"Did that convince you?" Detective West asks his partner.

Portman shook his head, and Matt left in a beat-up truck. Raindrops and drizzles fell from the awning above the station door and turned into curtains. Portman shivered in the cold night air, confused. He's not sure what it will bring from having Carl and his friends talk, and he doesn't pinpoint exactly any real triggers, but it's still weird, to say the least.

Inside, he has a high school student with crazy delusions about magic, a fantasy world he should have visited, and a missing friend who Portman believes is somehow responsible for his disappearance. He doesn't know anything about Carl's demeanor - after a conflict with his friends.

Portman never let a case go easily. His unyielding determination has allowed a lot of partners in his career to leave him when he can easily clear a number of numbers at the first opportunity and improve his stats. West is just the latest of many companies.

"I don't know what you think, but-"

Portman interrupted. "I'm going to deal with Stockson. Go get the car. We're tracking them. ”

The West grinned. "That's what I thought."

Portman smiled and hurried back to the station. West seemed like a good choice.

They don't have sirens or lights installed at such a late hour. The road is calm. Most people are asleep. West takes them through strings of hazy green light that flicker in the rain before taking them into the labyrinthine streets of the suburbs.

Just as they were parking their car at Silverdale's residence, Portman came across a lucky opportunity. He patted West, who was already crawling slowly, and pointed to the other side of the road. Through the pouring rain, they could barely see the pickup's taillights, which turned the corner and disappeared from view. In a few seconds, the detectives won't be there.

Next came the quietest manhunt by the police. There were no cars in sight anywhere, and there was hardly any sound except for the pouring rain and the grunt of the engine. It's so bizarre, Portman thought. It's like cruising in a dream, with red taillights, pale yellow headlights, and dim street lamps overhead, glowing faintly through the raindrops. The moon was obscured by thick clouds, and they drove farther and farther away from the main road, and even the street lights were gone.

West turned off the lights, and their car was black, so Portman didn't expect to be spotted. If Matt is checking to see if anyone is following him.

If the kid was innocent, why did he drive down this road at three in the morning? Portman couldn't figure it out. Is 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 faint.

As they rounded the other corner and climbed up the hill, Portman looked around in amazement. He had been busy identifying the details of the car, not noticing their location.

"Where are we?"

"Outside of our jurisdiction," West complained. "Wait...... Fuck me. ”

"What?"

"I want to ...... Yes. We're going to Serraville Park. ”

Portman's mind was ringing alarm bells. "Are you sure?"

"I can't think of anything else worth mentioning."

Carl's story pushes his way into Portman's heart. Is this possible?

No. This is ridiculous. This can't happen. It's a child wishful thinking, escapist idea who sees something terrible and can't cope. Carl is insane and needs serious psychiatric treatment.

However, Portman could not explain what he saw. They just had to follow Matt all the time, no matter what the outcome. Maybe he will take them to find a body and bury it deep in the woods. Portman shuddered at the thought of this. Is he going to catch the murderer?

He reached into his jacket pocket and double-checked that the pistol was still at his waist.

＊＊＊

"Be careful," Portman hissed.

"I hate the forest, okay?" West got up from the dust and glared at him. "If necessary, go on your own."

They were only a few hundred feet away from a flickering lantern and were marching deep into the forest. Shortly after the park's sign appeared, the pickup stopped on the side of the road and dropped off three people — Matt, his sister, and a girl they didn't know. 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 completely wrong. They were helping her through the woods. Matt's sister leads the way, just outside the lantern, while Matt takes their friend's hand through the more difficult bushes.

West had no such companions, and in almost total darkness, he tripped over every root and thorn.

"Just put that lamp in front of you," Portman whispered, annoyed. He started out ahead and West struggled to keep up. The lights dimmed, but Portman was determined not to lose them. They continued to chase, deeper and deeper. He felt thirsty and tired due to the long hours he had been awake, but he still wouldn't let them out of his sight. He will find out and close the case, at all costs.

He noticed that the forest had become quiet. No crickets, no frogs, nothing. Only the wind, rustling leaves around them. He felt anticipation tied in a knot in his chest, knowing that something was going to happen—it would happen soon. Just as this feeling hit him, he saw the lantern suddenly stop.

How close does he dare to go? Portman crouched low, trying to move as quietly as possible. He could hear the murmurs ahead, the light moving around, the shadows moving around. As far as he knew, they had placed a lantern behind a tree, blocking the light from the open space where they were standing. Why would they do it? What are they planning?

He needed to get closer. He moved forward step by step, the ivy under his feet crumpled him. In the end, he finally understood a few words.

“… I'm still standing here?"

"I don't think it matters. We...... Hold hands. ”

"You're not sure?"

"Wow, I've never done this before."

A nervous laugh. What's going on inside? He tried to get closer, but he saw thick patches of ivy and leaves ahead. They make too much noise. The risk is too great. If he showed up now, he probably wouldn't have heard all the important things. He could only trust that if they started moving around again, or if something seemed to be going to happen, he would hear them.

"Are you ready?"

"Are you ready for something like this?"

"Oh, don't be grandstanding. Let's do it. ”

"Okay."

"You're going to be funny both. Well, hold on. ”

More mumbling, this time it sounds like speaking a foreign language. It was too quiet to hear what he was saying—if he could understand it. Portman is fluent in several languages, but this is definitely not one of them. It's not even a family's.

Suddenly, the sound stopped. Everything stopped. All he could hear was the wind.

He waited. He waited minute after minute. The lantern flickered in front of him. He carefully watched for signs of attempted escape. In the end, West was quietly closing behind him, and Portman couldn't wait any longer.

He burst out of the bushes and into the clearing.

It is empty. It's completely empty.

The lantern behind the nearest tree is flickering again. He looked down at the ground, at the railroad tracks scattered across the dirt. At one end of the clearing there is a small depression where there may be a heavy stone.

"Hell? West asked, looking around at the forest. Tall black shadows surrounded them, with dense trees and vague shadows.

Portman crouched down and picked up grass in the clearing. The soil has dried up, although the rest of the forest is still soaked with rain. He sat down and looked up at the sky above them. Directly above, through the gaps in the clouds, he could see the twinkling stars.

"They're gone."