The old detective makes his way through the corn in the dark with only the circle of Maglite illuminating his path. The dog is hurrying and scurrying in between the thick dry stalks, following a scent. Heart pounding inside his temples, Miller senses he’s about to come face to face with an evil presence.
Call it intuition. Call it gut instinct. Or call it a built-in s**t detector, but if there’s one thing he’s developed in more than thirty years he’s spent on the job, it’s an ability to sniff out dangerous situations before they slap him across the face or kick him in the balls. It’s a talent that has spared his life on more than one occasion, and it will be a talent he will rely on from this moment forward.
The dog lets loose with a couple of loud barks and then follows up with a howl
