Jonas

Killed the engine and just sat there until Mitch came out with a smoke in his mouth, asking where I'd gone.

When I told him what happened, he looked genuinely confused.

Said the guy just left the name and number.

Didn't know anything about a house.

I couldn't sleep that night.

Kept replaying it in my head over and over.

The smell, the dragging sound, those arms.

Next morning, I called the sheriff's office.

Gave them the address Mitch wrote down.

They said there were no homes listed past the 30-mile Markham-Milner County line.

Said their frame that used to sit up there had burned down back in 93.

Faulty heater, apparently.

The whole thing went up overnight.

No survivors.

The blue pickup matched the description of a missing person's vehicle.

A man named Hartley Griggs went missing 12 years ago.

Left for work one morning, never showed up.

Last ping on his phone came from somewhere near the ridge.

I turned in my notice a few days later, told Mitch I appreciated the work, but I was done driving the ridge routes.

He didn't ask questions.