Page 7

The crisp autumn air nipped at Kevin's face as he walked along the quiet Dallas sidewalk, his breath forming small clouds in the night. His golden retriever, Max, trotted happily beside him, unleashed and free to explore the familiar neighborhood as they wound their way through the streets. Kevin breathed deeply, savoring the stillness as the city wound down for the night.

"Easy boy," Kevin murmured as Max darted ahead to investigate a particularly interesting patch of grass. These late-night walks had become a ritual for Kevin over the past few years - a chance to clear his head and shake off the stresses of the day. Tonight, he'd decided to let Max off-leash as they were sticking to their usual quiet route, and the dog had been particularly restless at home.

Kevin tried to focus on the soothing rhythm of his footsteps and Max's excited panting as the dog bounded back to check on him every few minutes. Work had been particularly stressful lately, with budget cuts looming and whispers of layoffs. At fifty, the thought of having to job hunt again filled him with dread. He'd been at the accounting firm for over two decades now - what would he do if...

He shook his head, forcing the anxious thoughts away. That's why he took these walks after all - to escape the worries that plagued him during the day. Kevin took another deep breath of the cool night air, willing himself to relax.

"C'mon, Max, let's head back soon," he called as the dog circled back to him. Max wagged his tail, then suddenly froze, his ears perking up. Kevin frowned. "What is it, boy?"

Max's head tilted to one side, his entire body alert and tense. Kevin strained his ears but heard nothing unusual - just the distant hum of traffic and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Then, just at the edge of his hearing, he thought he caught something - a high-pitched sound that seemed to hover at the very threshold of his perception.

Before Kevin could react, Max bolted, darting down the street with alarming speed.

"Max!" Kevin shouted, breaking into a run. "Max, come back!"

But the golden retriever was already turning the corner, disappearing from sight with a flash of his golden tail. Kevin cursed under his breath as he sprinted after him, already reaching for his phone. This had never happened before - Max was always well-behaved during their walks, even off-leash.

Panting heavily, Kevin slowed to a jog and pulled up the tracking app on his phone. Thank God he'd had the foresight to get Max microchipped with a collar that had GPS tracking. The blue dot on his screen showed Max moving rapidly away, taking unfamiliar turns through the neighborhood.

"Damn it, Max," Kevin muttered, following the signal. His mind raced with worries - what if Max got hit by a car? What if someone took him? The thought of losing another dog made his chest tighten painfully.

The memory of Jake, his old husky, flashed in his mind. Jake had been Kevin's loyal companion for over a decade before old age finally caught up with him. Kevin still missed him sometimes, even though it had been years...

Kevin's reminiscing came to an abrupt halt as he realized where Max's trail was leading. The blue dot on his phone was moving toward an area Kevin hadn't visited in twenty years. His pace slowed, the blood draining from his face as realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

"No," he whispered, "not Reverchon Park."

Kevin swallowed hard, his grip tightening on his phone until his knuckles turned white. A chill that had nothing to do with the autumn air ran down his spine as memories he'd long tried to forget came rushing back. He stared at the screen, watching as Max's signal came to a stop within the boundaries of the park.

Kevin's heart raced as he approached the shadowy expanse of Reverchon Park before him. The dark pathways stretched into the distance, barely illuminated by scattered, flickering streetlights. A knot formed in his stomach, tightening with each passing second.

"I have to get Max," he muttered, his voice trembling. "Just in and out. Quick."

Twenty years. It had been twenty years since he'd set foot in this park. Not since that night. The night that changed everything.

"This place... it's not safe," Kevin said, his voice barely above a whisper, as he reluctantly entered the park, following the blue dot on his phone.

As if in response, a gust of wind rustled through the trees, sending a shiver down Kevin's spine. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breathing, but the action only made the memories flood back with brutal clarity.

The last time he'd walked these paths, it had been with Jake, his old husky twenty years ago, when he was a much younger man. The night had started just like this one - quiet, uneventful, with only the distant hum of the city to break the silence. But it hadn't stayed that way.

Kevin's eyes snapped open, his breath catching in his throat. "No," he gasped, shaking his head as if to dislodge the image that had haunted him for two decades. But it was too late. In his mind's eye, he saw it again - the body crumpled unnaturally on the damp grass, blood pooling dark and wide beneath it.

Thomas Burke. The name rose in Kevin's mind unbidden, a ghostly whisper he couldn't shake. His throat tightened as the full weight of the memory crashed over him.

"God, why now?" Kevin muttered, running a hand through his graying hair as he followed the path deeper into the park, guided by his phone's screen.

Kevin's eyes darted around the shadowy surroundings, half-expecting to see Burke's ghost materializing from the mist. He shuddered, remembering the victim's lifeless eyes staring up at the night sky.

The image was seared into his brain: Burke's body, curled into a fetal position as if clutching himself in fear. The metallic tang of blood had hung in the cool night air, sharp and unforgettable.

Kevin's stomach churned. He'd stood frozen that night, staring at the lifeless form, horror twisting his insides. The 911 call, the police questions, his stammered statement - it all blurred together in a nightmarish haze. Twenty years felt like yesterday.

"Max!" Kevin called out, his voice echoing through the empty park. "Max, where are you, buddy?"

The blue dot on his phone showed Max had stopped moving somewhere near the center of the park. Kevin quickened his pace, desperate to find his dog and leave this place of nightmares as quickly as possible.

"Damn it," Kevin cursed under his breath. "Why did you come here of all places?"

As he approached the location on his phone, Kevin's footsteps slowed. The area looked vaguely familiar - a small clearing surrounded by trees, with a bench facing a small pond. It was eerily similar to where he'd found Burke's body all those years ago.

"Max?" Kevin called again, his voice softer now, laden with dread.

A soft whine answered him from the shadows. Relief washed over Kevin as he spotted Max sitting calmly under a tree, as if waiting for him. The golden retriever's tail thumped against the ground as Kevin approached.

"Jesus, Max, you scared me half to death," Kevin scolded, kneeling beside the dog and checking him for injuries. "What got into you? We're never coming this way again, you hear me?"

Max whined softly, his gaze fixed on something beyond Kevin's shoulder. A chill crawled up Kevin's spine, his own eyes drawn to the darkness behind him. For a moment, he could almost see it again - the crumpled form, the spreading pool of blood.

"Come on," Kevin said firmly, reaching for Max's collar. "We're going home. Now."

As he stood, Kevin heard it - the soft crunch of footsteps on fallen leaves. His body went rigid, every nerve ending suddenly alert. Max growled softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

"Who's there?" Kevin called, his voice steadier than he felt.

Silence answered him, broken only by the gentle rustling of leaves in the night breeze. Kevin's heart hammered against his ribs as he squinted into the darkness, trying to make out any movement among the shadows.

"We need to go," Kevin whispered to Max, fumbling in his pocket for the retractable leash he always carried. His fingers closed around it, a small comfort in the growing dread that enveloped him.

As he clipped the leash to Max's collar, Kevin couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, his skin prickling with unease. He glanced over his shoulder, his breath catching in his throat.

"It's nothing," Kevin whispered, more to himself than to Max. "Just memories. Can't hurt us now, right?"

And then, cutting through the quiet night air, came a sound that made Kevin's blood run cold. A faint rustling, just off to his right, near the edge of the clearing. Kevin froze mid-step, his body going rigid with fear.

"Did you hear that, Max?" he asked, his voice barely audible. The dog's ears were pricked forward, alert and wary.

Max's response was immediate and chilling. A low, menacing growl rumbled from deep in his chest, his golden fur bristling as he fixed his gaze on the shadowy trees. Kevin felt his throat constrict, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead.

"Easy, boy," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "We're getting out of here."

Kevin forced his leaden feet to move, quickening his pace. Each step felt like a monumental effort, as if the very air had thickened around him. His breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, the sound of his own ragged breathing almost deafening in the eerie silence.

Every sense was on high alert. The rustle of leaves sounded like a thunderclap. The creak of a branch became a gunshot. Even the faint buzz of the distant streetlights seemed to take on a sinister quality.

"It's okay, Max," Kevin panted, more to reassure himself than the dog. "We're almost out of here. Just a little further."

But with each hurried step, the feeling of wrongness intensified. The air grew colder, seeming to cling to his skin like a damp shroud. Kevin's mind raced, memories of that fateful night twenty years ago blurring with the present moment.

Was he imagining things? Or was there really something out there in the darkness, watching, waiting?

"This isn't happening," Kevin muttered, shaking his head. "It can't be. It's just my imagination, it has to be—"

His frantic internal monologue was abruptly cut short by a voice that sliced through the night air like a knife.

"I've been waiting for you."

The words, spoken in a low, gravelly tone, froze Kevin in his tracks. His heart seemed to stop for a moment before hammering against his ribcage with renewed intensity. Max let out a series of sharp, angry barks, lunging against the leash.

Slowly, feeling as if he was moving through molasses, Kevin turned to face the source of the voice.