If that were the case, wouldn’t there be bite marks? There wasn’t a single ruffled feather. It looked as if someone had snatched it from midflight, twisted its head around, and simply dropped it. It couldn’t have been dead long because there weren’t even any bugs around it.

Nudging it aside with his sneaker, Andrew moved it deeper into the foliage. Feeling its tiny weight against his shoe made his skin crawl.

Despite the fatigue and cramping in his legs, he broke into a slow but steady jog. He wanted to get the hell off the trail and back into the cottage.

As he hurried to the cottage, he spotted more birds along the path, birds that he had passed earlier but somehow missed. There were sparrows and blue jays, even a lone, crimson cardinal. Their tiny, stiff-as-a-board bodies had been scattered along the path like breadcrumbs.

Or birdseed.

The sweet stench of rot curled into Andrew’s nose.

He saw the cottage between the trees and almost cried out in relief. Pushing harder, he kept his eyes riveted to the house, having had his fill of dead birds.

He spilled out of the trail, jogged to his car, and leaned against it, catching his breath.

There was one final bird placed in such a way, it was if the killer had anticipated his decision not to look down at the killing field.

A crow, its black feathers golden tipped from the sun, had been impaled on a broken branch on the tree opposite him. Something pink and wet stuck to the end of the jagged branch. He was no vet, but he’d bet it was its heart. Its cold, dead eyes seemed to stare at him, into him. Andrew refused to break its gaze, his legs gone numb.

* * *

“Seriously, Andy, what the fuck?”

Ryker and Andrew stood before the spiked crow, arms folded across their chests. He’d gotten his brother-in-law out of the house as quietly as possible. Nikki had been in the bathroom, Kate still asleep. Andrew didn’t want the women to know what had been left for them.

Because no one could convince Andrew this wasn’t a message.

“The cop we spoke to said he was pretty sure he knew who had been making noises and stuff around the cottage at night. He was going to find them and tell them to back off. I guess this is their way of telling me they don’t like having the cops called into this.”

“Well, you have to get the cops out here now. This is sick.”

“That’s not all. Follow me.”

Before getting back on the trail, Andrew found a stick and pried the crow loose. It hit the ground with a hollow thump, rolling under a bush and mercifully out of sight.