Page 111 of Walking Away

The cruiser door groaned as she stepped out. Gravel shifted under her boots. “Hey! Anyone out there?”

No answer. Only wind.

Her flashlight sliced through the dark, catching mist and branches—then a shape.

A figure stood between the trees, tall and still. The beam glinted off something pale—porcelain maybe—smooth where a face should have been.

Her throat tightened. She drew her weapon, flashlight trembling just enough to show it. “Jackson County Sheriff’s Office! Make yourself known!”

Silence.

Then—a rustle behind her.

She spun, gun and light sweeping together. “Show me your hands!”

Another sound—this time off to her right. Fast. Low.

Her pulse slammed in her ears. Too many directions. Too many shadows.

She turned again, breath quick and shallow. “Who’s there?”

Nothing.

Only the whisper of wind through pine needles and the soft tick of her idling cruiser.

Sara’s breath came fast, fogging in the cold. She took one step backward toward the car.

Then—the woods went still. Utterly still.

DEPUTY SCOUT WILSON

Highway 73 — Pre-Dawn

Headlights cut across frost-slick gravel. Scout’s truck skidded to a stop beside her cruiser—engine still running, parking lights glowing like two dull eyes in the dark.

The driver’s door hung open. Coffee steamed where it had spilled across the seat, the radio hissing with faint static.

“Parker!” he shouted, bolting from the truck. His voice cracked the silence, echoing through the trees.

He waited—listened. Nothing.

“Parker!” he yelled again, breaking into a run, flashlight beam cutting through the mist.

Branches whipped against his jacket as he pushed deeper into the woods. “Sara! Answer me!”

His boot sank into the mud, the cold seeping through the leather as he turned in a slow circle, light sweeping over nothing but empty forest.

No prints. No movement. No Sara.

The realization hit hard, cold as the air burning his lungs. Fear clawed up his throat, sharper than he’d ever admit.

Sara Parker was gone.

End ofWalking Away