Chapter 10

10

DECLAN

I sent a patrol car to the missing fifth location on the map while I made my way over. A pair of officers, who were already near the area, confirmed that similar markings were left behind, and they closed off the scene.

At their confirmation, I felt equal parts relief and dread. Carolina had been right about the pattern, and I had a feeling she might also be right about another disappearance. If that was true and the final disappearance followed the pattern of the previous ones, I had until nightfall to pinpoint the location.

The urgency was gnawing at me. Every case I'd worked taught me one thing: when patterns emerge, they almost always lead to a climax. And that climax rarely ends well for the victims. This was no exception.

My phone rang as I turned off the road and onto an unpaved, marked drive that would take me to where the patrol officers closed off the scene. I put Bas on speaker.

“Find anything?” he asked.

“Just pulled into the drive. Not sure yet. I’ll let you know if I do,” I tell him, parking my car and shutting off the engine.

The trees swayed slightly in the wind, their branches casting long shadows over the dirt road. Something about the place felt off—not just physically, but emotionally like the weight of every missing person’s fear was lingering in the air.

I knew how Bas would feel about taking tips from Carolina, so I hadn’t told him about the working theory, just that I wanted to investigate this area based on the relative distance to the other places. He seemed to buy it. I most certainly wasn’t going to tell him about my plans to stake out the center of the pentagram.

I would say that the thought alone was insane, but this wasn’t my first rodeo. Not by a long shot.

A few years ago, I’d worked a handful of cases in desert towns where it seemed like someone was emulating pagan rituals using animal sacrifices. The amount of blood found at the scenes alarmed the county police so much they called me in, but it turned out to be a bunch of teenagers causing trouble out of boredom. Apparently, a summer blockbuster about a cult had just released and gave them some ideas.

That case, though harmless in the end, left me with the knowledge of how quickly people could adopt the macabre for fun. Or worse, how easily they could cross a line they didn’t even know existed.

Those cases made me wary of small towns to begin with. When I was called into this one, I knew there might be another explanation for the disappearances. A quiet town, non-existent crime rate, and low-risk targets? There had to be something more to them.

Of course, someone could be abducting these people. The entire police force had been searching for them around the clock while Bas and I tried to put the pieces together. If we could figure out the pattern and predict the next disappearance, we could trace it back to the source.

Still, nothing about the physical evidence pointed to a clear abduction scenario. No forced entry at homes, no witnesses to strange vehicles, no ransom notes—just people vanishing without a trace. It’s what kept me up at night. There were no loose ends to pull, only vague patterns on a map.

But given the situation—the town, the victims, the rumor mill—it may be just as likely that these “missing” individuals were holed up somewhere together, trying to draw media attention to their small town to garner more tourists.

I had considered that theory seriously for a while, but after talking to the families of the missing, their devastation seemed too raw to be faked. Besides, media stunts usually came with announcements and clues left for reporters to follow. Here, there was only silence.

Town scandals, especially stories about witches making people disappear around this time of year, tended to draw a crowd. But in this case, it felt like the town was retreating, almost as if they were hoping the outside world wouldn’t notice what was happening. Their reluctance to engage with outsiders, their cryptic answers—it was as if the town itself had something to hide.

No matter what it was, I’d investigate any lead I had to the best of my ability—including ones that came from mysterious coffee shop owners. I’d call Bas if I needed backup tonight, but if I was wrong, no harm done. If Carolina’s gut was right—and if mine was right too—tonight would be critical. I didn’t want to make the mistake of dragging Bas into something I wasn’t even sure about yet.

“Okay. I’ll head over after I talk to Owen’s family about any late-night meetings he may have been going to.”

“Sounds good.”

Leaves crunch under my feet as I make my way over to the yellow police tape. “Detective Declan O’Reilly,” I say to the officer, flashing my badge.

He nods and lifts the tape to let me under. “Over here, Detective,” calls Specialist MacDonna from the Crime Scene Unit.

“What do you have?” I ask, crouching beside her as she points to a familiar pattern on the ground. The same one found at the other scenes.

“Scorch marks in the grass are perfect circles like the other locations, but some of the leaves, over where Officer Bragg is, have some residue that we didn’t find at the others.” She passes me an evidence baggie. “Smells like sulfur; we’re having it tested in the lab.”

I nod, studying the bag containing a small amount of fine pale yellow powder. “Why would we find sulfur here and not the other locations?”

“It’s possible there was, and we missed it. I can send CSU back to the other places and have them widen their search.”

“Okay, thanks. Anything else?” I ask, passing her the evidence bag back.

She nods, standing and pointing in front of us beyond the circular markings. “There’s only one set of footprints coming into the circle. None going out or coming from any other direction. It’s like whatever was here just vanished.”

I raise a brow at her. “Do you really believe that?”

MacDonna shrugs. “I don’t know what to make of it. I think that’s your job, Detective.”

“Right. Thanks. Let me know when the sample comes back from the lab.”

“Will do.”

I took a long breath as I walked away from the scene. The sulfuric residue was strange, but even stranger was the lack of any sign of struggle or movement beyond that one set of footprints. It was as if whoever or whatever entered the circle ceased to exist once they reached the center. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something—some force—was pulling these people into thin air.

But that was a crazy thought. Impossible, even.

No, this case had an explanation, a reasonable explanation for everything. Unfortunately, finding this last location had given us more questions than answers.

When I get back to the station, Bas is still out. I spread my map out on my desk and mark the fifth location.

“Here’s that compass you wanted, O’Reilly,” Deputy Stotland says, passing it to me. “Think you have something?”

I don’t know why I didn’t want to tell the Deputy what I was doing, but something in my gut was warning me against it. “Maybe. Probably nothing.”

He nods and continues to his desk as I position the pencil into the tool. I estimate the center, knowing I’ll have to adjust it, and line the pencil up with one of the five marks. After some trial and error, the circumference of the circle crosses each mark exactly.

I tap my finger on the point in the center of the circle. “Gotcha.”

A chill runs down my spine as I stare at the center point on the map. This was it. Whatever was going to happen, it was going to happen here.