Chapter 32
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
“Tell us more.” Andi’s attention had shifted fully now, posture alert, eyes fixed on Mariella.
“Her name was Jen Watkins,” Mariella continued, reading from her phone. “She went out for her usual jog just after dawn. Same route she ran almost every day. She never came back.”
Andi’s chest tightened. A jog. A routine.
She forced herself to breathe slowly, even as her thoughts leapt ahead, lining this up against everything they already knew.
“Two days earlier, Jen reported a break-in,” Mariella said.
“Nothing stolen. No signs of forced entry. She told police someone had been inside her apartment, but they couldn’t find evidence.
She only had this crazy story about a man who broke in, tied her up, and threatened to come back. The police didn’t seem very concerned.”
Andi went still, the cold suddenly sharper against her skin. She didn’t like coincidences—especially not ones that repeated with this kind of precision.
“Her friends said she was shaken,” Mariella added. “That she’d stopped sleeping. But she was also stubborn and determined to move on with life, to not let the incident slow her down.”
A familiar dread curled low in Andi’s stomach.
She’d seen this before. The urge to reclaim normalcy. To refuse fear the last word.
“Security cameras caught her on the trail,” Mariella added. “She slowed at one point and turned toward something just outside the frame.”
“And?” Andi leaned closer, tension coiling tight in her chest.
“Then she stepped out of the camera’s range. And that’s it.” Mariella exhaled. “There’s no more footage.”
Andi’s heart slammed hard against her ribs. “And the police?”
“They believe she left on her own,” Mariella said. “That the break-in rattled her, and she decided to walk away from her life. She’d gone missing once before—no foul play. She just took off for a few days.”
Silence pressed in, heavier than before.
“The friend who sent the email said Jen mentioned feeling like she was being watched in the days leading up to her disappearance,” Mariella added.
The words crawled under Andi’s skin.
She glanced toward the path, beyond the reach of their camera lights. The darkness there felt thicker somehow, less empty than it should have been.
“That’s not coincidence,” Duke said.
Andi opened her mouth to agree—and froze.
Something moved in the shadows in the distance.
Whatever it was, it wasn’t close. Nothing rushed at them.
It was just a shift of shadow at the edge of the trees, where the light bled out and the trail disappeared into black.
She sucked in a breath as more details came into view.
It was a figure, tall and indistinct. He stood still.
Watching.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
Who was here with them?
Duke saw Andi tense.
He followed her gaze, every instinct snapping into place as the shape at the edge of the path resolved into something more than shadow.
His posture shifted automatically—weight forward, shoulders squared, attention narrowed. “I see him.”
The figure stood just beyond the reach of the lights, half-concealed by the trees. Not close enough to touch. Not far enough to be accidental.
Ranger stepped forward, voice low but carrying. “Hey. We can see you.”
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
The shadow didn’t bolt. Didn’t flinch.
That alone set Duke on edge.
Then the man moved—slowly, deliberately—one step back, then another.
He retreated deeper into the darkness.
Duke broke into a run, boots pounding the packed dirt, breath controlled as he closed the distance. Ranger was beside him in an instant, matching his stride.
“There!” Ranger pointed between the trees.
The shadow darted left, slipping between trunks, moving with unsettling familiarity.
Duke vaulted a low barrier and pushed harder, lungs burning now as branches snapped against his jacket.
Then the ground dropped sharply.
A ravine, Duke realized.
The figure slid down the embankment, disappearing into a tangle of brush and rock.