Page 135 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

"Come on, boy..."

A tear slid onto the steering wheel.

"Elias needs you."

Another sob caught in my throat.

"Please..."

"Don't leave him."

“I need you."

"Don't leave me too."

Elias

“Come on… come on… answer.”

I jabbed the redial button on the steering wheel so hard my thumb ached; my eyes fixed on the ragged ribbons of fog drifting between the pines.

"The mobile customer you are trying to reach is currently unavailable or out of the coverage area. Please try again-"

“Fuck!”

My palm slammed into the dashboard hard enough to rattle the radio mount.

Redial. The same mechanical woman. The same deadline. The same digital wall refusing to let me through.

Her broken sob was still trapped inside my head, looping over and over beneath the static until my teeth hurt from clenching them. I threw the truck into the next mountain bend, tyres whining against the wet asphalt as the suspension leaned hard into the turn. The engine roared beneath the hood, fighting the steep climb while I punched Mason's speed dial.

He answered on the second ring.

"Mase."

"Elias."

His voice was as level as ever. Behind him I could hear the echo of the state garage air compressors, steel clanging against concrete, someone shouting measurements.

"Forensics has a partial match on the axle width. They're-"

"I'm out."

The words came out rougher than I intended.

"If Walker asks, tell him I'm following a lead off Route Nine."

Silence. Not surprising. Mase was always quiet, calculating. Mason knew my voice better than anyone.

"Derek's already in the cruiser," he said quietly.

"Where are you going?"

"Hold the station."

I ended the call before he could ask another question. The truck kept eating miles, but the cab felt smaller with every bend. My mind refused to stay on the road. It kept dragging me back to her porch. The white linen dress moving in the wind. Her voice broke through the phone. That tiny, suffocating sob.

Worst-case scenarios never arrive as thoughts. They arrive like photographs from crime scenes that haven't happened yet. What if she wasn't crying anymore when I got there? What if the front door was hanging open?