A figure stood at the top of the stairs, shrouded in shadows.
Grayson.
Whitlock didn’t wait. She turned and fired, the gunshot ringing out like thunder.
The figure didn’t flinch.
Instead, he stepped closer, his face still obscured.
“It’s Christmas,” he said, his voice low and chilling. “Don’t you want to open your present?”
He raised his hand, and for a moment, Whitlock thought she saw the glint of a knife.
Her radio crackled again.
“Whitlock? Are you there? Backup’s on the way.”
She didn’t answer. Her focus was on Grayson—or whoever this was.
The figure turned and bolted up the stairs. Whitlock followed, her heart racing. She reached the second floor, but he was gone.
The house was silent again.
Her flashlight landed on the window at the end of the hall. It was open now, snow blowing in.
Whitlock stepped closer and looked out.
Below, in the snow, were footprints leading away from the house.
And next to them, written in the frost on the glass, were three words:
“Still watching you.”
*Proceed with Caution*
If you are easily disturbed by graphic content or are sensitive to descriptions of violence, you may want to reconsider reading this book. However, if you are a true crime enthusiast or are interested in exploring the darker aspects of human nature, then this book may be for you.
*Mature Themes and Content*
This book is intended for mature audiences only (18+ years). Parental discretion is advised for younger readers.
