The Bodies Of Missing Girls Have Been Showing Up In Our Small Town, And The Locals Are Starting To Fear A ‘Time Traveling Serial Killer’

“Well Bruce. Because I need to talk to you.”

Bruce’s face lit up once that sentence came out of my mouth.

“Oh yeah.”

The reason I had to get in touch with Bruce was the same I had to semi-arrest him a few months back. He owned a drone.

Back around Memorial Day I was called out to Bedford Lake because a group of high school girls reported a drone flew over their day at the beach a bunch of times and they were thoroughly creeped out. I knew Bruce was the only guy in town with one of the flying cameras so I went to his house and warned him that I would be taking the drone away the next time it was involved in peeping Tom-related activities.

Now, I was summoning Bruce’s drone, but this time, to do my own dirty work.

Bruce strapped the goggles to my face and I suddenly felt like I was flying. I am the opposite of a tech geek, but even I had to admit Bruce’s drone and face mask were amazing.

With the goggles Bruce gave me, I could see exactly what the drone was seeing as if I was flying on front of the thing, even though we were standing in my living room. I soared above the farm fields of the county, dove down to the Wolfsneck River and strafed the edge of town just a little bit by the high school.

“Here we go,” Bruce announced as I watched the camera point toward Adler Hill and the Carter compound.

“Just go around the perimeter by the warehouse,” I instructed.

“That’s the plan,” Bruce shot back.

The camera took me into the dark woods which surrounded the Carter compound at a breakneck pace until I laid eyes upon a thick steel fence, topped with razor wire which protected a large black steel warehouse. The fence seemed to go on forever without any kind of weakness.

“Shit, I don’t think we have anything there,” I announced.

“Come on, let’s try up by the house,” Bruce suggested.

“I guess we don’t have a choice.”

Bruce guided the drone further up the hill and into the thicker, darker woods, until we were at the top of the black steel fence and I was looking at a cluster of large, but dated stand-alone houses protected by the fence.

“Hold,” I instructed Bruce.

I examined the scene the drone presented me. Just about five yards past the fence and it’s 10-foot height and razor wire was the open second-story window of one of the homes.