oh my god
Lila held still, her heart hammering against her ribs, but her face stayed a mask of professional concern. For a second, the edge tilted. It wasn’t the thrill of a “hit”—it was the sudden, cold realization that the Blue Ridge shadows were deeper than her LED ring lights could reach.
Lila’s gaze didn't leave the camera, but her mind was racing. She’d seen Micah’s hand twitch toward the remote in his pocket.
Usually, he was better at timing.
The drone wobbled overhead.
Micah glanced toward the tree line, pale beneath the monitor’s glow. He shifted his weight, one hand brushing briefly against his pack before dropping back to his side.
Too quick.
Lila didn’t look at him.
She never missed anything.
Sara Parker
Dispatch lit up at 9:14 p.m.
“Multiple 911 calls reporting screaming at Miller’s Ridge. Possible injured party.”
Sara glanced at Luke from the passenger seat.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Luke flipped on the lights but not the siren.
“Probably the podcast circus.”
“Still gotta check it.”
“Yeah.”
They took the curve up toward the ridge, headlights slicing through trees. Gravel spat under the tires as the road narrowed.
The clearing hit her before the lights did.
Camera rigs.
Drone overhead.
Tourists in a loose semicircle.
The cross.
The ribbon.
The spot where bone and badge had come out of the dirt together.
Luke eased the cruiser to a stop. Sara’s fingers tightened once on the door handle, then she shoved the feeling down and stepped out.
Pine. Damp earth.
“Evening,” Luke called, calm as ever.
Several tourists immediately swung their phones toward the flashing lights.
