Page 104 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

BANG.

The violent slam of a truck door cracked across the parking lot. My head turned before I could stop it. Across the street, the grey pickup came alive. The engine rumbled through the square with that familiar diesel growl, vibrating faintly beneath my boots.

Elias climbed behind the wheel. Derek was still laughing about something. Mason rounded the passenger side, climbing in without wasting a single movement. The truck eased away from the curb.

I watched it disappear through the intersection. Watched the sunlight catch the rear window. Watched the exhaust dissolve into the mountain air.

Watched...

Until it was gone.

"Miss Calloway."

I blinked. Collins was still standing there. Watching me. Not the road. Me. He hadn't missed a second of where my attention had gone. His smile had vanished completely.

Interesting. Very interesting.

"I should do my shopping."

My voice sounded pleasant again. Light. Almost musical.

"I wouldn't want the bakery to sell the last cinnamon rolls before I get inside."

Without waiting for a reply, I stepped around him. This time, he moved. Not because he'd suddenly remembered his manners. Because he'd realized pushing any harder would make him obvious. The automatic doors sighed open. Cool air spilled over my skin. I never looked back.

Sometimes the smartest thing you can do...is let someone believe they're still hunting.

When, really…

You've already started watching them.

The drive back up the valley felt longer than usual. The mountain swallowed the last of the afternoon light, shadows stretching lazily across the gravel road until the birch trees stood like dark sentinels against a bruised purple sky. The tires crunched softly beneath me, the only sound besides the occasional whisper of wind slipping through the valley.

Home always looked different at dusk. Less like a cottage. More like something waiting. By the time I eased the sedan into the turnout, the porch light had begun painting warm amber squares across the weathered timber steps. I gathered the grocery bags against my hip, balancing flour, butter, chocolate chips, coffee beans, and far too many lemons for one person.

Cookies. I promised Max cookies.

Well… Dog-friendly cookies.

He deserved better than the humans I'd met today. The screen door creaked softly as I climbed onto the porch. My fingers wrapped around the handle.

I stopped. The grocery bags shifted against my hip as I looked back across the valley. Twilight had settled over the trees, washing everything in muted blues and bruised purples. The road was empty. No headlights. No birds. No wind stirring the pine branches.

Just quiet. The thing about quiet… People think it's the safest part of the day. I think it's the most honest. Nothing has to pretend when nobody's speaking. I stood there for another moment before my eyes drifted toward the tree line.

You know… I never really understood why people are afraid of being watched. Most of us spend our lives hoping someone notices us. Until they do.

I smiled to myself. Then I picked up the grocery bags again.

I wonder… If someone watched you every day... Would you notice? Or would they simply become part of the background? Like the same bird sitting on the same fence. The same truck parked across the street. The same face you pass every morning. It's funny how quickly people stop seeing what's always there. Maybe that's why details matter. They're the first things people stop looking at.

The interesting thing about watching someone...is eventually you stop noticing you're doing it and then one day...You realize you've memorized the way they walk. The way they laugh. The time they leave the house. The route they always take.

So, tell me... A soft laugh escaped me.

Which one of us is watching the other now?

I unlocked the front door. Before stepping inside, I glanced once more toward the valley. Nothing moved. At least… Nothing I could see. The door clicked shut behind me. The valley remained exactly as I'd left it.