Chapter 3 #2
A man moves behind me, far enough, but close enough to feel wrong. My breath catches. Rain slips past the edge of my hood and streaks down my face. The hood slides back, exposing my hair to the rain.
I quicken my pace.
Daisy matches me instantly, her ears flicking back as if she senses it too.
The man speeds up.
So do I.
My pulse roars in my ears. I scoop Daisy up against my chest and break into a run, turning sharply toward the Ozark woods. My shoes slap against wet ground, and my glasses fog with every breath.
I don’t fear easily. But now I do, I am afraid. Because whoever is behind me is not slowing down.
My breath turns shallow. My chest burns. The path comes into view, darker and narrower, swallowed by trees. I reach it and spin around, heart still beating fast against my ribs.
But this time, the man is gone.
I scan the street just in time to see him running the opposite direction, disappearing back into the dark.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
My legs give slightly as I lower Daisy to the ground. I brace my hands on my knees and drag air into my lungs, each breath sharp.
You are being paranoid.
He was just a runner.
I repeat it until my heartbeat slows.
Still, the feeling does not fade.
Something is wrong. I can’t name it, can’t place it, but it presses against my thoughts.
We move deeper into the woods.
The trees thin slightly, allowing just enough light for the path to remain visible. The rain eases into a soft sprinkle, tapping gently against leaves and dirt. My hair is soaked now. The water beads on my glasses, blurring the edges of the world, but I don’t bother wiping them.
Halfway down the path, I stop and bend to free a small branch tangled in Daisy’s fur.
That’s when she ran to the right side of the trail.
The leash tears from my hand, the sudden force snapping my fingers back.
“Daisy,” I shout. “Daisy, stop.”
She turns hard to the right, disappearing off the path.
I run after her, heart spiking again, feet skidding as I dodge muddy puddles that were filled with rain.
The ground drops suddenly beneath me. I lose my balance and slide down into a lower area where a fallen tree lies half-buried in wet leaves.
Daisy is already there.
Barking at something.
My glasses slip from my face and hit the ground.
I reach for them blindly, blinking hard, forcing my eyes open wider as I push myself up from the damp earth. My vision swims for a moment, rain and darkness smearing everything together.
Then I see it.
Something lies beside the fallen tree.
“Daisy, come here, girl,” I say softly, keeping my voice low.
She runs toward me, and when she gets closer, I notice a dark stain matted into her fur.
My stomach tightens. I straighten slowly, fingers closing around the leash. I hold her back, keeping her close to my legs, and slide my glasses back onto my face.
I turn my head, and on the ground, there is the body.
It’s right there.
A woman lies naked on the ground, her back turned toward me. Her arms are stretched above her head. Her legs are spread unnaturally wide. Her eyes are open, glassy, and completely white. Her lips have faded into a deep, bruised purple.
Just below her neckline, pressed into her skin, is a single puzzle piece.
My breath leaves me in a sharp gasp.
“No,” I whisper. “It can’t be.”
I force myself to inhale. Then exhale. My hands move on instinct as I pull my phone from my pocket and dial.
“911, what’s your emergency?” a woman asks.
“I…” My voice is shaking. “I found a dead body. A woman. On a trail inside the Ozark woods.”
“Is she conscious or breathing?”
“No.”
“Have you checked for a pulse?”
“No,” I say. “She’s been dead for some time.” I swallow hard. “There is visible decomposition.”
A sudden gust of wind shifts direction. The smell hits me, thick and sour, crawling into my throat. I clamp a hand over my mouth.
“Okay,” the dispatcher says calmly. “I need you to stay where you are and not touch anything. Officers are on the way. We have your location.”
“Yes,” I say. “I’m staying back.”
“Are you alone right now?”
“Yes.”
“If you feel unsafe at any point, tell me immediately.”
“I will.”
“You can hang up now, ma’am. Officers will be there shortly.”
“Understood.”
I hang up the phone and don’t move from the spot.
I know how this works. Daisy and I will have to stay until they arrive at the crime scene.
I stay where I am, watching the trees, counting my breaths, waiting for the sound of sirens that never seem to come. When my legs started to go numb, nearly forty minutes later, two patrol officers arrived on foot. They couldn’t bring a car this far in.
Daisy moves beside me the moment she hears them. Her ears lifted. I tighten my grip on the leash before she can move.
The officers slow down when they see us. One of them nods to me before his gaze shifts past us, following the trail down toward the fallen tree.
They don’t rush.
“Ma’am,” one of them says, “you called us?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s the body?”
I point without looking. “Down there. By the tree.”
They exchange a glance and move past me. Daisy softly whines, pulling once at the leash, but I hold her back.
One of the officers stops short when he reaches the lower area. The other exhales through his nose, already reaching for his radio.
“Okay,” the first one says. “Yeah. I see her.”
They don’t touch the body. One of them crouches, looking at the ground around her, the position of her hands, pointing at the puzzle piece. The other steps aside and speaks into his radio.
I look down at Daisy without meaning to. The dark spot on her chest has dried, stiffening her fur.
Mud, I tell myself. It has to be mud.
“Ma’am,” the officer says, turning back to me. “Did your dog get close to the body?”
“She ran ahead of me,” I say. “I called her back as soon as I saw her.”
He nods, making a note of it, then they reach for the radio and ask for detectives to come in.
Detectives usually need an extra hour to arrive, and the coroner even longer. When I look down at my phone, it is already past 7:00 a.m. I need to go home and get ready for work.
“When can I go?” I ask.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to come down to the station to give a full statement,” one of them says. “My colleague will escort you to the car while I secure the scene.”
I exhale slowly. “Look,” I say, “I know how this works. I’m on the case with Detective Kade Rourke. The puzzle piece and the position of the body match Zayne Mercer’s most recent work.”
They laugh.
“Kade Rourke?” one of them says, still smiling. “He hasn’t been in service since his wife died. They pulled him off the case a long time ago. You can’t be working with him.”
I fix my glasses. “But I was called…”
One of them cuts me off. “I’m sure you were,” he says with a chuckle. “But we still need a statement.”
I look at them, then back at my phone, replaying every word I heard from the detective earlier. I should have noticed the inconsistencies. Grief clouds judgment, even professional judgment. I let it happen anyway.
“Very well,” I say. “Shall we go now? I have to see my patient in an hour.”
“You a doctor or something?” one of them asks as he steps closer, gesturing for me to move ahead of him toward the trail.
“Psychiatrist,” I say, pulling Daisy forward so she walks first.
I needed answers. I needed clarity, context, and confirmation. And now, even if it sounds irrational, the only person I can trust to give me those answers is the person who created the questions in the first place.
Zayne Mercer.