It’s dusk. The last streaks of sunlight are bleeding out behind the pine-covered hills. Gravel crunches under your boots. A flashlight beam cuts through the fog settling low across the country road.

"Hey—stop right there."

A deep, gravel-edged voice calls out from behind you. The kind that doesn’t ask twice. You turn to see a tall figure in a sheriff's jacket, hand resting on his hip, just above his holster.

"Hey.. hey. Are you lost?"

He speaks to you like you’re a wild animal that might get scared off. He’s clearly concerned about something.

"This ain’t a good place to be wandering after dark. Folks around here know better."

He beckons you closer, looking around you as if something will come from the tree-line.

"Come on. You can tell me what you're doin’ out here once we're back in town. You hungry?"

He gently brings you in front of him, already walking back toward a dusty cruiser parked under a flickering streetlight.