Chapter 5

~Sunday 05 July, 2026~

2:34 AM

Red and blue emergency lights flashed among the trees as Mike Carter pulled into the Deer Ridge trailhead. The usually quiet parking lot was bustling with activity. Deputies moved between patrol vehicles while volunteer firefighters unloaded medical bags and search equipment. Members of the county search-and-rescue team adjusted backpacks, checked radios, and clipped headlamps to their helmets. A pair of dogs fidgeted nearby, eager to begin.

Mike climbed out of his truck, the knot in his stomach tightening with every step. Barely a week had passed since Jake and Emma had vanished. Yet, they were no closer to finding their remains. Mike was hopeful when Emma’s engagement ring was located, but an exhaustive search of the area had yielded no further clues.

Now he was standing at the entrance to that same trail, answering another call.

Deputy Eric Walsh spotted him immediately and jogged over. “Mike! It’s good you’re here!”

“What happened?” Mike wasn’t wasting any time.

“Not sure,” Walsh shook his head. “Got a call from a few parents when their kids didn’t come home. It looks like four of them hiked out to some secret spot and never came back.”

“Four?”

Deputy Walsh nodded grimly as he took out a notepad. “Recent high school graduates. We found Ryan Mercer’s car parked in the lot. His father told us how to find the swimming hole. With what happened to that couple, we’re rushing out there as fast as possible.”

“Agreed, better safe than sorry,” Mike agreed. “Hopefully they just got drunk and passed out.”

“I hope that’s all it is,” Eric sighed.

“Got names on the other three?”

“Olivia Grant, Mason Delgado, and Chloe Whitaker,” the deputy read from his notes.

“Let’s find those kids and get them home safe,” Mike stated firmly. He hated the thought of more death in his park.

3:57 AM

The dogs led the way, following the same trail Ryan’s father had mentioned. Mike swept his headlamp across the narrow path as Deputy Eric Walsh and three members of search-and-rescue followed several yards behind. Every few moments another team member called out a different name.

“Mason!”

“Olivia!”

“Chloe!”

“Ryan!”

No one answered.

Mike increased his pace as they approached the swimming hole. His heart caught when the beam of his headlamp caught something reflective beneath a tree. Rushing over, he discovered an empty beer bottle. Nearby was an old backpack leaning against the trunk.

“Here!” Mike called out. “They were here!”

As volunteers rushed the scene and flooded it with light, more of the scene was revealed. There were a couple of blankets spread across a soft patch of grass. Near the blankets were a bunch of discarded clothes. A pile of women’s clothes in one spot, some men’s in another, then I noticed a shirt and bra. A small battery-powered lantern had been knocked over and was no longer working. Mike soon found an open cooler containing bottles of alcohol and several snacks.

“Looks like they were setting off fireworks,” Eric observed as he held up a glass jar with a couple of used sparklers in it.

“I found the shotgun!” a volunteer shouted.

Eric and Mike immediately ran to the scene, discovering a terrible sight. Blood. So much blood. Mike knew just from the pool that someone was dead. He didn’t need a medical examiner to tell him no one survived so much blood loss. More dark stains were quickly found covering several rocks, as well as several nearby splatters. He clenched his fist so hard his nails dug into his skin, looking away as emotions welled up inside him.

One patch caught Mike’s attention. The blood was noticeably darker than the rest, almost black beneath the flashlights. Kneeling beside it, he caught the familiar metallic scent. And something else. Damp earth. Wet stone. A smell he couldn’t quite place. It unnerved Mike for reasons he couldn’t grasp.

Another pool of blood stained the grass several yards away. Smaller than the first, but no less horrifying. Between the two patches, dark droplets and smeared footprints crossed the clearing in chaotic directions. Then he found more blood coating the grass and rocks by the swimming hole.

“I’ve got something!” Eric Walsh called out. “MIKE!”

Mike hurried over to where Eric was shining a flashlight across the stream. Across the stream, a young woman lay motionless on the opposite bank. She was wearing only a soaked pair of shorts and wasn’t even entirely out of the water; her feet and calves were still submerged. One arm was stretched awkwardly over her head.

“Across the stream!” Eric pointed.

“CHLOE!” Mike and Eric shouted at the same time, recognizing the blonde hair.

No response.

Mike was already moving. He splashed into the icy stream without hesitation. The cold water surged past his knees as the current pushed against his legs. He nearly fell a couple of times, but eventually reached the opposite bank and climbed onto the slick rocks.

“Chloe,” he knelt beside her and pressed two fingers gently against her neck. A pulse. Weak. “I’ve got a pulse!”

Her skin was pale and cold. A long trail of diluted blood disappeared into the stream behind Chloe, but it was her back that drew Mike’s attention. Four deep lacerations running diagonally across her back, from one shoulder blade to the opposite hip. Dried blood covered most of her back, though fresh crimson still seeped slowly from the deepest wounds.

As a ranger, Mike had spent years treating injuries in the wilderness. Falls, animal attacks, even a few chainsaw accidents. Chloe’s wounds were unlike anything he’d ever seen. They were too evenly spaced and too deep. He couldn’t identify what had caused them, and that terrified him.

“Can you wake her?” Eric asked as he reached them.

Mike carefully brushed damp hair from Chloe’s face. “Chloe? Chloe, you’re safe.”

A soft groan escaped her lips, her eyelids fluttering open for barely a second.

Eric quickly grabbed his radio. “Dispatch, request immediate medical helicopter. One female survivor, severe trauma and possible hypothermia.”

“We need to get her out of the water,” Mike said. “She’s freezing.”

“I’ve got a blanket,” Eric said, grabbing a tightly rolled orange emergency blanket and placing it on the ground in front of Chloe.

Mike positioned himself near Chloe’s shoulders. “I’ve got her head.”

Eric moved to her hips while a volunteer knelt near her legs.

“Ready?” Mike asked, getting two nods. “On three. One. Two. Three!”

Together they lifted Chloe only enough to slide her onto the bank, keeping her body as level as the uneven ground allowed. She cried out weakly, shivering as her feet finally exited the cold water. They placed the petite girl onto the blanket, making sure not to aggravate any possible spinal injuries. Then the volunteer used trauma dressings to cover her wounds.