"How can you be sure, Agent White? Forensic team hasn't even unloaded the gear."
The humidity in the Nebraska air was thick enough to choke the corn stalks, but Mackenzie White felt a different kind of chill—the kind that started in her marrow and radiated outward. It was the "premonition," that familiar, unwelcome guest that had haunted her since her father’s death.
"Because I can feel him watching us," she said, her eyes scanning the dark tree line. "And he’s not done with this town yet."
Here is a short story inspired by the dark, psychological atmosphere of the Mackenzie White series: The Weight of the Unseen
Intuition vs. evidence, the psychological profile of killers, and the isolation of being a female investigator in a male-dominated field.
She stood at the edge of an abandoned grain silo, the moonlight casting long, skeletal shadows across the dirt. Beside her, the local sheriff was talking, his voice a dull drone about missing hikers and "bad luck" stretches of road. Mackenzie wasn't listening. She was looking at the way the grass was matted down—not by the wind, but by something heavy being dragged.