Blood in the Ozarks

2. Enter the Woods

Little Bluff was a charming place with a bustling downtown area and a local college branch that filled the town each fall and left it quiet during the summer. As I drove through I passed more churches than gas stations and a high school that boasted with pride about its football team. Other than the man yelling at the corner, I didn't encounter much foot traffic on my way through town.

Although I wasn't there to actually visit the town at all. The crime scene I was heading toward was right outside Little Bluff.

Normally, I liked to go to my hotel first and prep before heading out to survey the crime scene. But there was no time for that on this particular trip. The most recent victim was waiting for my arrival and the locals were holding everything until I could get there.

I took a sharp turn on to a gravel road trusting the GPS knew where I was going and marveled at the dense trees to either side of the road. I'd never been to Arkansas before. In fact, I don't know that I had been somewhere so rural before. My normal beat was more metropolis and less forest.

A shock of nerves ran through my body with the realization. I was finally on my own. Finally given my own case. Finally trusted to work without a superior rechecking my every step. Finally free.

I'd been working for the Federal Bureau of Investigations for going on five years and the Classified Investigations Unit for four of those. It had taken a lot of work to get where I was, but I was there at last. Driving myself and myself alone to start an investigation. That meant if anyone else came in I would be the lead. Not that I expected anyone else. I was gifted my own case, but only because the crimes were textbook characteristics of a fiend attack. Not that there was a textbook for this sort of thing.

The first victim in Little Bluff was a college student that had been mauled while out jogging. Not anything to raise red flags, but the details reported were enough to spark federal interest. Then a second body showed up and my supervisor asked if I wanted to check things out. A couple hours later I was on a plane to the middle of nowhere.

The gravel road began to widen and as I approached I found a swarm of responder vehicles parked in the clearing. On a normal day the lot probably hosted cars for hikers who were looking to spend a day in the Ozarks. In the brief I read on the plane I was told the victim was likely one of these hikers, but had been dragged off the marked path.

Getting out of the car, I decided to leave my computer and bag in the car. I threw on my FBI flack jacket against the chilled breeze outside and watched as the wind blew leaves loose from the wall of trees surrounding the trails. I patted my pockets to make sure I had my phone and keys before shutting the car door and making my way into the woods.

Autumn leaves crunched under my boots the farther I went into the dense forest. The only other sound around me was the slow inhale and exhale of my own breath as I tried to keep my breathing even and quiet. 

A bright patch of crimson caught my eye as I climbed further up the path. Curiosity got the best of me and I followed the red streaks away from the marked trail. The splashes of blood were so minute, but I wondered if this would lead to where my victim had been moved. Stopping a few yards from the trail I'd been following, I leaned down to inspect the out of place red mark waist high on the trunk of a tree.

I ran my finger across the edge of the red slash then stood up to inspect the smear. Rubbing my fingers together testing the consistency I tried to determine the origin. It was hard to tell if the red stain across the trunk was from an animal, my victim, or something far more sinister. The blood seemed fresh enough, but not quite the right—.

The distinct click of the hammer of a gun rang loudly in my ears, and my entire body tensed. My heart sank as I slowly stood up, lifting my hands above my head. I had gone from predator to prey in a matter of seconds.