodore considered the question for a moment, then faced Bernie with grave seriousness.
"He'll collect your skull and display it in a place of honour. Since he believes you're the group's leader, a specimen made from a leader's skull would have special significance to a hunter."
The Old County Police and Bernie exchanged uncertain glances, unsure how to respond appropriately to such a grim prediction.
Theodore reminded Bernie not to over-mythologise their adversary.
He believed the killer must have used coercive methods to subdue the two messenger officers, perhaps holding one hostage to force the other's compliance.
At the same time, they shouldn't underestimate him either, and shouldn't rigidly assume he would always respond to situations according to predictable hunting patterns.
"He's human, just like us," Theodore said solemnly, tapping his temple. "Possibly even smarter than us."
He offered one final caution: "Don't try to negotiate with him."
Bernie nodded, accepting the warning with appropriate gravity.
Under cover from Theodore and the Old County Police, Bernie carefully checked his service pistol, confirmed everything was in working order, and the three men returned to sit by the bonfire.
The four younger officers with the round-faced man wanted to ask questions, but the Old County Police silenced them with a look.
Neither Theodore nor Bernie was in the mood for conversation.
Silence settled around the crackling fire.
After sitting there for over an hour, Bernie suddenly stood and walked toward the valley entrance.
His movement drew everyone's attention. One of the younger officers started to warn him against going out alone, but the Old County Police stopped the intervention.
Watching Bernie disappear into the darkness by himself, the Old County Police's expression was complicated and conflicted.
He glanced at Theodore beside him and found the detective calm and composed, showing no signs of concern for his partner's safety.
Tonight, he finally understood why they were called the twin detectives.
Bernie trusted Theodore's analysis unconditionally, and Theodore trusted Bernie's capabilities unconditionally.
Successfully hunting two prey had left Walter Jenkins intoxicated with excitement. He was particularly obsessed with that feeling, a rush that no other kind of kill could replicate. It consumed him completely, and he couldn't wait to experience it again.
But unlike four years ago, he wasn't impatient now. Instead, he waited with practised patience.
Soon enough, he was rewarded with another opportunity.
Someone had left the bonfire and was walking toward the valley entrance.
Walter lay concealed in the tree branches, watching the figure draw closer and closer. He hesitated slightly, suspecting this might be a trap. But when he saw who was approaching, his hesitation deepened.
His obsession with the hunt quickly swallowed that moment of uncertainty as he watched the approaching figure turn his back without any apparent defensive awareness.
This was the leader!
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