Page 13 of Silent Night

Just as the man finished speaking, Jenson heard the faint wail of sirens in the distance. His heart raced even faster, and he fought to keep his breathing steady. A police cruiser came into view, speeding toward them with lights flashing. Panic surged through Jenson's veins as the cruiser drew nearer, its siren cutting through the quiet afternoon air.

As subtly as he could, Jenson took a few steps to the right and faked a sneeze, hiding himself behind the truck so that the cruiser would be less likely to spot him.

"Hey, buddy, you alright?" the man asked, noting Jenson's sudden change in demeanor. "You seem a little jumpy."

"Just dealing with some allergies."

As the cruiser sped past them, Jenson let out a silent sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his brow. His heart still raced, but for now, at least, he supposed, he was safe.

The truck driver let out a low whistle. "That guy must've been going seventy, easy," he said, peering in the direction the cruiser had disappeared. "Wonder what's going on around here."

"Good question," Jenson said, his pulse quickening as he sensed the conversation drifting toward dangerous territory. "No idea."

"Are you sure you're alright?" the driver pressed, his gaze returning to Jenson with a hint of suspicion. "You seem a bit...off."

"Like I said," Jenson answered, trying to mask his growing unease with a forced chuckle. "Just not feeling the greatest."

"Right..." The driver trailed off, squinting at Jenson as if trying to read his mind. His eyes soon landed on Jenson's backpack again, and a flicker of curiosity sparked within them. "So, where'd you say you were hiking?"

"Uh, just around," Jenson mumbled, mentally preparing himself for the worst-case scenario—one that involved silencing this stranger for good. He surreptitiously reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the cool metal handle of his knife.

"Must've been quite a hike. You know, there's been some weird stuff happening out here lately. Heard about that girl who went missing?"

"Really?" Jenson feigned surprise, his heart pounding in his chest. The knife suddenly felt heavier in his pocket, a reminder of what he might have to do to avoid detection.

"Yup," the driver said, nodding solemnly. "Pretty scary stuff."

As Jenson weighed his options, the man's cell phone rang, its shrill tone cutting through the tense atmosphere. The driver's attention shifted immediately to the call, providing Jenson with a momentary reprieve.

"Hello? Oh, hey honey," the driver answered, his voice softening as he spoke to his wife. "Yeah, I'm on my way home now. Just met this hiker guy. I'll be there soon, promise."

"Alright, love you too," he said before ending the call and sliding his phone back into his pocket.

"Sorry about that," the driver told Jenson, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "The wife's waiting for me at home. You know how it is."

"Of course," Jenson replied, forcing a smile in return. "Have a good one."

"Take care, man," the driver said, all hint of suspicion gone from his eyes. Within moments, the truck was speeding down the road, leaving Jenson alone with the echoing silence. His heart thumped in his chest as he wiped the sweat from his brow, relief mingling with fear. He had narrowly escaped a dangerous situation, but he couldn't afford any more close calls.

Jenson crossed the road, his steps quick and purposeful. He scanned the brush along the roadside, searching for the familiar outline of his vehicle. Hidden behind a dense cluster of bushes, the sedan's gray paint provided a muted backdrop to the foliage. He had chosen this spot carefully, ensuring that it would be concealed from passing motorists.

"Almost there," he whispered to himself, parting the branches. The door opened with a soft creak, and Jenson slid into the driver's seat. The familiar smell of leather upholstery filled his nostrils, providing a small measure of comfort.

"Damn, that was too close," he muttered under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tightly. His knuckles turned white as he tried to quell his racing thoughts. He'd just need to be extra cautious when he was out and about in the future.

As he tried to calm himself, his mind wandered back to the feeling of power that had surged through him as he strangled the woman, her life slipping away between his fingers. The memory sent a shiver down his spine, and he reveled in the sensation. It was addictive, intoxicating—a high unlike any other.

"Never again," he told himself, his resolve wavering. "I can't risk getting caught."

But as he sat in the car, replaying the scene over and over in his mind, something shifted within him. The fear of capture began to fade, overshadowed by an insatiable hunger for control. The thrill of taking a life coursed through his veins, an undeniable urge he could no longer ignore.

"Maybe just one more," he said softly. "I'll be careful this time."

And if he decided he didn't want to be done then, what of it? It wasn't like the police were going to stop him, was it?

CHAPTER SEVEN

A knot formed in Sheila's stomach, a swirling mixture of eagerness and unease, as she realized that she would soon be face-to-face with the victim. She had only ever seen one dead body before, during a previous investigation. If this experience was anything like the last one, she would need to steel herself for the grisly sight that awaited her.

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