Evelyn
The voicemail telling me to leave a message was all I got after multiple attempts to call Alan. Every single one ended in failure.
So I sent desperate texts, hoping that at some point he’d wake up, grab his phone, and see that I needed his help.
The hands on my wristwatch pointed to three in the morning. Alan was probably in bed with his wife, getting the rest he deserved after the horrors of his job.
I didn’t have time for rest.
Not when a killer was waiting for me in the forest.
I ran to the empty cruiser across the road and searched for the officer’s radio, but there was nothing inside the car except an empty McDonald’s wrapper.
The bastard had taken the radio with him.
I pulled on combat boots, swapped my pajamas for dark jeans and a leather jacket. My gun and knife were
