Page 142 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

The clearing rebuilt itself behind my eyelids, the wind, the well the fog.

"A man."

"Tall?"

"I... I don't know."

My voice shook.

"He was already running."

"Build?"

"Broad... maybe."

"What was he wearing?"

"Dark clothes."

I swallowed.

"Heavy clothes. Like... like the men who work at the timber yard."

His expression never changed.

"Anything else. A vehicle. A weapon. A face?"

I squeezed my eyes tighter until they burned.

"The fog..." I whispered.

"It came down off the ridge, and it swallowed him. I couldn't see his face."

"I couldn't..."

A tear escaped despite my efforts.

"I couldn't remember enough."

"You remembered plenty."

His voice softened.

"You did good."

"I didn't."

"You did."

The certainty in his answer left no room for argument.

Evening settled quietly over Blackridge.

The last of the sunlight slipped through the windows, turning the old river-stone fireplace amber while long shadows stretched across the wooden floor. Beside me, Max snored softly. One ear twitched. His paws kicked once against the blanket as though he were chasing something through a dream.

I smiled. A real one.

"Goodnight, handsome."