He was the one who was paying attention to the imbalances. He was the one who'd realized the wrongs and who'd decided to correct them.
He was the one who was in tune with life, who understood its natural cycles.
He was the one who'd been chosen.
He was The Reaper.
Ahead, he saw a few buildings on the horizon. He was past the old, derelict farm and approaching its neighbor, a small and humble place with low buildings. The clucking of chickens carried to him in the air. He knew this farm, he had seen it many times in passing, but this was the first time he was treading its ground and heading inside.
He couldn’t wait for the date with destiny, the meeting that should have happened long ago but which this woman had somehow managed to avoid. It was time to make sure that she accepted her fate, and in a strange way, the Reaper felt he was just part of the process that had been briefly interrupted, and which would now continue on its natural course.
He kept to the track that bypassed the farm buildings, which he knew was used by many of the workers traveling between farms. He didn’t want to be seen, because death should creep up unseen, until the time was right for the final meeting.
Satisfied that he was on the right path and that he was about to complete another part of his mission, he quickened his pace.
He had reached his next destination. The place where another life-light would fade, and another imbalanced soul would be released from its battered shell.
The Grim Reaper passed by the buildings on his left and continued toward his goal. He knew that it was not yet time, but that he needed to be in place for when it was. This was where he would wait, hiding patiently, still and quiet. Breathing. Feeling every breath in his body, every beat of his heart.
Nobody saw him as he passed. Nobody noticed a simple, humble farm worker carrying a tool.
He was invisible, he thought, as he headed toward the place where he planned to hide.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
May drove down the sand road that led to the small farm where Professor Leonard Bright, environmental extremist and issuer of threats, could be found. The afternoon was swiftly darkening to evening, but in the dim light, May could see her surroundings, and they didn’t look welcoming.
It looked as if this property was rundown, May thought, as she took in the long, straggly grass and the overgrown pathways, the crooked trees and crumbled fence posts.
Or perhaps this was all part of a rewilding project, and this man objected to trimmed grass and an ordered environment, she decided, needing to get into his mindset and understand how he thought.
"It's quite messy here," Owen observed. "You think he's keeping it deliberately untidy, May? Or has he just run out of money for tractor fuel?" Owen sounded thoughtful, as if he was considering all possibilities, and May felt glad they were thinking the same way in analyzing this man's behavior and motives.
The killer they were seeking definitely thought in a different way. He was not a normal member of society, and that made May feel like they might be on the right track in this case.
The person they were looking for was in no way a normal member of society. This person was highly antisocial and May wondered if he somehow thought of himself as being a figure of death, in a symbolic way, by wielding this weapon.
Or perhaps he was just using a scythe because it was easy to carry in plain sight in a farming community without anyone noticing. Maybe she was reading too much into this.
They headed up the bumpy drive until the house came into sight. May was surprised to see it was no more than a simple, small trailer.
Undoubtedly, this man was minimizing his footprint.
A steel bicycle propped against the trailer's wall clued her that someone — probably Professor Bright — was at home. Did he even have a car, she wondered. This trailer was midway between where the two victims had been killed. Professor Bright would not have needed a car, and could have cycled to the scenes. That was something to consider.
She stopped the car and turned off the engine, then sat and considered their options for a few moments. They were about to confront a potential killer.
She glanced at Owen.
"This is either going to be very simple and we can rule him out, or highly dangerous and he’s the killer," she said. "I guess we'll just have to see when we get face to face with him."
But at that moment, she rethought her theory about Bright not having a vehicle, as behind her, she heard the thumping of a big, heavy SUV, approaching fast along the dirt road. Headlights blazed down the hill, turning along the track and heading for the trailer. It was powering over the rocky ground at a fast speed, slamming against the potholes and ruts in the drive, sending up clouds of sand.
"What's going on?" May murmured to Owen. "Is this the professor?"
She didn’t think it was. She didn’t think that Professor Bright, with his extreme environmental credentials, would drive such a gas guzzler. And something about the aggressive speed at which it was arriving was prickling her instincts, and not in a good way.
Owen shook his head. "May, I don't know what's happening here. But I'm wondering if we should maybe get out of sight fornow? Just until we see who's coming in here. Your car doesn't look like a police car, but we look like police in our jackets. It might not be a good idea to look like police until we have seen who this is.”