Page 31 of Silent Ritual

Just as they rounded a sharp curve, Sheila slammed on the brakes. A figure darted out in the glow of their headlights, narrowly missing the front of their vehicle. The silhouette of what appeared to be a deer disappeared into the woods.

"Friggin’ wildlife," Finn muttered, shaking his head.

"Sorry," Sheila said, feeling her heart pound in her chest. "I didn’t see it soon enough."

Forcing herself to breathe slowly and evenly, she resumed driving, this time keeping a wary eye on their surroundings, watching for any signs of movement. The Slick River camping area came into sight, an unnaturally peaceful sanctuary under the glow of the half-moon.

"Kill the headlights," Finn said. Sheila did as he instructed, and they approached the entrance to the campground in darkness.

The place was a ghost town. Empty benches, abandoned fire pits, discarded beer cans littering the ground—but no bodies, no killer in sight.

Sheila parked the car behind a dense thicket so it wouldn't be easily spotted from the road. They got out, moving quietly through the deserted campsite toward the river. The moon cast long shadows on the ground, making everything look eerie in the soft silver light. The rustling of leaves and the distant hooting of an owl were the only sounds that dared to crash the foreboding silence draped around the woodland.

Sheila gripped her Glock, her other hand clasped around her flashlight. They moved closer toward the riverbank, and she swept her flashlight over the area. Nothing but untouched wilderness met their gaze.

“Think we’re early?” Finn asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Could be,” Sheila whispered back. “Then again, we don’t know exactly where to search. It’s a large campground—the body could be anywhere.”

“If there is a body,” Finn added grimly.

As they headed deeper into the campsite, Sheila's chest tightened, a cold sweat trickling down her spine despite the cool night. It felt like they were being watched, as though eyes were on them from all directions, unseen and silent.

Sheila spotted a cluster of tents further up ahead and motioned to Finn. They approached the tents and found them empty, just like the rest of the campground. The smell of damp earth hung heavy in the air, a warning of an impending storm. Clouds had obscured the moon, shrouding them in darkness, making the forest even more foreboding.

"Wait," she whispered, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. She caught a fleeting movement from the corner of her eyes—something or someone at the riverbank.

Sheila and Finn shared a look before moving cautiously toward the river, navigating through undergrowth that was thick with shadows. As they came closer to the riverbank, Sheila's heart pounded in sync with the rushing river. A figure lay at the water’s edge.

"Shit," Finn muttered under his breath.

It was the body of a young woman, her red hair curled around her head like a pool of fire. Nothing about the way she’d been left, however, resembled the victims from the other crime scenes. Her limbs were straight at her sides, and there were no symbols drawn on the ground around her. There were no herbs on her body, either.

"We interrupted him," Sheila whispered as a lump formed in her throat. "He's still here, nearby."

Finn's gaze darted toward the surrounding forest, his hand tightening around his weapon. The river rushed along, oblivious to their grim discovery, while an impending sense of danger electrified the air around them.

As the beam of Finn's flashlight swept across the far bank, it suddenly illuminated a figure standing among the trees.

"There!" Finn shouted, his voice sharp with surprise.

As soon as the light hit it, the figure turned and disappeared into the dense foliage.

"Come on!" Sheila yelled, already running toward the river. Without hesitation, she plunged into the cool water, which immediately fought to pull her downstream. She sank deeper, the water rising all the way up to her armpits…

And then she stepped forward and felt nothing beneath her. She sank beneath the water and felt herself being carried away by the current. Panic clawed at her as she kicked desperately, fighting to resurface.

A hand grabbed her arm, and for a moment she was in a tug-of-war: the river pulling her one way, the hand on her arm pulling her another. Then she found solid footing and pushed herself upward, breaking the surface. Eyes stinging, breath sputtering, she found herself back on the riverbank in Finn's grasp.

"Easy," Finn said. "You're okay."

“We have to go after him,” Sheila insisted between gasps. “We have to catch him.”

“Easy,” Finn said again, tightening his grip on her. “He’s gone.”

Sheila shook her head, struggling to break free from Finn’s grasp. “No, we can’t just let him—”

“It's too late," Finn said. He stepped back and let Sheila go. "We need to call for backup. We can’t swim this river in the dark, and even if we could, it doesn’t make sense to chase him around in the dark woods by ourselves.”

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