A serial killer is loose in the Angeles National Forest. He is savage, ruthless and unstoppable. No camper, skier or hiker is safe. Los Angeles County Deputy Sheriff Kent Wickham, who patrols the forest, is responsible for finding and stopping this vicious killer. He not only must battle a murderer, but also must fight elements within his own department to restore order to the most magnificent place in Los Angeles County. Kevin Wright Carney takes you inside a Los Angeles Sheriff's Department radio car and inside the life of a Deputy Sheriff. You will understand police work in a way that you never have before. You will be with the Sheriff's Department and join their quest to stop a human beast, The Beast of the Angeles.
The Beast of the Angeles
The Angeles Crest MurdersBy Kevin Wright CarneyAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2009 Kevin Wright Carney
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4389-3750-2Chapter One
The Snow Monster
The dome of the silver foil tent shone in the clear moonlight and reflected the sparkling white carpet of snow which covered the meadow in the clearing. It looked like a metallic igloo. Two pairs of cross country skis and their poles stuck vertically in the snow outside the zip-down door.
The giant black-bearded man in the fur trimmed leather parka was standing by the tall dark pine tree and could hear the sounds of two voices coming softly from within the tent. He felt the biting cold of the air on his cheeks and in his eyes as he listened. The snow and furry hood of his jacket muffled the male and female voices which sounded to him like the deep secret tones of a couple in love.
The giant breathed silently through a face devoid of expression as he heard gentle laughter rolling across the moonlit meadow. He released his hold on a pine branch which sprang back up, throwing freshly fallen snow to the night air.
Feeling like the tiger of the snows, he began padding softly toward the tent, his footfalls silenced completely by the animal skins in which he had wrapped his huge boots.
He could see the pines which ringed the clearing, the blackness of their snow-laden branches providing the circle of shadow in which he had waited.
He felt the snow begin to fall lightly on his face and heard the gentle wind stir the night air as he walked step by silent step closer to the little bubble of life in the clearing.
He could see the glow of the lantern filtering through the tent's zippered doorway and could smell the pungent odor of kerosene despite the wind.
Concentrating on silence and depth of his breathing, he came up to the side of the tent and listened more intently. He could feel the faint radiation of heat from the tent on his face and clearly heard the voices from inside.
The alto voice of the woman, "Paul, this is so cozy and exciting. I feel so warm cuddling up to you out here in the middle of nowhere."
Paul's voice, "Yeah, it feels good just to get away from that plastic life in the city ... Cell phones, emails and such. Emily, I am so sick of people. It feels so good to be alone together ... Or together alone ... You know what I mean ... No one around but you and me."
"Let's just let the rest of the world go away tonight Paul," said Emily. "It's our forest."
The giant could not explain the hackles rising on the back of his neck when he hear the words "our forest." He felt anger inside as he heard the sounds of gentle kissing coming from within the tent, and the sounds of heavy breathing, and the rustling of sleeping bags.
He waited until he heard the sound of gentle moaning from within the foil bubble. He drew the large Bowie knife from the sheath on his belt and looked at it. He saw the moon and snow shining off its blade, making a fine white line along the razor-sharp cutting edge.
He reached down the side of his right leg with the knife and cut the leather thong that was holding the animal skin to his right boot. The skin fell in a square patch on the snow, exposing his mountainous black boot with an inch-thick hard rubber grooved sole.
He transferred the huge knife to his left hand and cut the other thong with a snapping sound that was muffled by the falling snow.
He reached a gloved hand out to the top of the silver dome and gently grabbed the plastic tubular supports where they intersected in a cross. He could feel the round thickness of the plastic through his supple leather gloves.
He heard the sound of moaning increasing in frequency as the wind began to increase in intensity. Whiteness shone through his peripheral vision as the snow started to fall more heavily and the clouds moved in to shroud the moonlight.
He saw that now the sharp blade of the Bowie knife shone a dull gray in the new obscurity of the clouds, belying its deadly purpose, as the giant deftly sliced through the top of the tent and cut through the plastic cross, like it was made of butter.
He saw the silver foil cloth float to the ground like a blanket being thrown over two sleepy children. At first he saw only one lump under its folding protection.
From under the foil cloth he heard Paul's loud voice, "Dammit! The damned supports came apart!"
Then he saw the lump separate into two lumps which lay side by side under the collapsed tent. He saw the two coconut shaped heads under the cover as the two lumps lay, not moving.
Then he heard Emily's female voice laugh in a deep, throaty giggle.
"Very funny!" he heard Paul's voice in reply, "I suppose we could just lie here like this all night and catch on fire when the lantern explodes."
He heard the tent's material rustle as the long arm of the Emily lump reached across to Paul's chest.
She said, "The lantern went out. Why don't we just go back to what we were doing for a while ... Enjoying our forest."
The giant stepped on the foil surface which was beginning to be drifted in snow. He looked at the coconut, which he knew to be Paul's head and raised his monstrous right leg. With a swift crunching squish, he brought his giant boot to the ground and crushed Paul's head. He felt the hydrostatic pop through the sole of his boot.
He heard the second shrouded coconut laugh again, "What did you do Paul? ... Knock the heater over?"
The arm-shaped bulge started to move from Paul's chest to his head when the giant brought his boot like a sledge hammer on the second coconut and flattened it with a dark, wet SQUARSH!
The snow was blowing furiously, yet the giant felt perspiration on his body as he dragged his prizes, one by one, through the snow.
Droplets of blood, little red and white hamburger-shaped pieces of brain and small white fragments of skull bone fell silently into the snow and were lost forever.
Chapter Two
Kent Wickham
Kent Wickham looked at himself in the full length mirror of the locker room at Crescenta Valley Sheriff's station, and shook his head. He was so glad to be back to work, and felt lucky to be working the canyon car so soon after his return. But, he hated the cotton class "B" uniform he had to wear in the mountains of the Angeles National Forest. He preferred the crisper, neater class "A" woolen blend uniform.
He rolled the tan cotton sleeves down over his long underwear shirt sleeves and looked at the faded green and yellow shoulder patch. "LOS ANGELES COUNTY SHERIFF" it read in yellow letters around a yellow embroidered star and brown bear on a green, half-moon shaped patch. He dusted a piece of lint off of his forest green trousers.
He thumped on the front panel of his bullet proof Kevlar vest and winced in pain, as the bruised and only partially healed tissue of his chest screamed at him, and nearly took his breath away. He didn't want any of the brass to know about his pain. If they knew, they'd make him work the desk again, and he did not want that. He leaned a big hand against the thick, mirrored glass, and breathed deeply until the pain subsided.
He stepped back from the mirror and looked at himself again. He was six feet tall and had sandy brown hair. He noticed how his hair was thinning on top but just accepted it as another marker of the passage of time. He stroked his...
