Andrew Kaufman: The Lion, the Lamb, the Hunted: A Psychological Thriller

The corpse lay on a flimsy stretcher covered by a thin, white sheet. Frank stared at the shapeless form for several minutes, preparing to view what was just beneath it. He grabbed the cloth; it felt cold against his clammy palm, as thick and heavy as a wet blanket. Then, he pulled the sheet back, revealing the head and upper torso. He cringed.

Witherspoon’s face looked so disfigured that Frank barely recognized it. The upper lip was busted open, a gash running vertically toward the nose, much like one sees in photos of children with cleft palates. But that wasn’t the worst of it. His left cheek was torn as well, leaving a large flap of skin hanging beneath it. As a result, the entire inside of his mouth was visible from the side, leaving, in effect, half his face missing—just teeth and jaw exposed.

Frank yanked the sheet back over the body and looked away toward the opposite wall.

Cameron didn’t say anything. He knew what Frank was feeling. He’d experienced the same thing earlier that morning when he first saw Witherspoon hanging from that shed, a strange combination of sadness and revulsion twisting inside him. The two emotions had not mixed well for Cameron, and judging by the look on Frank’s face, were not sitting well with him, either. This murder was so disturbing, so senseless, but most of all, so infuriating.

“What’s the timeline?” It wasn’t a question as much as a demand.

“Last time anyone heard from him was just before midnight,” Cameron replied. “They started looking for him around five when he didn’t answer his radio … found him around five forty-five. That’s all we have.”

Frank pursed his lips and nodded, expression stoic, eyes fixed back on the body. The way he folded his arms looked awkward, as if he didn’t know where to put them. “Got any theories?”

Cameron looked at his boss, then up toward the ceiling. His eyes appeared wet, and Frank couldn’t tell if it was from sorrow or exhaustion. He decided it was probably both. “I just don’t know, Frank. This goes so far beyond anything we’ve ever seen …” He paused, started to speak again, then shook his head in frustration.

Frank nodded toward the body. “There’s some kind of pathology at work here, you know.”

“The way he was put on display , ” Cameron agreed, the last word sounding as if he’d tasted something bitter. “Like the killer was proud of himself, showing off. Strung him up like some kind of prized catch.”

Frank looked up at Cameron. “The thrill of the hunt. A textbook case of sociopathic showmanship.”

“Yeah, but something else.”

“What’s that?”

“The weapon.”

“The hooks?”

“It shows he improvised, grabbed whatever was handy,” Cameron said.

“A disorganized kill.”

“Has all the earmarks.”

Frank lowered his gaze at Cameron, then furrowed a brow. “I see where you’re heading, and I don’t like it.”

“I’m not saying we could have the start of serial killer, but I will say one thing—there’s something about this that bothers me, Frank, really bothers me.”

“Well, yeah, judging by the way he was left—”

“More than that, even. It’s the killer’s motivation.”

“Motivation?”

“I’m willing to bet this wasn’t just about murder.”

Frank looked back down at Witherspoon’s body, then up at Cameron. “What else is there?”

Cameron paused for a moment. “I think he was sending out a message … and loving every minute of it.”

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Acknowledgments

When I sat down to work on my first book, While the Savage Sleeps , the biggest question on my mind was whether I could write a novel. It turned out I could, and thanks to you, my amazing readers, it exceeded all expectations. So this time around, the question seemed to have changed; now I found myself wondering if I could write a better novel.

It’s my nature to want to improve, stretch, and grow with each new experience, but for some reason this seemed different. I didn’t just owe it to myself—I owed it to you, my readers. After all, you were the ones who made the first book a success, who lent your unwavering support and enthusiasm, and you were the ones anxiously awaiting the release of this one. Simply put, without you, I wouldn’t have a career as an author. I don’t take that relationship lightly, nor do I ever lose sight of how important you are to me. To offer you anything less than my absolute best is something I could never consider.

And so it began: an irresistible concept, a fascinating main character, and a blank screen. Add some sweat and tears, some twists and turns, and the final product was a complex psychological thriller called, The Lion, the Lamb, The Hunted . Did I write a better book? I’d like to think so, and if emotional investment is any indication, then I’m pretty confident I did.

It’s funny where a novel can take an author, in both the figurative and literal sense. Admittedly, I’m a seeker; I love finding out things, and in the course of writing this book I found out a lot. I also found myself, once again, entering into worlds I never would have otherwise explored. Of course, that meant having to bug a lot of people for information, but as has always been the case, I was fortunate enough to meet people who were gracious and beyond helpful at every turn; to those individuals, I send my warmest and most sincere thanks. One side note, by the way, any inaccuracies in this book are my own—I take full responsibility. In addition to the experts, I also offer thanks to the many others who gave their love, support and good wishes as I struggled to write this novel. The words on these pages would not have been the same without the people who gave of themselves.

To Kelley Eskridge at Sterling Editing, a big thanks, not only for being a ridiculously talented editor but also for being a genuinely sincere and kind person. She catered to my every neurosis throughout this process, sometimes humoring me, sometimes encouraging me, and quite often sharing her depth of knowledge about writing, something for which we both share a profound passion. She made sure every word in this novel counted and helped make this book everything I wanted it to be. I have enormous respect for the people who do this often-thankless work because I also know how difficult it can be. To do it with constant enthusiasm and good cheer can’t be easy, and yet that’s just what she did.

To Patty G. Henderson at Boulevard Photografica for her amazing cover design and assistance with the interior design for the paperback version of this novel. She never fails to amaze me with what she comes up with—not only that, but she does it all with enthusiasm, excitement, and talent that blows me away every time.

On the technical side, thanks to Dana Lerner, LCSW, who was instrumental in helping me develop the many complex facets of Patrick’s character and personal struggles. With her knowledge, I was able to breathe life into him. Also of great help on this front was Dr. Byron Egeland from the Institute of Child Development at the University of Minnesota, who helped me gain a deeper understanding of child abuse and its devastating effects. He generously offered his knowledge so that I could portray Patrick’s tragic past and current battles in a realistic, meaningful way.

My sincere appreciation to Jeff Bell at the International OCD Foundation and Dr. Jonathan Abramowitz, Professor and Associate Chair of Psychology at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Their insight on Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder was, without question, vital to this novel. I wanted to present the issue in a compassionate, moving, and informative manner, and they helped me do it. I came away not only with new knowledge about OCD, but also with new respect for the people who suffer from this debilitating and challenging disorder. I hope I did them justice by portraying it through Patrick Bannister.