Leaves crunched under William King’s feet as he tread a path through the woods, along with around a hundred or so other people, all part of the search party for Mr. DeHaan. He had dressed in casual clothes for this; no point in getting his suit dirty when he wasn’t technically on duty. He considered this simply an act of charity to help the townspeople look for their friend, even if he was half hoping to pick up some clues in the process. At the very least, he might be able to get some more information from people who knew him.

            The sun had set around thirty minutes ago, and the last traces of light were fading from the sky. King dug a flashlight from his jacket pocket and turned it on. As he looked around him, he noticed that other people were beginning to do the same. They had gone quite a few miles into the woods at this point, but there had been assurances from the people in charge of the operation that there was nothing to worry about with such a large group, in order to dissuade concerns from some of the less adventurous citizens.

            King expected the sweep would turn back to town soon. They had covered a good distance, after all, and nothing had been found yet. To be honest, King never expected that the man would be found alive, but he was surprised that no remains at all had turned up. Perhaps he should have questioned that woman more aggressively. If there was no animal attack after all, the next likely cause was foul play. Something told him that wasn’t the case, however. He had a hunch that something else was going on here, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. And his years of experience had taught him that gut feelings were usually more trustworthy than one might expect.

            “No luck, eh?” said a voice behind him. King turned to see a withered old man with a downturned mouth that he was sure had done a lot of scolding and criticizing. Despite his hunched posture, he walked without a cane. King was surprised to see him getting around so well.

            “As expected,” King replied. “Missing people rarely turn up alive after twenty-four hours. Although I’m surprised nobody has even found a trace. I would very much like to find out what happened to him.”

            “Bah! I’ll tell you what happened to him. Being stupid, that’s what. New folk come here and think they can just wander outdoors whenever they want, regardless of the consequences.”

            “I would think you can at least expect to be safe on your own property.”

            “In the city, maybe. That’s where you’re from, right? I can tell by your accent. Things are different around here. This is a dangerous part of the country.” The old man squinted at him. “You’re some kind of detective, aren’t you? Let me give you a piece of advice, son. Get out of here while you still can. You don’t want to end up like those other three.”

            “I assure you, I– Wait a moment, how do you know about the other victims? The police have been keeping it quiet.”

            He shrugged. “People talk. It isn’t that hard to figure out if you pay attention.”

            King studied this strange man. He seemed like the kind of person who would notice things others didn’t. People like that tended to have a lot of secrets, and oftentimes those secrets were important. “What’s your name?” he asked.

            “Everyone around here just calls me Grandpa.”

            “Well then, Grandpa, do you mind if I ask you some questions when you have the time?”

            “I’m not sure that I can be of much help. I’m just an old man way past his prime, after all.”

            “An old man that apparently knows a lot more than he should.”

            “How well acquainted are you with the police?”

            “Not very. I just arrived, after all.”

            He seemed to think to himself for a moment. “I go to the café on Central Street every Saturday morning at eight o’clock sharp for a cup of black coffee. It can be a noisy place, but it’s quite cozy. If you wanted to ask me anything, that would be the time.”

            How interesting. The man seems to think that this is some sort of daytime drama, but if he really does know something I don’t… “Very well,” King said. “You have a deal. Saturday morning, eight o’clock sharp.”

            The man called Grandpa grunted to himself before hobbling away. Not exactly the most personable, he thought. But then, what do you expect? It could just be a dead end, a lunatic filled with wild conspiracy theories. But if he was serious, it could very well be the lead he needed.

            He could only hope that lead came before anyone else got hurt.