LITMIR.BIZ

      Part One. The Outcast

      The high school doors burst open as a teenage boy staggers out, his agonized screams piercing the air. His hands clutch at his face as he stumbles onto the rain-slicked grass, slipping and falling. A crowd of stunned classmates surge out after him, forming a circle around his writhing form. The teen lies on his back, his cries of pain echoing across the schoolyard. Slowly, he lowers his hands, revealing a horrifying sight to the onlookers – his face is a mask of blood, streaming down his cheeks and neck…

      "Who did this to you?" someone in the crowd cries out, their voice quavering with fear and shock.

      The injured boy's screams subside as he stares up at the turbulent sky, rain mingling with the blood on his face. After a moment of eerie silence, he utters in a low, haunting voice:

      "It was him… The Outcast…"

      Chapter 1

      The doors of the Green Vault bar swing open, spilling a cacophony of music, voices, and laughter into the quiet street. A petite brunette emerges, her shoulder-length hair damp from the misty air. She wipes tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her red turtleneck as she sets off down the sidewalk, passing by streetlights that cast long shadows across modest middle-class homes. The road ahead stretches out, deserted and dark. Suddenly, a taxi's horn blares, startling her. Without turning, she steps aside, allowing it to pass. Lost in thought, she trudges on through the drizzle, oblivious to the figure that has begun to follow her. It's only when she glances back that she notices – a tall silhouette in black, face obscured by a hood. Her pace quickens; the shadowy pursuer matches it. Heart racing, she looks back once more, realizing with growing dread that her follower is a man. For a moment, she hesitates, nearly stopping in her tracks. Then, with a burst of desperate energy, she breaks into a run. Without looking back, she veers into an unpaved alley, hoping to lose her pursuer in the darkness.

      Her hopes are dashed as she finds herself facing a dead end. Panic rising in her chest, she presses herself against the rough bark of an oak tree, willing herself to disappear into its shadows. She doesn't understand what this stranger wants, but her mind races with terrifying possibilities. She strains to listen, hearing only the soft patter of rain on leaves. Then, barely a few steps away, a twig snaps. Her heart pounds so loudly she fears it might give her away. Sweat mingles with raindrops on her palms. A paralyzing fear grips her, choking off any chance of screaming for help. In this moment of terror, her life seems to flash before her eyes. She can sense the stranger nearby, searching, closing in. Suddenly, the silence is shattered by the shrill ring of her cellphone. With trembling hands, she fumbles in her jeans pocket – it's her mom calling. The phone slips from her rigid fingers, clattering to the ground as it continues to ring. Realizing the sound has betrayed her location, she makes a desperate dash into the unknown. But in her haste, she loses her footing on the slick ground and falls hard. Fear escalates to blind panic as her throat constricts, stealing her breath away. She can't scream, can't call for help – she's trapped.

      As she struggles to her feet, she feels rather than sees the man in black looming behind her. She whirls around, horror etched on her face as his silhouette fills her vision. With deliberate slowness, he pulls a length of rope from his sweatshirt pocket. Before she can react, he loops it around her neck and begins to tighten his grip. She claws at the rope, gasping and choking, her fingers scrabbling uselessly against the wet ground as she tries to crawl away. But it's futile. As the life drains from her body, all coherent thoughts flee, leaving only the cold certainty of her impending death. The killer, sensing her last breath leave her body, melts back into the rainy night, leaving no trace behind.

      By morning, the rain has ceased, but ominous clouds still hang low in the sky, as if nature itself is mourning the night's tragic events.

      The grim discovery is made in the early hours by a janitor on his way to work. With shaking hands, he immediately dials 911.

      Word spreads quickly through the small town. Residents from nearby houses and curious passersby begin to gather, forming a somber crowd around the cordoned-off area. Horror and disbelief are etched on their faces as they whisper among themselves.

      "What happened here? Is she really dead? How long has she been lying there? Does anyone know who she is?" The questions ripple through the growing throng, each person seeking answers but finding only more questions.

      Within half an hour, the wail of sirens cuts through the morning air as three patrol cars arrive on the scene. Senior Detective Nick Larsen takes charge, his authoritative voice rising above the murmurs of the crowd as he directs them to step back. With practiced efficiency, he orders his team to secure the crime scene, allowing the investigative unit to begin their grim task.

      As Larsen approaches the body, a sense of dread settles in the pit of his stomach. With growing horror, he realizes he recognizes the victim.

      The deceased is identified as thirty-six-year-old Rose Saltano, daughter of the local sheriff, Jeffrey Saltano. Rose had been an only child, and by all accounts, had led a respectable life. There was nothing particularly remarkable about her appearance – she was petite with short dark hair and light eyes. Yet now, in death, she has become the center of a mystery that threatens to shake their quiet town to its core.

      Nick Larsen finds himself struggling to process the scene before him. How could something like this happen in their peaceful community? Despite his years of experience in law enforcement, the forty-three-year-old detective is shaken to his core. Nick had always prided himself on staying ahead of trouble, on keeping his hometown safe. With his tall stature, medium build, and kind blue eyes framed by stylishly cut dark blond hair, Nick was a familiar and respected figure in Austin. Residents looked up to him, not just as a competent detective, but as a decent man and an exemplary family man. Now, faced with this brutal crime, he feels the weight of their trust more heavily than ever.

      With a heavy heart, Nick Larsen makes the call he's been dreading – to inform Sheriff Jeffrey Saltano of his daughter's fate.

      The Saltano residence isn't far, and it's not long before the roar of an engine announces the sheriff's arrival. Jeffrey Saltano bursts onto the scene, leaping from his black pickup truck still dressed in his home clothes and slippers. He pushes through the crowd with frantic energy, falling to his knees beside his daughter's body.

      "Who did this to my little girl?" he cries out, his voice raw with anguish. "Why? She was so young… she had her whole life ahead of her!" His eyes, wild with grief, search the overcast sky as if demanding answers from a silent universe. His hands clench and unclench, trembling with a mix of sorrow and rage.

      Larsen moves to help Jeffrey, who seems to have lost all sense of his surroundings in his grief. As he supports the distraught father, Nick can't help but reflect on his complicated feelings towards the sheriff. Like many in town, Nick had never particularly warmed to Jeffrey. At fifty-eight, Jeffrey Saltano cut a rather unsightly figure – short and stout, with swarthy skin, a round face dominated by a bulbous nose, and thinning dark hair peppered with gray at the temples. His personality was as rough as his appearance – ignorant and rude, selfish and stubborn, known for achieving his goals by any means necessary. Rumors of bribery and covering up petty crimes had dogged Jeffrey for years. He seemed to have no real friends, and even his relationship with his wife Mary was notoriously strained.

      But in this moment, Nick pushes aside his personal feelings. Watching Jeffrey break down, he's struck by a wave of genuine sympathy. The loss of a child is a pain Nick can scarcely imagine, despite being a father himself to nine-year-old Gina and seven-year-old Edward. In this moment of raw grief, Jeffrey isn't the difficult sheriff – he's simply a devastated father.

      "Jeffrey,"

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