Part 2

George Foster, head of the Piper Ridge Police Department for over fifteen years, was a tough guy. He’d served in Vietnam. He’d seen things that still woke him up in the dead of night, overseas and at home. He was a cool customer. One tough hombre. The townspeople idolized him, as well they should. He’d spent years cultivating his reputation. It was a point of pride, being jaded and unflappable. In a small town like Piper Ridge, you needed a thick skin if you wanted to survive.

Part 1

They came a little after midnight. It was a cool, crisp evening at the end of August. The moon was a sickly orange, making strange shadows across the landscape. There was a brisk wind blowing, upsetting the leaves and pulling them from the trees. The weather would have been better suited for November.