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"Survival of the fittest," he murmured, an approving smile playing at the corners of his lips.
The distant murmur of voices eventually pulled the man's attention from the grisly scene.He swiveled the binoculars toward the commotion, his eyes narrowing as they settled on the graveyard across the road.Yellow caution tape fluttered in the wind, creating a barrier between the curious onlookers and the frenzied activity within.Police officers swarmed the area, their faces etched with grim determination as they worked alongside forensic experts who carefully combed through the evidence.
News vans were parked haphazardly along the edge of the graveyard, reporters jostling for position as they prepared to broadcast the latest developments to a captivated audience.
Must be quite the event,the man thought, feeling the irresistible pull of intrigue tug at him.A whole family murdered at once.I wonder what they make of the graveyard and the nooses.
He longed to get closer, to immerse himself in the chaos and see first-hand the fruits of his labor.But he knew better than to take that risk.
"Patience," he reminded himself, tightening his grip on the binoculars."Soon enough."
The sense of danger, however, only heightened the thrill, driving him to push the boundaries of his own cautious nature.He felt alive, invigorated by the knowledge that he was playing a high-stakes game with life and death as the prizes.
It wouldn't hurt to get a little closer, would it?Maybe join the crowd gathered at the caution tape?It wasn't as if the police would be able to identify him just by looking at him.
"Ever seen a black rosy-finch?"a voice asked, shattering the man's focus like fragile glass.
He lowered his binoculars to see an old man with a cane in front of him, dressed in khaki cargo pants and a faded green windbreaker.His thinning gray hair was swept back from a weathered face that crinkled with enthusiasm as he spoke.He seemed pitifully weak and feeble—a stark contrast to the powerful grace of the hawk that had held the man's attention moments ago.
"Uh, no," the man replied tersely, trying to mask his disdain for the intrusion."Not yet."
"Ah, well, they're quite the sight!"the old man said, his eyes lighting up with excitement."Not that you're likely to see them around here."He chuckled.
The old man gestured at the birdwatcher's guide lying on the bench beside the man."If you don't mind me asking, what species are you hoping to spot today?"
The man with the binoculars glanced down at the book, its spine uncracked and pages pristine.He hadn't bothered to open it; he only needed it as a prop to blend in while observing the aftermath of his gruesome handiwork across the street.
"Um, I'm not sure," he admitted, forcing a sheepish grin."I'm new to bird watching and just trying to learn as I go."
"Ah, I see!I remember those days."The old man's face softened as he leaned against his cane, looking lost in memories."You know, I started bird watching back when I was just a lad.It's been a lifelong passion of mine.Since then, I've seen some remarkable birds—the elusive ivory-billed woodpecker, the vibrant resplendent quetzal, even the enigmatic snowy owl."
The man grudgingly listened, each word from the old man feeling like a needle pricking at his patience.His gaze flickered between the man's wrinkled face and the graveyard beyond, aching to return his attention to the crime scene.But he knew he couldn't risk being anything but polite; arousing suspicion was not an option, not here.
"That reminds me," the old man continued, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he recalled an incident from years ago."There was this one time I was out looking for a black rosy-finch, and I spotted one right at the top of a tall fir tree."
He laughed, his voice shaking with age and mirth."Well, I was so excited that I didn't notice I'd backed myself up into a thicket of blackberry bushes!The more I struggled to get free, the more entangled I became."
The man clenched his jaw, feeling his last shred of patience snap.The old man's laughter grated on his nerves, and he could no longer bear listening to the endless chatter.He interrupted just as the story neared its punchline, his voice cold and firm.
"Look, I came here for some quiet time, not to listen to stories from a stranger.I'm sure you have plenty of interesting tales, but I'd rather be left alone, if you don't mind."
The old man's laughter died abruptly, replaced by a hurt look in his pale blue eyes.He studied the other man for a moment, as if searching for any hint of remorse or kindness beneath the harsh exterior.
"Wasn't trying to bother you," the old man said, sounding a bit offended.He seemed to study the man more closely than he had before, his eyes narrowing as if he suspected something wasn't quite right.
"Bird watching, eh?"he murmured."And what inspired you to give it a try, pray tell?"
The man's face flushed with a mixture of guilt and anger.He could sense the old man becoming suspicious of him, and he knew he had to come up with some sort of explanation for why he was in the park.He tried to keep his voice calm as he replied.
"Well...I had some free time and wanted to try something new."He forced himself to look away from the old man's gaze, pretending to be preoccupied by scanning the trees for birds."I figured it would give me an opportunity to get out into nature more often."
"A nature lover, are you?So it wouldn't have anything to do with the graveyard, would it?"
At the mention of the graveyard, the man's pulse quickened.All it would take was for this old to shout to the police across the road, and they would come running.Even if the man was able to talk himself out of the situation (there certainly was no proof he'd been involved in the murders), they would see him—and that could cause problems later on.
No, he needed to deal with this before anyone else got involved.
I wish I could just hit him over the head with these binoculars,he thought.If only we were alone…
