Chapter 3
1044 Words
Dog Attack
The report sat on Elena's kitchen table.
Mocking her.
She had made dinner. Or at least attempted to. The pasta was cold. The wine untouched. The television played quietly in the background. She couldn't focus on any of it. Her attention kept returning to the stack of papers spread across the table.
Animal attack.
Animal attack.
Animal attack.
The words repeated throughout the report like a broken record. A conclusion, searching desperately for evidence.
Outside, twilight settled over the town.
Inside, Elena leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes.
She'd read the report dozens of times over the past year. Maybe hundreds. She practically knew it by memory.
Every statement.
Every photograph.
Every line.
Every contradiction.
Especially the contradictions.
Tonight, however, was different.
Tonight she discovered something she hadn't known before.
A page was missing. And once she'd noticed it, she couldn't stop noticing it.
Page one.
Page two.
Page three.
Page five.
No explanation. No notation. No mention of an attachment.
Nothing.
Just an empty space where page four should have been. The omission felt deliberate. Calculated. Like someone had reached into the file and removed exactly what they didn't want her to see.
Her stomach twisted. Slowly, she reached for the folder again. The corners were worn from use. The pages slightly bent. Evidence of countless sleepless nights. She flipped through them carefully.
Again.
And again.
Looking for something she'd missed. Something everyone else had overlooked. The kitchen clock ticked loudly in the silence. Eleven thirty-seven. Another night spent chasing ghosts.
Her gaze landed on one particular section.
Victim Condition Upon Recovery
The paragraph had always bothered her. Not because of what it said. Because of what it didn't. The language felt vague.
Clinical. Careful. Almost intentionally detached.
She reread it. Then again. The same irritation rose inside her. None of it explained anything. No description of the attack. No detailed reconstruction. No clear sequence of events. Just conclusions. Always conclusions. Never explanations.
Elena reached for her notebook. The one she'd started three months after Ronan died. When grief had begun turning into questions. She flipped through pages filled with observations.
Dates.
Names.
Highlighted sections.
Handwritten notes in the margins.
Questions without answers.
One page contained only a single sentence.
Written in angry block letters.
WHY WAS HE THERE?
That question bothered her more than any other. The location made no sense. Ronan wasn't hiking. Wasn't camping. Wasn't hunting. He had been less than two miles from town. Deep enough into the woods to be isolated. Not deep enough to have any reason for being there.
At least none she knew about.
The authorities never explained it. Neither had his family. Whenever she asked, the answers remained frustratingly vague.
Wrong place. Wrong time. A tragic accident.
Move forward. Heal. Accept.
The problem was that acceptance required understanding. And she understood nothing. A sharp knock startled her.
Elena jumped. Her heart immediately racing. She glanced toward the clock. Almost midnight. Who visited at midnight?
Another knock. Three quick taps. Then silence. She stood cautiously. Crossed the room. Looked through the peephole.
Lily.
Relief flooded her instantly. Elena opened the door.
"What are you doing here?"
Lily Bennett held up a paper bag.
"Emergency intervention."
"You realize normal people text first?"
"You realize normal people don't spend their Friday night reading autopsy reports?"
Elena grimaced.
Fair point.
Lily brushed past her before being invited inside.
As usual.
The smell of fresh bakery bread followed her into the house. She stopped immediately upon seeing the kitchen table. The reports. The notebook. The photographs. The evidence. All spread across the surface.
Lily sighed.
"Oh, Elena."
"I'm fine."
"You say that every time."
"Because I am."
Lily raised an eyebrow. The expression clearly stated she didn't believe a word of it. They had been friends long enough to skip certain conversations. Some arguments had become routine. This was one of them.
Lily set the food on the counter. Then picked up the report. Her eyes moved across the pages.
A frown appeared.
"You've read this thing more than anyone involved in the investigation."
"I know."
"Maybe that's unhealthy."
"It definitely is."
Lily blinked.
Apparently she hadn't expected agreement. Elena sat back down. Exhaustion pulling at her shoulders.
"I found something."
Immediately, Lily became serious.
"What?"
Elena pointed.
"Page four."
Lily looked. Then frowned.
"There's no page four."
"Exactly."
A pause.
Longer this time.
The kind that occurred when a joke stopped feeling funny.
Slowly Lily lowered the file.
"That's weird."
"Right?"
"Weird enough to mean something?"
"I don't know."
That was the frustrating part. She genuinely didn't know. Maybe it was an administrative error. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe grief had turned her into someone searching for mysteries where none existed. But deep down—she didn't believe that.
Not anymore.
Lily pulled out a chair. Sat opposite her.
"Let's pretend you're right."
Elena leaned forward.
"Okay."
"Let's pretend someone removed a page."
"Okay."
"Why?"
The question settled heavily between them.
Why?
Not who.
Not how.
Why.
Elena stared at the report. Then toward the dark window beyond the kitchen. The reflection staring back looked tired. Older than twenty-three. A woman who had spent too long carrying unanswered questions.
Finally, she whispered:
"Because something happened out there."
Lily didn't respond immediately.
Outside, the wind moved through the trees. Branches scraped softly against the glass. An uneasy sound. Almost like fingernails. Eventually, Lily sighed.
"Then maybe it's time to find out what."
The words hung in the air.
Simple. Reasonable. Dangerous.
Because, for the first time in a year, someone wasn't telling her to move on. Someone wasn't telling her to let it go. Someone wasn't asking her to accept the official story.
Instead, Lily gave her permission to question it. And somehow that changed everything.
Elena looked down at the report one final time. At the missing page. At the contradictions. At the questions.
Then she closed the folder.
Slowly. Deliberately.
Decision settling into place. The investigation might be closed. But she wasn't finished.
Not even close.
Outside, hidden beyond the darkness of the forest, something howled.
Low. Distant. Almost mournful.
Neither woman heard it. But somewhere among the trees—silver eyes opened.
Watching. Waiting.
As they had for an entire year.
- Writer
