24 Hours Gone

Twenty-Four Hours Gone

At 11:47 p.m., Kelsey Mercer realized she was being followed.

She didn't turn around.

The skating rink was only a few blocks behind her, its lights fading through the darkness as she walked along the empty road. Her breath came out in white clouds.

Twenty-eight degrees.

The wind cut through her jacket.

Black Ridge was usually quiet at night.

Tonight, it felt like the entire town was holding its breath.

Kelsey reached into her pocket and felt her phone.

Still there.

She almost called her father.

Almost.

Then she heard footsteps behind her.

One.

Two.

Three.

She stopped.

The footsteps stopped too.

Kelsey looked toward the road.

Nothing.

She turned slowly.

The street behind her was empty.

"Who's there?"

No answer.

She started walking again.

Faster this time.

Her phone vibrated.

A message.

Kelsey looked down.

Her face changed.

She knew the person who had sent it.

She typed three words.

Leave me alone.

The reply came almost immediately.

You should have listened.

Kelsey stopped walking.

Her heart began pounding.

She looked toward the darkness between the buildings.

Someone was there.

She couldn't see the face.

But she knew the voice when it came.

"Kelsey."

She stepped backward.

"No."

The figure moved closer.

She ran.

Her phone slipped from her hand and struck the pavement.

The screen stayed lit.

A few seconds later, the street became silent again.

By morning, Black Ridge would know Sheriff Daniel Mercer's sixteen-year-old daughter was missing.

By noon, everyone would have a theory.

By the time twenty-four hours had passed, the town would have a suspect.

And almost everything they believed would be wrong.

Because someone had made sure the evidence would point in exactly one direction.

Toward Dylan Rusk.

And somewhere in the darkness beyond Black Ridge, Kelsey Mercer was still alive.

For now.