Gwen's Cold Blood Murders

The Past Returns

The cemetery was just as silent as it had been the night before, as if the earth itself was holding its breath. Carter stood by the freshly dug grave where Max had been buried, the thought of another child going through the same fate weighing heavily on him.

He had spent hours in the old records, piecing together the fragments of Elias Blackwood's life. The man had been an outsider, a loner, obsessed with death and the occult. He'd arrived in Oak Ridge in the late 1970s, a man with strange ideas and even stranger beliefs. He had no known family, no real connections, but he quickly became a fixture in the town's dark corners. He would often talk to anyone who would listen about his so-called "game"—a game where life and death were the stakes.

Blackwood had become infamous after a string of disappearances, all of them young boys, all of them around the same age as Max and Cody. But Blackwood never faced any charges. He had disappeared one night, leaving nothing behind—no body, no clues, just the smell of death in the air.

What if Blackwood hadn't just disappeared? What if he had faked his death, hidden himself away, and continued his "game" from the shadows all this time?

Carter's thoughts were interrupted when he saw something glinting on the ground, half-buried beneath a patch of wet grass. He crouched down, brushing aside the dirt, and uncovered what looked like an old pocket watch. The watch was tarnished, its glass cracked, but it was unmistakable. It had a symbol etched on the back—a symbol that Carter had seen before. It was the same one that appeared on Blackwood's old journals, a mark that was said to represent the cycle of life and death. The symbol of the "hunter."

Carter's mind raced. The watch had to belong to Blackwood. But why was it here, now? And why had it been buried with Max?

He didn't have time to think further, as a sudden shout from across the cemetery broke through his thoughts.

"Detective!"

Carter spun around, his heart leaping into his throat. One of the officers had found something. He was standing near the edge of the cemetery, looking down at the ground with a stunned expression. As Carter rushed over, the officer stepped aside, revealing a small, weathered box half-buried in the dirt. It looked ancient, covered in moss and grime, but it was sealed shut with a thick iron lock.

"What is it?" Carter asked, his voice tight with urgency.

The officer carefully crouched down. "I think... I think it's another one of those notes, Detective."

Carter's eyes widened. He reached for the box, his fingers trembling. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but when he opened it, he wasn't prepared for the sight.

Inside the box was a photo—one of Max Henderson. But the photo was distorted, warped, as if someone had smeared something across it. And beneath it, scrawled in the same looping handwriting as the note from Max's body, was a new message.

"The first move has been made. Will you be next, Detective?"

Carter felt a cold shiver run down his spine. This was no random killer. Whoever was behind these crimes had been watching him all along. The game wasn't just about Max or Cody—it was about him, too. And now, the hunter was turning its gaze directly on him.

The detective stood there, frozen in disbelief, knowing one thing for certain: he wasn't just hunting for answers anymore. He was being hunted.