Keith

The cell reeks of stale sweat and fear. I step inside, boots scuffing against the concrete floor. The man sitting on the bench looks up, eyes narrowing. His name’s Caleb—third one today. I’ve been working through the list of potential witnesses, people who might have seen what Garth claimed to see.

Another dead end, probably. But I can’t afford to assume anything anymore.

“You said you were near the northern ridge when it happened,” I say, voice low and steady.

Caleb shifts uncomfortably, shackled wrists clinking as he gestures. “I was hunting. Alone. Didn’t see anything.”

“Did you hear anything?” I press.

He shakes his head. “Just the usual...