#rurrie if you're seeing this

[lilibethdrawsreylo]

Sneak peek

I'm working on my next hackearney fic, and while I still have several months of writing ahead of me, I can share a short sneak peek with you. No beta, but very mysterious. ;)

Laura comes to North Kill for a grad school research project. Travis is a supernatural entity (kinda?) that pretends to be a sheriff when he encounters people in the woods. The actual sheriff is in on it; here, Laura comes to see him after a brush with a very human danger.

...Laura kinda hoped she was gonna need an appointment or something—to turn tail and come back later. But the receptionist nods at her after saying Laura’s name into a dated office phone’s receiver and stands up to show her the way, as if getting lost between unoccupied desks was a real possibility. It says Sheriff H. Hunnem right there on the frosted glass door.

She knows instantly this isn’t him. While technically she could be looking for a deputy, her gut has been telling Laura she needs the sheriff, and she’s been… bracing, almost, for coming face to face with him. Why, Laura cannot say—not that it matters at the moment.

Sheriff Hunnem is a stocky, older man—probably well into his seventies—with light eyes and drooping gray mustache tinged yellow from nicotine. And he is not the cop who saved her.

“Miss Kearney,” he grouches, rustling through a stack of paper next to his elbow. Finding a dog-eared sheet, the sheriff squints at it. “You left a message about setting up cameras in Hackett Woods, that right? Thought one of my deputies would’ve gotten back to you about that by now.”

“He did, yes.” Feeling like an intruder now that she realized her mistake, Laura perches on a bare wooden chair in front of Sheriff Hunnem’s desk. “That’s not why I’m here, sir.”

“Oh?” Folding the sheet of paper, he places it to the side and directs her a questioning look. “Well then, how may I help you, Miss Kearney?”

“It’s about the man who died. In the, uh, red truck?” Laura shifts uncomfortably under the sheriff’s weary gaze. “There was an article in the North Kill Gazette….”

“That’d be Andrew Mayfield,” he nods. “Nasty fella—over and done with, thankfully, but if you have something to report—”

“I believe—” Breath catches in Laura’s throat, and she has to curl her fingers into fists to mask the sudden tremor. “I believe he intended to attack me yesterday, on Route 919. But he didn’t because there was a, an officer on, I guess, on patrol?” She inhales sharply through her mouth. “I just— I wanted to….”

Leaning forward, Sheriff Hunnem presses a button on his desk phone. “Rosie, bring Miss Kearney some water, will ya? Got a bit of a situation here.”

A minute later the receptionist appears with a full plastic cup and too sympathetic look of someone aching for fresh gossip. Laura thanks her with barely any voice coming out. She drinks the offered water in small, controlled sips, wildly embarrassed at how over the top a reaction she had, considering that nothing happened to her. As far as she’s aware.

Once it’s just the two of them and Laura has calmed down, the sheriff speaks again. “Miss Kearney… I won’t press you for details right now. However, what I can tell you is that none of my guys came across that Mayfield bastard yesterday. So, either your guardian angel wears a uniform, or that officer of yours simply happened to pass through the county. 919 connects two major highways. We get a lot of strangers here,” he sighs, “good and bad.”

“Guess I met both,” Laura mutters, and Sheriff Hunnem chuckles dryly.

“Guess so.”

She goes to push her chair back but stops. “Sir, if somebody was passing through, they couldn’t be on foot, right?”

“...Excuse me?”

“I… don’t think I saw a police car,” Laura admits. She wasn’t sure of it until the words formed on her tongue, sour. Now that they’re out, she can see it clearly in her mind’s eye: no car where there should’ve been one. 

Christ, she must be going through some sort of a mental break.

To his credit, although visibly alarmed, Sheriff Hunnem doesn’t outright call her a crazy woman. “Look, miss,” he says after clearing his throat, “it’s a tough thing to deal with, a close call like the one you had, but I recommend you don’t dwell on it.” He opens his palms in a pacifying gesture. “You are alive and well—at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.”

Recognizing the end of the conversation for what it is, Laura nods in agreement and stands up, feeling numbness spread through her following her earlier outburst. Get it together, jeez.

“Thank you for your time, sir.” She manages a tense smile, ready to flee, but before Laura can open the door to the main office area, the sheriff calls her name again.

“About that project of yours, with the cameras and all. Make sure you’re out of the woods by nightfall.” He looks her in the eye, and a shadow of an elm tree outside the room’s only window cuts through the space as the sun blinks from behind patchy clouds. “We’ve got way more predators who feel at home in the dark.”