Burning Bridges ✷ Gale Weathers

01. BACK TO WOODSBORO

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Just the thought of returning to Woodsboro had Harriet's stomach in painful knots.

But she didn't have much of a choice. Being part of the FBI had her doing things she wouldn't do in any other case, and going back to her hometown was on the top of the list of things she didn't want to do.

The plane ride was uneventful, but that didn't stop her mind from whirling. Her fingers were gripping the armrests so tight that the person sitting beside her had to pry them off because her knuckles were turning white. She'd ignored the concerned look the stranger had given her, too focused on the thoughts turning her brain to mush.

From what she'd been told about the case, the masked killer was back in Woodsboro again, and they weren't backing down. The town had had their fair share of killers and it was no surprise it was practically a ghost town now. People were moving away, and those who couldn't hid out in their homes at an attempt to keep themselves safe. But there was no hiding from Ghostface—Harriet knew that for sure.

And absolutely no one was safe.

Harriet had never been a fan of horror. All the gore and blood freaked her out. Which was ironic, considering she now worked for the FBI and worked to catch killers for a living. But she stayed far away from horror films, never having expected she'd end up in one herself.

The pilot's voice suddenly boomed from the plane's intercom, announcing that they'd be landing in a few minutes. She forced herself to relax a bit, expelling a breath she'd been holding for God knew how long. Going back to the place she grew up wasn't the end of the world. After she cracked the Ghostface case and put the bastard behind bars she'd be able to go back to New York, where she belonged. And everything would be how it should be.

Ten minutes later the plane skidded to a slow halt and passengers were being let off. Harriet immediately unfastened her seatbelt and raced to the front, nearly forgetting her carry-on in the process.

The fresh air against her face and in her lungs felt exhilarating. She scrambled to the airport and rushed to grab her things, not wanting to be stuck there any longer than she had to be. Airports made her queasy. Too many people in a hurry to get to where they needed to be.

Once she found her suitcase she left the airport and pulled out her phone from her pocket, checking for any messages her boss might've sent her. Her boss had promised her a driver to pick her up from the airport, but as she stood outside she couldn't see anyone waiting.

She was still far from Woodsboro, at least an hour away. She had no idea what she was going to do once she got there. She'd probably go to the nearest police station and explain her position, and then maybe, if she was up for it, go find the house she grew up and see if it was still standing. It was built in the 1800's, so if it wasn't completely dust now she'd be surprised.

Just as she started to type out a text to her boss, a Jeep pulled up and the driver's side window rolled down, revealing a man who looked to be around her age in a sheriff's uniform. His brown eyes were soft and a mustache grew above his upper lip.

"Hey," he greeted, gifting her with a shy little smile. "Uh, I'm Dewey. The Sheriff of Woodsboro. You're with the FBI, right? Here to work on the Ghostface case with us?"

Harriet decided she liked this man already. His smile was sweet and genuine and a little childlike. She nodded at his question. "I'm Harriet Kane. Are you my ride back to town?"