Page 56 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

Not sure. Fuck. Two words detectives hated more than almost anything.

"The caller reported what appears to be... personal property."

"What kind?"

"A necklace."

I frowned.

"...A necklace?"

"They said it looked old."

My hand instinctively reached for my jacket hanging over the chair.

"Forensics?"

"Already on the way."

"The Sheriff?"

"He's been notified."

"I'll meet them there."

I hung up before she could reply. The chair scraped violently across the floor as I grabbed my keys, my notebook and my service weapon. The coffee Sheriff brought me sitting on my desk hadn't even cooled yet. It didn't matter. The board of missing women stared silently after me as I hurried out of the office. Eight smiling faces. Waiting. Always waiting. Please… Just give me something. One thing. One fucking thing.

The station had transformed before I'd even reached the front entrance. Deputies were moving quickly but without panic. Evidence kits were being loaded into the back of SUVs. Someone rolled crime scene tape over one shoulder while speaking rapidly into a radio. Another officer nearly collided with me carrying two bright orange search packs.

"Sorry, Detective."

"You've got coordinates?"

He handed me a folded map without breaking stride.

"Marked already."

I glanced down. In the middle of Blackwood Forest. Of fucking course. That forest covered nearly thirty square kilometres of dense pine and rocky terrain. Thick undergrowth, poor visibility and hundreds of places to lose something or someone. Sheriff Walker climbed out of his truck at the same moment I reached mine.

"You heading straight there?"

"Yeah."

He nodded once.

"Forensics are coming in from the south entrance."

"I'll take the north."

"If it turns into a grid search, we'll split sectors."

I gave a sharp nod. Neither of us wasted another second. Doors slammed. Engines roared to life. Within moments the convoy was pulling out of the station.

Rain began somewhere outside town. Not heavy. Just enough to leave streaks across the windshield while the wipers complained with every pass. The forest roads weren't really roads. More suggestions. Mud swallowed the tyres in places, forcing me to slow before accelerating again around blind bends lined with towering pines. The radio crackled constantly.

"...Unit Three approaching the checkpoint..."

"...Search team ETA for twelve minutes..."