Fraser: The Disappearance of Michael Pitts

The air lay heavy and unmoving around him. James felt as though he was pushing his way through a massive and ponderous revolving door with each step. The woods were preternaturally quiet — no animal stirred and no breeze rustled the vegetation. He slowly made his way to the edge of the river. The gurgling grew louder, but James couldn’t see anything disturbing the mud laden waters.
“What the hell is going on here?” James gasped.
“Hell doesn’t have anything to do with it, F.B.I. Man.” Wendy replied, daintily plucking his hand from her slender shoulder. Her eyes regarded him coldly before she added: “There are things you should not know.”
The gurgling drew James’ attention back to the shoreline. The sun had descended below the rise of the river valley and the entire area was cast into a thick and hazy gloom. The river ran the color of blood. Taking his penlight out with one hand, he drew his gun with the other. The penlight was ineffective in the twilight, but James anxiously flashed it up and down the shoreline searching for the source of the sound. He turned back to Wendy; but the girl had simply vanished. At the top of the trailhead, James caught sight of a bike reflector flash as Wendy sped away from the park. So much for getting information from her. What in the world could’ve spooked a kid like her anyway? Closer in, near the Sugar Shack, James saw something move out of the corner of his eye. He automatically crouched onto his aching calves and brought his pistol up.
Nothing.
At the edge of his vision, he glimpsed a shadow to his right. James spun with his weapon aimed at the disturbance. But, there was nothing. there. You’re spooked, too! He thought angrily to himself. You’re seeing ghosts… and phantoms! He lowered his weapon and turned his attention back to the gurgling river. Looking out at the river, James was startled to find a figure rising up from the water — less than twenty feet from shore! How could anyone swim in this sludge — and against that current, too?
“Michael?” James called hopefully.
No response. He could barely make the figure out against the amassing shadows.
“Who’s there?” James called again. No response. “Are you injured or…” His voice trailed off as the figure lumbered closer to the shore. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human.
At least, not anymore.

This is a full length novel (110,000 words), book one in the Jamer Rover series.