Truth: Sometimes the thing that scares you most is the only thing you can do.
I remembered Asma’s cold case rules, so I texted her that I was walking to Jackson Park to clear my head. I didn’t tell her why, because she’d probably try to talk me out of it. Besides, I was having a hard time fully understanding the reasons myself. I tucked my phone into my pocket and walked straight to the park, heading for the “secret” birding spot Nate went to in one of his YouTube episodes. The place he said was haunted.
My footsteps started confident, thundering against the pavement, but by the time I’d reached the edge of the prairie grass, they barely made a sound. Like I was only a shadow. I shivered even though it was a little above freezing, pretty warm, for a January in Chicago, anyway. The late-afternoon sun was getting low, and soon it would be dark and the temperature would drop.
I ground the toe of my boot into the damp gravel path. Testing if it was solid ground. Testing if it could hold me up, because as I was standing there, on the edge of the park, the weight of the last few days hit me square in the chest and took my breath away.
I hesitated. Waiting for a whisper on the wind. Scared of what I might find. Scared I might find nothing. Scared, period. Everything paused. The sounds. The breeze rustling dead leaves. Bare branches bent, reaching over to claw at me.
Headlights of a stray car on the street behind me rounded a curve and briefly lit up the area. The sound of the car’s engine startled a few birds who cawed and lifted from the trees, the swoosh of their wings flapping as the winter darkness crept into the afternoon. I watched until they were dots in the sky.
I took a half step forward, gravel shifting and crunching under my foot.