Lindsey was beginning to get discouraged as she looked around the ground for something—anything—to use as proof that her sister was murdered. She felt like she had been searching for ages, and it didn't look like any of the other four had found anything either.
There wasn't much that would qualify as proof to the police, and Lindsey knew it. The best they would be able to hope for was some sort of personal artifact that could have been on their siblings at the time of the crash—finding it in the woods could mean that the impact didn't kill them, and someone was waiting to finish the job at the bottom of the ravine.
Or perhaps some sort of clue could lead them to discovering the make and model of the car that hit Eddie Hadden's LeSabre, and the police could at least find out who the "drunk driver" was. It was strange to Lindsey that they hadn't tried harder in the first place. Accident or not, the driver would be facing jail time if caught.
Lindsey stood up quickly at the yell from a few yards away, out of sight of the group. She looked around as three of her companions did the same and realized that Michael wasn't with them, though she couldn't remember when he wandered off.
She didn't want to think of anything bad happening, but at the same time, she remembered what had happened in this ravine a few months earlier. And if the reason for Michael's scream was the person who threw a brick through her window, Lindsey wasn't sure if there was a length they wouldn't go to in order to ensure that everything went according to their plan.
The four started running in the direction of the scream, stumbling a bit in the darkness and trying to use their phone flashlights for help. Lindsey arrived at the scene first and found Michael lying on the ground, unconscious. Mary screamed at the top of her lungs as she knelt down by her twin brother and started shaking him incessantly as Jordan and Roland looked on, unsure of what to do.
Lindsey heard footsteps running off in the woods—no doubt the footsteps of whoever had knocked out Michael—and she did the only thing that seemed appropriate.
She tore off after them.
While everyone else tried to wake Michael up and see if he was alright, Lindsey decided that she would be productive and try to catch whoever had been the person to knock Michael out. She was captain of the soccer team, after all, and had speed on her side.
Though, from the looks of it, this person had speed as well.
It was pitch-black in the woods, with no light shining from anything, and the soccer star had accidently switched off her phone's flashlight when she started running—and there was no time to turn it on now. Lindsey could see faint outlines of trees to show her where to avoid them, and she was relying mainly on her hearing to get her through the winding path that the person she was pursing seemed to be taking. Their footsteps pounded ahead of the girl, sprinting off at a speed to rival her own.
Yet Lindsey was faster.
She could feel the footsteps growing closer to her as she overtook the person, her own sneakers hitting the ground forcefully with every stride and creating what was sure to be an incredible mess behind her. The footsteps pounded on, but Lindsey drew so close that she could see the outline of the person's back in front of her. They were holding something in their right hand—it was tucked in to their side, as if protecting the object from something.
Lindsey was so focused on deciphering every detail of the person's back that she didn't see the tree root poking up out of the ground.
Her ankle caught on the root and she went down hard, hitting the ground face-first as she let out a scream of pain. Her ankle felt like it was on fire, and for a second she completely forgot about her target running far, far away.
Lindsey sat up slowly and massaged her ankle, taking out her phone and turning the flashlight back on as she caught her breath. She had been so close. But they got away.
Next time, she would catch them.
She shone the flashlight on her ankle, a light bruise already appearing where it had caught on the root. She tried to stand slowly, using the tree to brace herself. Putting any weight on her ankle hurt like hell, but she didn't have cell reception and needed to get back to the group. Getting knocked out by their stalker didn't seem wise when she was this far away from civilization.
She gingerly took a step forward, using her flashlight to ensure that she didn't trip over anything else. She could see her footsteps as she went back, where they left indents in the mud. She could also see faint footprints of the person she had been pursuing, yet they were mostly covered up by her own. She had assumed she would catch the person; detective work wouldn't have been necessary if she had succeeded.
It took some effort and some refusing to acknowledge her pain, but Lindsey managed to force herself to take multiple steps forward, slowly and carefully. Her ankle screamed at her with every step she took, but there was nothing else she could do besides try.
She walked a little further, her flashlight illuminating her path, before something directly in her path caught her eye. It was a white envelope with black script on the front, eerily similar to the one Roland had showed the group just a few days earlier.
Except this time, when Lindsey picked it up, it had a very different name written on the front.
She picked up the envelope and tucked into her back pocket, her hands shaking as she did so. She wasn't sure what was inside, but she also knew that innocence was bliss—the longer she waited to open the envelope, the happier she would be.
Until her phone buzzed in her hand.
Lindsey looked down, her heart sinking as she realized who the text would inevitably be from.
She planned on it.
A/N: Ooooh. What's in the envelope?
YOU ARE READING
Killer InstinctMystery / Thriller
Three months ago, four kids were run off the road by a drunk driver and pronounced dead at the scene, leaving their families to grieve and wonder why accidents had to happen. The four left behind families, and namely, five specific siblings: all sen...