"Does this convince you?" Detective West asked his partner.
Portman shook his head, and Matt left in the dilapidated truck. A drizzle of rain fell from the awning above the station door, turning into a curtain. Portman shivered in the cold night air, confused. He wasn't sure what to expect from having Carl talk to his friends, and couldn't pinpoint any real triggers, but it was still weird to say the least.
Inside, he has a high school student with crazy delusions about magic, a fantasy world he's supposed to visit, and a missing friend who Portman believes is somehow responsible for his disappearance. He didn't understand Carl's behavior at all - after the run-in with his friends.
Portman never lets a case go easily. His relentless determination has turned many partners away from him throughout his career when he could easily clear a number at the first opportunity and improve his statistics. West is just the latest in a long line of companies.
"I don't know about you, but—"
Portman interrupted. "I'll deal with Stockson. Go get the car. We're following them."
West grinned. "That's what I thought."
Portman smiled and hurried back to the station. West seems like a good choice.
They wouldn't put up sirens or lights at this late hour. The road is calm. Most people were asleep. West leads them through strings of hazy green lights flickering in the rain, and then into the maze of suburban streets.
As they pulled up to the Silverdale residence, Portman encountered a lucky break. He patted West, who had slowed to a crawl, and pointed down the road. Through the downpour, they could just make out the taillights of the pickup truck as it turned the corner and disappeared from view. For a few more seconds, the detectives wouldn't see it.
What follows is the quietest police chase of all. There were no cars anywhere to be seen and there was almost no sound other than the pouring rain and the grunt of the engines. How bizarre, Portman thought. Like cruising in a dream, the red taillights, yellowish headlights and dim streetlights overhead cast faint colors through the raindrops. The moon was obscured by thick clouds, and they drove farther and farther away from the road, even the street lights disappeared.
West turned off the lights and their car was black, so Portman didn't expect to be spotted. If Matt was checking to see if anyone was following him.
If the kid was innocent, why would he drive down this road at three in the morning? Portman couldn't understand. Was there another figure in the cab of the truck? He couldn't be sure, because they were so far away and the light was so dim.
As they rounded another corner and climbed up the hill, Portman looked around in wonder. He had been too busy identifying the car's details to notice their location.
"Where are we?"
"Outside of our jurisdiction," West complained. "Wait...fuck."
"What?"
"I guess...yeah. We're going to Sierraville Park."
Alarm bells rang in Portman's mind. "are you sure?"
"I can't think of anything else worth mentioning."
Carr's story pushed his way into Portman's heart. is it possible?
No. This is ridiculous. This can't happen. This is wishful thinking, escapist thinking from a child who sees terrible things and is unable to cope with them. Carl is insane and in need of serious psychiatric treatment.
Portman, however, couldn't explain what he saw. They just have to keep following Matt, no matter the outcome. Maybe he would lead them to a body, buried deep in the woods. Portman shuddered at the thought. Is he going to catch the murderer?
He reached into his coat pocket and carefully checked to see if the pistol was still in his waistband.
＊＊＊
"Careful," Portman hissed.
"I hate the forest, okay?" West climbed up from the dust and glared at him. "Go on your own if you have to."
They were only a few hundred feet away from a flickering lantern, traveling deep into the forest. Shortly after the park sign went up, the pickup truck pulled up to the side of the road and got out of three people—Matt, his sister, and a girl none of them knew. Portman's paranoid brain immediately concluded that Matt and his sister were going to murder the girl, but he ignored it. The body language is all wrong. They were helping her through the woods. Matt's sister led the way, just outside the lantern, while Matt held their friend's hand through the more difficult brush.
West had no such companions, and in the near-total darkness he stumbled over every root and thorn.
"Just put that light in front of your eyes," Portman whispered, exasperated. He led early on while West struggled to keep up. The lights were fading, but Portman was determined not to lose them. They continued the chase, getting deeper and deeper. He was thirsty and tired from being awake so long, but he still wouldn't let them out of his sight. He will get to the bottom of it and close the case, no matter the cost.
He noticed that the forest had grown quiet. No crickets, no frogs, nothing. There was only wind and rustling leaves around them. He felt anticipation knotting in his chest and knew something was going to happen - soon. Just as this feeling came over him, he saw the lantern suddenly stop.
How close could he dare? Portman crouched low, trying to move as quietly as possible. He could hear murmurs ahead, light moving around, shadows moving around. As far as he could tell, they had placed their lantern behind a tree, blocking the light from the clearing where they stood. Why are they doing this? What are they planning?
He needed to get closer. He moved forward step by step, the ivy beneath his feet crushing him. Finally, he finally understood a few words.
"...I'm still standing here?"
"I don't think it matters. We... held hands."
"You're not sure?"
"Wow, I've never done this before."
A burst of nervous laughter. What was going on inside? He tried to get closer, but he saw thick patches of ivy and leaves in front of him. They make too much noise. The risk is too great. If he showed up now, he might not hear everything important. He could only trust that if they started moving again, or if something seemed to be happening, he would hear them.
"Are you ready?"
"Can you prepare for something like this?"
"Oh, stop grandstanding. Let's just do it."
"All right."
"You two are going to have a lot of fun. Well, hang on."
More mumbling, this time sounding like a foreign language. It was too quiet to hear what he said - if he could understand it at all. Portman is fluent in several languages, but this is definitely not one of them. Not even a family.
Suddenly, the sound stopped. Everything stopped. All he could hear was the sound of the wind.
He waited. He waited minute after minute. The lantern flickered before him. He watched carefully for any sign of an escape attempt. Finally, West crept up behind him, and Portman couldn't wait any longer.
He burst out of the bushes and into the clearing.
It is empty. Completely empty.
The lantern behind the nearest tree flickered again. He looked down at the ground, at the tracks scattered across the dirt floor. There is a small depression at one end of the clearing where there may be a heavy stone.
"Hell?" West asked, looking around the forest. Tall black shadows surrounded them, including dense trees and vague shadows.
Portman knelt down and picked grass in the clearing. The dirt had dried, although the rest of the forest was still soaked from the rain. He sat down and looked up at the sky above them. Directly above, through gaps in the clouds, he could see twinkling stars.
"They're gone."
