Page 25 of Let Her Live

Suddenly, they heard a twig snap. They both froze, listening intently. Fiona could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She slowly reached for her gun, her hand shaking with nerves.

"Who's there?" Jake called out, his gun drawn and at the ready.

There was no answer, just the sound of rustling leaves. They moved forward cautiously, their guns at the ready. Fiona could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins as they moved closer to the noise. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel the sweat pouring down her face. She knew they were getting close to something, but she didn't know what.

Suddenly, they stepped into a clearing, and Fiona's heart stopped.

Standing in front of a river was an old man with a long white beard—holding a fishing rod.

The old man turned to look at them, his eyes kind and curious.

"Morning," he said, his voice soft and raspy. Clearly, he wasn't all that unfamiliar with the sight of a gun.

Jake lowered his gun, a small smile on his face, and flashed his badge. "Morning. Sorry to startle you, sir. FBI. We're just looking for someone who went missing in the area."

The old man shook his head, his eyes wrinkled with concern. "No, I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary. I come here every morning to fish, but I haven't seen anyone else around." He gestured behind them into the brush. "My truck's parked on the road back there, just got in."

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Jake said, "but what is your name?"

"Jim Swanson," he said. "I don't have nothing to hide, if you need to search me."

Just then, the sound of footsteps. They turned to see two officers from the team making their way into the clearing. They nodded at Jake.

"We saw a truck parked on the road and came to check it out," one of them said.

"That'd be mine," Jim said.

Jake sighed. "I'll let you two take this over. Jim, if you could just answer a few questions for the officers, that'd be great."

"Sure, no problem at all," Jim said.

Jake turned to Fiona, his face drawn. Fiona knew that they had to ask Jim some questions, but she was sure Jake felt the same as her—that Jim was likely just an innocent man out at the swamp and had nothing to do with any of this.

They were far out from the campsite now anyway, so they just had to keep looking.

Just then, a large red insect stood out to Fiona. It was a large fly, but its bright red color and long legs stood out to her. Something tickled at the back of her mind—a memory from her studies in entomology.

All at once, Fiona's heart sank.

"Jake, watch out," she said, directing him away from the bug. Just as they moved, it flew off, drifting away in the other direction. She let out a breath.

"What?" Jake said. "It's not like you to be afraid of bugs, Red."

"No, but that one is different," she said. "That is a rare Everglade Moore Fly. I've actually never seen one in person, as the name suggests, you can only find them here." A chill ran up her spine. "They can actually cause psychosis in some individuals if they bite them. It's rare, but they have a toxin in their bite. Certain individuals with a rare type of protein in their blood may experience temporary psychosis. I remember a classmate of mine did their thesis on this topic. I never thought I'd see one."

Jake paled, clearly disturbed. "But there's no guarantee you'll get psychosis," he said.

"No," Fiona said. "From what I understand, it's extremely rare. There have been less than twenty documented cases in modern history, but ten of those cases have occurred within the last five years—which is a fifty percent increase. It’s not unreasonable to say it’s becoming more common.”

"Wow," Jake said. "Count me out."

Fiona and Jake continued their search, their eyes scanning the area for any signs of Hank or the killer. They walked for what seemed like hours, wading through the murky water and thick brush.The sun rose higher in the sky, blaring down on them like a giant blowtorch, and Fiona was sure she could faint from the heat.

As they continued their search, Fiona couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. She glanced over her shoulder again, but still, there was nothing there. She tried to push the feeling aside and focus on their search, but her mind kept wandering to the possibility that they were being followed.

"Jake," she whispered, not wanting to draw attention to them. "Do you feel like someone's watching us?"

Jake stopped in his tracks, his head cocked to the side. He listened for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I do. Let's move quietly, stay alert."

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