He would put the note where the idiot-cops could find it without looking up their asses. He was still pissed as hell that the crime scene techs missed the original note four years ago with their piss-poor autopsy. He'd stuffed it in the girl's throat. Probably destroyed through sloppy forensics, confirming his suspicions that federal agents need only have a pulse to qualify for government service.
There would be no mistakes this time.
He circled slowly around this elegant, old neighborhood in Sacramento, searching for a place to leave his car where it wouldn't draw attention. Finally, he reached a dead-end area that abutted against the outermost portion of the park. He locked the car and checked the trunk once more.
The young woman's breathing was shallow, but the pulse at her neck thrummed steadily. Good. The man closed the trunk and took off on foot, skirting the perimeter of the gated park, looking for an entrance.
Security was extremely lax at the Samuel Brannan Community Park and Zoo. When the man approached the main gate, he had no trouble bypassing the code. He pulled the gate open and closed it behind him. The park was cool and dark, and the earthy smell of the animals in their cages assailed him as he crept along the black-topped path toward his destination.
The lions' habitat.
He peered beyond the railing into the abyss of the lions' cave. At this hour of the night, the animals slept or paced their cages on padded feet, housed quietly until the noisy squalls of gawking children intruded on their peace tomorrow morning.
No matter, he'd rouse the beasts for a special treat, a little night-time snack.
He retraced his steps, leaving the gate ajar. As he approached the patch of birch trees where he'd left his car, he paused and looked around, searched the area, alert to any indication that something was amiss. Silence cloaked the night. Not even the bark of a dog or the screech of a cat disturbed the quiet. The closest houses lay dark and noiseless at the other end of the curved, deserted street.
He opened the car trunk and looked at the young athlete still decked in running shorts. Not so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed any more, hmmm, Danielle? Tucking the edges of the thick carpet around the body, the man hoisted the girl onto his shoulder. Swinging the light load easily, he made his way back through the deserted grounds of the park.
Getting down the rocky incline of the lions' habitat was tricky. Good thing he was in top physical shape. He knew he looked weaker than he was and that suited him just fine. His natural stamina was one more secret he liked keeping.
Although the lioness and her cub were caged inside their cave for the night, he'd have no problem with that. He knew a great deal about locks. He placed the unconscious body carefully by the rock wall that separated the animals from the incline and the railing above where visitors watched. Tomorrow there'd be quite a show, rather like a circus. He glanced at the body and chuckled silently. Danielle in the lions' den – quite a Bible story here in Sam Brannan Park Zoo.
Carefully unwrapping the two-pound package of ground sirloin, he dug a hole in the center, pulled his latest note from his jacket pocket, and placed it inside the beef. He formed the meat into a large ball, the paper hidden at the center, and rewrapped the beef in the butcher paper. Laid it on the ground beside his backpack. He raised the girl's body into a sitting position, anchored against one of the rocky ledges. Pressing two fingers to the carotid artery, he smiled in satisfaction. A steady thread still pulsed there.
Now, where to cushion the ground meat? He lifted the jersey and smeared the sirloin over the soft flesh of the stomach. Then he extracted a vial of animal blood from his backpack. He dribbled the blood liberally over the chest, arms, and neck.
The Avenger stood back to survey his handiwork. That should do the trick. The woman, the lions, the meat. He'd rather arrange the tableaux when the sacrifice was awake, but that was an impractical wish. The important point was that the lions consume the meat and swallow the notes. And the police discover the location of them this time.
Now to let loose the animals.
He felt an overwhelming desire to blow a trumpet or signal the applause of an unseen audience. Damned shame so few people appreciated his work and his mission. There should've been a large crowd to view the spectacle. Some apocryphal, revelatory heralding before the commencement of the entertainment.
Never mind. Jackson Holt, the agent in charge last time, had bungled the job. This time he'd have to work harder.
He surveyed the scene and turned to the cages. By the time he finished fiddling with the lock, the lioness was sniffing quietly at the gate. Languid from sleep, she was still alert enough to gobble the hunk of ground beef that he dropped inside the bars. Good, the old girl was hungry.
The man hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder and slowly scattered a trail of the remaining meat into the arena. He eased backwards from the gate he'd left ajar. When he deemed it safe to turn his back on the animal, he ran like hell and clamored up the rock side to hang from the spiked iron railing.
A few moments later, the lioness ambled gracefully from the den, her magnificent sinews and muscles rolling smoothly beneath her pelt. Her cub trailed behind her. Within minutes they found the athlete's body and began to feast upon the rich sirloin smeared on her tender, vulnerable belly. The Avenger watched as the animals devoured the beef. Good, when the vets put the animals down, the autopsy would produce his message. He'd see if the authorities could extract meaning out of it this time.
The animals finished with the meat of the cow. And then turned to the meat of the young woman.