Tori's boots crunched on the frost-hardened grass as she approached the two-story, colonial house wrapped in police tape. Red and blue lights bled through the early morning haze, casting eerie shadows on Olivia Bradford's home.
"Agent Spark," a uniformed officer nodded her way, his breath fogging in the chill.
"Status?" Her voice was sharp, clipped by the biting air.
"Perimeter secured.”
"Thanks," she muttered, stepping past him.
The surrounding area held an unsettling silence, as if the earth itself grieved for the missing. Tori stood at the threshold, absorbing the scene. It was always like this—arriving at an unnerving standstill where life had been violently interrupted. Yet, each case left its distinct mark on her, scratching away at the veneer of her composure.
She crossed into the living room, her senses on high alert. With every new victim, the killer seemed to reinvent his methods, leaving behind a trail muddled with contradictions. Olivia Bradford, an environmental lawyer known for her unyielding spirit in the courtroom, now reduced to a name on a growing list of the taken. But this time… alive? They hadn’t found her yet. Why had the killer switched to kidnapping? Was this even related to the serial killer? The thought knotted Tori's stomach.
"Damn it," she whispered to herself, raking her fingers through her hair.
Confusion mingled with frustration as she grappled with the inconsistency of the abduction. There were no patterns to latch onto, no breadcrumbs leading to the perpetrator. Instead, there was only the stark realization that she was once again chasing ghosts in a game where the rules were ever-changing.
"Who are you?" Tori murmured, letting her gaze drift over the room that still carried the essence of Olivia—the neatly stacked legal journals, the framed photos advocating for a greener planet. The absence of struggle, of chaos, it gnawed at her.
"Olivia Bradford," she spoke the name, hoping it would summon some overlooked detail, some whisper of evidence that could tether her to the person responsible. But the words fell flat, devoured by the cold silence of the house.
"Where are you?" It wasn't just a question; it was a plea, a demand. A vow that she would not let another face fade into the obscurity of an unsolved file.
Tori's fingers, pale against the dark grain of the wood, traced the contours of the doorframe. Minute fragments of splintered timber caught her attention—a silent testament to disruption. She crouched, angling her flashlight beam across the polished floorboards, seeking aberrations in the dust, a sign that would scream entry or struggle.
The house held its breath, the air stagnant with the residue of fear and the echo of chaos now passed. The furniture stood untouched, the disquieting normalcy amplifying the sense of something amiss. Yet Tori's practiced gaze peeled back layers of domestic tranquility, hunting for the out-of-place, the forced, the hidden.
"Anything?" the officer at her elbow asked, his voice jarring against the quiet intensity of her focus.
"One sec," Tori replied with a curt shake of her head. Her mind raced through the catalogue of crime scenes she'd seen—trying to find some connection or hidden detail that would tell her where Olivia had gone.
Back at the station, Javi was calling family members of the victims. Trying to connect them to a man with hand injuries. A long shot, she knew. But an educated guess… At least, she hoped.
In the house, Tori rose, her movements measured and methodical. She ran her hand along the mantelpiece, eyes picking up on the smallest displacement—a photograph that leaned slightly askew, a coaster not quite set right. The subtleties that hinted at disturbance yet revealed no clear path of intrusion.
Her gaze lingered on a stack of books, each one marked with the imprints of Olivia's fingers as she had pored over them, her passion for environmental justice evident in the worn pages. Tori's sharp eyes caught a glint of light. Her flashlight beam danced across the walls, seeking some subtle sign or trace of the kidnapper, and had caught on something—an irregularity.
Glass shards sprawled across the living room floor glinted like treacherous ice under the sweep of her light. Tori crouched, the cold seeping through her gloves as she examined the jagged teeth of the broken window. Not open but smashed. This one was above the dining room table. It yawned open, a jagged maw that spoke of violent intrusion. This had to be it—the point of entry.
"Looks like we got an access point," she muttered, mostly to herself as she stood and dusted off her hands.
Her gaze swept the space again, this time landing on the back door. The deadbolt was thrown shut, and Tori approached, fingertips grazing the brass knob. Olivia had known danger was stalking her; she had tried to bar it out of her home.
"Locked from the inside..." Tori whispered, piecing together the narrative of those final, frenzied moments. She could almost hear the click of the bolt, feel the tremor of fear that must have vibrated through Olivia as she sought to fortify her home against the night's grim intentions.
"Agent?"
The voice cut through the silence, and Tori turned toward the young officer standing at the threshold of the living room, his hand clutching a radio.
"What is it?" Tori asked, stepping his way.
"Dispatch just relayed information from the 9-1-1 call logs," he said, his own urgency mirroring hers.
"Did she say why she called? Any word on the perp?" Tori’s brow knitted together, mind already sifting through the implications.
"Only that she believed someone was outside her home. No further details before the line went dead."
"Damn it." The word was a hiss of frustration. Olivia had sensed the danger, had reached out for help that came too late. If only they’d been faster, more alert.
"Keep me posted on any new developments," Tori ordered before turning away.
She continued her search, now with an added layer of desperation. Every cabinet opened, every drawer examined—Tori left no potential hiding place for clues unexplored. Yet as she sifted through Olivia's life reduced to paperwork and personal effects, an unnerving void began to take shape.
No signs of a struggle beyond the broken window. No footprints marred the soft earth outside, no tire treads to suggest a vehicle had been used. It was as if the kidnapper had vanished into thin air, taking Olivia with him.
"Where are you?" Tori muttered under her breath, her gaze piercing the twilight that crept around the edges of the drawn curtains.
Moving to the windows of the house once more, she noted the absence of drag marks or the heavy depressions that would indicate a body being carried through the snow. Everything pointed to a swift, silent abduction—a predator's grace that chilled her to the bone.
"Could've used a car, kept it off the road," she mused aloud, though the idea didn't sit right. An experienced detective, Tori trusted her gut, and it gnawed at her with the certainty that something vital was being overlooked.
Tori crossed the threshold into the chill of the backyard, her breath visible in the frigid air. The world seemed to hold its whisper as she stepped cautiously onto the snow-covered ground, her eyes combing the expanse for any sign that might betray the kidnapper's path. The white expanse stretched out like a blank canvas, except…
Her brow furrowed, and Tori began to walk away from the house.
There, beneath the skeletal embrace of a barren tree, lay an incongruity against the otherwise pristine blanket of snow—an erratic pattern of grooves carved deep and purposeful.
Snowmobile treads.
Tori's heart quickened; her mind raced with the implications.
"Control, this is Agent Spark," she spoke into her radio, her voice steady despite the adrenaline threading through her veins. "I've got something."
She described the treads, their width and depth, how they cut through the yard and disappeared beyond the fence line. There was no doubt now—the kidnapper had been brazen, using the snow as both cover and escape.
"Advise all units to sweep the mountain roads. Look for signs of a snowmobile, tracks going off-route," Tori instructed, her gaze following the trajectory of the hidden assailant's flight. She could almost feel the press of time against her, the urgency of the chase propelling her forward.
"Copy that, agent. Coordinating search now." The dispatcher's voice crackled through the receiver.
As Tori pocketed the radio, her thoughts turned icy with determination. Somewhere out there, amidst the labyrinth of trails and the towering pines, lay the key to unraveling this nightmare.
She was about to step back into the house when her phone erupted with a shrill ring.
"Javi," she answered, the name cutting through the silence.
"Tori, you need to hear this." Javi's voice was tight, the edges sharp with urgency. "Max Barlow just hit our radar."
"Barlow?" The name knitted her brow together as she drew back inside, away from the encroaching night.
"Yep. He's related to Hannah Dyer—her sister's ex-husband. A local loner, always out hunting or fishing." Javi’s words spilled out, rapid and precise.
She absorbed each detail, turning them over in her mind. Hannah, the first victim, bubbly and bright, extinguished too soon.
"His hands, Javi. What about his hands?"
"Two fingers missing. Left hand. Bad fishing accident years ago," Javi disclosed, the facts falling into place like pieces of a grim puzzle.
Tori’s pulse quickened. Max Barlow fit the profile—a ghost of a man, elusive, but now within reach.
Tori's boots crunched through frostbitten grass as she hastened toward her SUV. The vehicle’s door slammed with a thud that punctuated her resolve. She keyed the ignition, the engine's growl a testament to her urgency.
Dropping her phone into the cup holder, Tori spoke up. "I'm on my way to his place now. Meet me there?"
"Careful, Tori. Max isn't your average suspect," Javi warned, his tone echoing slightly in the cup holder through speaker phone. "He's trained for rescues, works high-risk operations. Spotted his helicopter license and checked the local airfield. He's up in the air as we speak, piloting a chopper."
"Airborne?" She gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white as the snow blanketing the landscape. "That complicates things."
"Exactly. We need to track him from the ground and predict his landing. He knows the terrain, he would know how to disappear," Javi continued, his words measured, slicing through the silence like shards of ice.
"Then we'll have to outsmart him, won't we?" Tori said. Her voice was a low thrum of determination, each syllable a step closer to the man who might be their killer.
"Meet you at the last known coordinates. And Tori—" Javi paused, the line crackling with static and something more, something akin to caution. "Don't underestimate him. This guy's survival instincts are razor-sharp."
"Understood." Tori ended the call, the finality of the click echoing her commitment. She reversed out, tires spitting gravel behind her, the trail leading onwards, an unforgiving path towards a truth shrouded in shadows.
As she drove, the mountains loomed overhead, indifferent sentinels to the chase unfolding beneath them. In the rearview mirror, Olivia's home receded into the distance, another tableau of unanswered questions, another soul to vindicate.
Tori's grip on the steering wheel tightened as she navigated the winding mountain road, each turn bringing her closer to the last known coordinates of Max Barlow. The GPS blinked coldly, and her eyes, grey as the threatening clouds above, darted between the road and the rearview mirror, searching for any sign of the helicopter against the bruised sky.
"Come on," she muttered, the words nearly lost in the growl of the engine and the howl of the wind that whipped through the trees lining the route.
The radio crackled to life, Javi's voice slicing through the static with urgency. "Tori, do you have eyes on the target?"
"Negative," she replied, her tone clipped. She squinted into the distance, willing the elusive shape of the helicopter to materialize.
"Keep your head on a swivel," Javi advised, his voice grave. "He could be anywhere, and we don't have much light left."
Tori acknowledged with a terse nod, even though Javi couldn't see it. The mountains seemed to close in around her, a looming presence that was both majestic and menacing. They were racing against time, against the fading light and Max Barlow's cunning.
A faint churning sound caught Tori's attention, a distant thumping that grew steadily louder. Her pulse quickened. Could that be...? She rolled down the window, the chilly air biting at her skin, crystallizing her breath.
There! A dark silhouette against the skyline, rotor blades cutting through the air with mechanical precision. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she grabbed the radio handset. "Javi, I have visual contact. Heading northwest from my position."
"Copy that." Javi's response crackled with static. "We need to track its path. Stay on it, but maintain a safe distance. We can't spook him."
"Understood."
Tori pressed harder on the accelerator, the vehicle surging forward, chasing the fleeting shadow of the helicopter as it swept through the sky overhead. The pursuit was silent save for the thrum of her engine and the rhythmic beating of the rotors in the distance—a predator and prey locked in a high-stakes game of hide and seek.