Chapter 13
ELLIE
The forest doesn't welcome me, but it doesn't chase me away either. It simply exists around me, dense and patient, like a library after closing time. I force my steps into an even rhythm, although my extra weight means I’m soon winded despite my easy pace.
"Just another assignment," I half-gasp, my voice barely above a whisper. The sound gets swallowed by the canopy overhead. "People disappear from hiking trails all the time. Document, analyze, move on."
Except people don't usually disappear from trails that lead nowhere.
I sweep my flashlight beam across the ground where a victim named Sarah Chen supposedly fell.
According to the police report, she tumbled down a steep embankment after losing her footing on loose rocks.
Simple. Clean. The kind of accident that happens when city people overestimate their outdoor skills.
But the terrain here slopes gently, almost apologetically. No dramatic drop-offs. No treacherous scree fields. Just soft earth carpeted with decades of fallen leaves that would cushion a tumble, not cause a fatal one.
I manage to bend down and brush away the top layer of debris. The soil underneath bears strange gouges—deep, parallel marks that don't match the pattern of a falling body. They look deliberate. Carved.
My pen scratching notes across the page.
"What the hell were you doing out here, Sarah?"
The question hangs in the air unanswered. I photograph the marks with my phone, the flash creating harsh shadows that make them look even more unnatural. The timestamp on the police report puts Sarah's disappearance at 3:47 PM on a Tuesday—broad daylight, perfect weather, visibility for miles.
Yet somehow, no one heard her scream even though she wasn’t that deep in the forest.
I stand and brush off my hands, scanning the area for anything else that doesn't fit. The official timeline has her entering the forest at 2:30 p.m. and being discovered missing when she failed to return by 6 p.m.
But there's a coffee shop receipt in her car dated 3:15 p.m.—thirty minutes after she allegedly entered these woods.
Unless Sarah Chen could teleport, someone got their facts wrong.
The forest noises stop all at once, like someone flipped a switch. I freeze, pen hovering over my notebook, suddenly aware of how loud my heavy breathing sounds in the unnatural quiet. Even the wind seems to have paused, leaving the forest suspended in a bubble of absolute stillness.
My footsteps crunch louder than they should as I move toward a cluster of pine trees where the police found Sarah's backpack.
But when I glance down, the leaves beneath my feet barely rustle.
It's as if the sound is being amplified and muffled simultaneously, fed through some cosmic audio mixer with a broken dial.
"Hello?" I call out, testing the acoustics.
The word dies three feet from my mouth, absorbed so completely it might never have existed. But somewhere behind me, a twig snaps with the clarity of a gunshot.
The flashlight beam cuts through darkness in erratic sweeps, and I force myself to breathe steadily despite the hammering in my chest.
Am I about to have a heart attack because of the size of my ass or the size of the axe murderer somewhere behind me?
Each step deeper into Ravenwood Hollow feels like walking into a trap, but the missing files won't explain themselves.
This time, a branch snaps behind me.
I freeze, listening. Wind through leaves. The distant call of an owl. Nothing else.
Except when I start walking again, there it is—the soft crush of footfall on dead leaves, perfectly timed to mask itself beneath my own movement.
You know if you have to run from anything, you’re big ass is screwed, right?
My pulse kicks up again. I stop abruptly and swing the flashlight in a wide arc. Tree trunks stand like sentinels, their bark silver-white in the LED glare. Empty spaces between them yawn black and endless.
"Hello?" The word echoes back, hollow and unanswered.
I count to ten before moving again. This time I vary my pace—three quick steps, pause, two slow ones. Behind me, the pattern repeats like a grotesque dance partner. Step, step, step. Pause. Step, step.
My throat goes dry. "This is ridiculous, Ellie. You're jumping at shadows."
But shadows don't breathe. And something behind me definitely just exhaled—a soft huff of air that carries on the wind.
The flashlight trembles in my grip. I swing it left, then right, desperate to catch whatever's out there in its beam. Tree. Bush. Rock. Nothing that shouldn't be there, but the wrongness clings to everything like humidity.
I back toward a large oak, pressing my shoulders against its rough bark. At least nothing can approach from behind now. The beam wavers as I sweep it across the clearing, and for one heart-stopping moment, I swear I see eyes reflecting back—yellow and predatory and far too intelligent.
"Shit, shit, shit." The words tumble out in a breathless whisper.
Movement explodes from the darkness to my left. Not toward me—cutting across my line of sight with purpose and speed that makes my knees go weak. Something large and solid crashes through the underbrush, and suddenly the oppressive weight of being watched lifts like a curtain pulled away.
"What the hell are you doing out here?"
I spin toward the voice, flashlight beam catching the familiar outline of Sheriff Hart emerging from between two pine trees. His jacket's torn at the shoulder, and there are leaves caught in his dark hair like he's been running.
Relief floods through me so fast it makes me dizzy. "Jesus, you scared me."
"I scared you?" He steps closer, and in the flashlight's glow his face looks sharp with concern. "You're wandering around the woods alone at night with—" He stops, glances around the clearing. "What made you think this was a good idea?"
"Research." The word comes out defensive, sharper than I intended.
Because, apparently, I hate myself.
"I'm following up on the disappearances. You know, that thing you've been so helpful with."
His jaw tightens. "This isn't the place for that kind of research."
"Says who?" I lower the flashlight so it's not blinding him, but keep it pointed in his direction. The relief is already curdling into irritation. "Let me guess—another one of those friendly local warnings about staying out of the woods after dark?"
"Something like that."
"Well, congratulations on your timing, Sheriff. Wrong place, wrong time, and all that." I gesture vaguely at the trees around us. "What's your excuse for being out here? Following up on reports of suspicious journalists?"
The thing—whatever it was—melts back into the shadows like smoke, leaving only the metallic taste of fear in my mouth and Caleb standing there with his hands still raised, as if he could shield me from the entire forest.
My flashlight beam shakes as I sweep it across the trees where the presence vanished. Nothing. Just empty darkness that feels too eager to swallow us whole.
"What was that?" My voice cracks on the last word, betraying how rattled I am despite my best efforts to sound professional.
Caleb doesn't answer immediately. He's scanning the treeline with the kind of focused intensity that suggests he knows exactly what we just encountered. His jaw works like he's chewing on words he can't quite spit out.
"Probably just a bear. They've been more active lately with the early cold snap."
"A bear." I let the words hang between us, flat and skeptical. "A bear that disappeared the moment you showed up."
He shrugs, but the movement lacks his usual easy confidence. "They don't like confrontation. Smart animals."
The adrenaline starts to ebb, leaving behind something more dangerous: clarity. I lower the flashlight so it's not blinding either of us and really look at him. His breathing is too controlled, his stance too ready. This isn't a man who stumbled across a damsel in distress.
"You followed me here."
It's not a question, and he doesn't pretend otherwise. Just nods once, curt and unapologetic.
"Why?" I step closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "And don't give me some bullshit about civic duty or keeping the peace. You've been avoiding me for days, treating me like I'm radioactive, and suddenly you're my personal bodyguard?"
His mouth opens, then closes. For a man who wields authority like a second skin, he looks remarkably lost.
"The woods can be dangerous at night."
"For tourists, maybe. But I'm not some Instagram influencer looking for the perfect autumn selfie." I gesture toward where the presence vanished. "Whatever that was, it wasn't natural. And you knew it would be here."
The silence stretches between us, filled with the sound of wind through bare branches and my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. Caleb's hands flex at his sides, and I catch a glimpse of something raw in his expression before he locks it down again.
"You should go back to town."
"That's not an answer." I plant my feet, channeling every ounce of stubborn determination that's gotten me through hostile interviews and evasive politicians.
"I've spent my entire career getting people to tell me things they don't want to admit.
You think I'm going to fold because you give me the sheriff stare? "