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She pulled her wide eyes away from the forest, a trail of sweat sliding down her throat as she stepped back towards the house. “Fine. Just set it down on the cash and go.”
Vera didn’t want to leave her, not as whoever remained stayed in the dark. Not as they seemed to stalk closer to the forest’s edge. She swung her flashlight over the trees.
Nothing.
“I don’t want to leave you out here alone,” she hissed.
“Lady, I don’t even fuckin’ know you. I can take care of myself. Leave the card and go. Now.”
Reluctantly, she dropped it on the twenty. Her gut screamed at her to do more, to help her, to prevent her from squatting in a house and getting caught by Sheriff Malis again. “Don’t forget it. Just please, text or call me if you need anything. Even if it’s just a meal, alright?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper as her pulse pounded in her ears.
The girl nodded, chest rising fast with each breath. Vera could almost smell the terror rolling off of her.
“Get out of here.”
Walking slowly back towards the alleyway, she turned to her one last time.
“What’s your name?” With a heavy swallow, the knife pointed at the forest as if it could stop what lay beyond.
“Sam. Sam Wray.”
“Use that number, Sam.” The girl wasn’t looking at her anymore, walking backward towards the back door. The knife trembled. “And Sam?” Her pinched eyes flashed to Vera for a second. “Don’t go into the forest.”
She didn’t bother agreeing before slipping inside.
Vera pressed against the siding, eyes straining hard to see where her flashlight beam hit the forest. Silence fell across the yard but the predatory gaze pierced her like rusted hooks. It could be the man in the black truck from the parking lot or even the deputy outside the motel. Or worse yet, someone else entirely. There were too many variables. Too many unknowns. With no way to tell who was dangerous and who could be trusted when a killer used that very woodland for their playground.
When a soft sound from the second floor of the house came, she began exiting the alleyway. Walking backward, she only stopped when her feet hit the pavement and the lights from the diner came into view.
Releasing a shaky breath, she wiped her brow.
Across the thin road was the strange wooden structure she noticed when they first pulled into town. Crossing the lane, she examined it closer, never giving the forest her back.
The rich yellow wood stood about four feet high and four feet wide. In the shape of a hitching post, it appeared well-maintained. Its foot-wide posts were solidified into the slab of concrete that covered the island dividing the main thoroughfare. The flat space ran about thirty feet long by twenty feet wide which made an unusual size for an unused public area. There were no benches for sitting or a local monument to view. Only the wood structure occupied the space.
Running her hand across the horizontal piece of wood, she found it to be smooth. She moved to the other side. It sat outdoors uncovered, one would assume it would be worn and dry from the weather. It wasn't. Every few inches there were deep gouges of various shapes and sizes, lighter than the rest of the wood. Examining the legs, she noticed a credit card-sized blotch on the ground. It was reddish-brown with uneven edges like whatever liquid it once was had never been cleaned from its original spill. Kneeling, she thought it looked like dried blood.
“Vera!” Teddi called from the open diner door across the road. Her hand flung out in confusion.
Looking back at the house, she was happy to see that Sam didn't try to turn on any lights. Her gaze drifted back to the forest behind the home.
Deputy, murderer, or boogeyman, something was in the Sylen woods and a sinking feeling told her it had its sights set on her.
Chapter 14
Vera
“Are you sure you're alright?” Teddi asked her three times while she rehashed the story of going after Sam. She filled her in on what happened—leaving out the part where someone was watching them—once she got back to the diner.
Sam's details on Alex's missing organs only confirmed the suspicions they held over his connection with the other murders. They needed an autopsy and forensics, but Vera's confidence in his death being part of the same killer's sick game was growing. It didn't make it easier to reconcile but it eased the concern of hunting two separate killers. Alex never would've killed himself. On that, she bet her life.
The meal was interspersed with quiet discussions about whether or not the girl could be involved with Alex’s murder. Neither of them was sure but didn’t want to rule out the possibility. At this point anyone was fair game, Vera reminded herself. One thing she was sure of was that someone was out there hiding in the dense dark wild. Just like when they first rolled down the tattered highway exit, she felt it lay witness to their entry. The moment they checked into the motel, she was sure that they weren’t alone.
Her nerves were beginning to fray. The pressure of each new voyeuristic moment came closer to breathing down her neck. It was inclement torture, forcing her to constantly question which time she would find someone staring back at her.
Gripping the discolored sink in the motel bathroom, her fingers ached as she tried to hold on. Hold onto her sanity, to her grasp of the truths hitting her over and over. She couldn’t bring herself to think too long about Ximena, dealing with their family and the funeral director to get Alex’s body back home, disappointed and mad at her. She had progressed to monosyllabic responses to her occasional check-ins.
The woman in the mirror was not Vera Aguilar. The same short hair, wide almond eyes, and black lashes, but everything else was wrong. The gray pallor of her skin made her look sickly. The black circles under her eyes were becoming permanent. They’d been there for months and seemed to be sinking into the bone beneath. She wiped at them, trying to erase another reminder of what caused them.
