Trail, Chapter 1: Footprints on the Stone Ground
Chapter 1: Footprints on the bedrock
The sound of the last drop of rain falling from the eaves.
Ting...
Ting...
Ting...
The basement meeting room was so quiet that the air conditioner was gently moaning.
On a long wooden table, there is only one black file.
A fifty-year-old man in uniform opens the file slowly.
Dozens of photos were spread on the table.
Every picture is a shoe mark.
There's nothing else.
No criminal face.
No car.
No weapons.
There are only tread marks stamped on damp soil.
"Is it really gone?"
Another man asked.
The head of the investigation suit nodded.
"Lost."
"How much is it worth?"
"Unassailable."
The meeting room is quiet again.
What was stolen was not gold.
Not cash.
But it's a confidential document that shouldn't be recovered from a state vault.
And worse than that,
The news hasn't come off yet.
Because if the public knew,
This agency will immediately become a clown.
A man picks up a picture.
"This is all evidence?"
"Totally."
"Shoe marks?"
"Yes"
The forensic scientist sighed.
"The owner of the trail is too light, no fingerprints, no hair, no DNA."
He pointed to the enlarged image.
"But look at this."
Everyone leaned in.
Tread marks are specific patterns.
Deep blossom
Good ground bite
Designed for steep and muddy ways.
"Trail Shoes"
Somebody said
"Yes"
The forensic scientist nodded.
"And the owner of this pair of shoes..."
He stopped a little.
. "..Use it as "
Three days later,
A small wooden house by the woods.
A man is sitting sharpening a knife in the basement.
The mess...
The mess...
The mess...
The knife is sharp until it reflects the morning sun.
A big black dog looks up at the road.
Tail wagging once.
A gray pickup truck came in.
Red dust rises behind the wheels.
The servant also sharpened the knife.
Like don't care
The car stopped.
Two men came down.
One dressed like a civil servant.
Another person wearing a normal polo shirt
"The servant?"
"Yes."
"We're from the middle."
"Yes."
"There's work to help."
The servant placed the knife.
Look at both guests
"What job?"
The man in the polo shirt handed the black file.
"Find someone."
The servant opened to see
The first sight
It's shoe marks.
He was silent for several seconds.
Then flip to the next picture.
One page at a time.
One page at a time.
One page at a time.
Until the last page.
And closed the loud file
"Runner."
The two officers immediately looked at each other.
"How do you know?"
The servant smiled thinly.
"Hiking people don't go down heels like this."
His finger knocked the picture.
"Weight poured to the face."
"Long step."
"Consistent rhythm."
"This is not a walker."
He looked up.
Don't look at anyone
"This is the man who used to run a thousand kilos."
The wind blew the rubber blades through the front of the house.
The smell of mud and nose.
The authorities began to feel that
The person in front might see more in the footprint than the whole unit expert.
The polo hem then spoke directly.
"We have four suspects."
"Then"
"All four are going to race four tracks."
The huntsman frowned.
"Let me catch you?"
"No."
"Let's go run."
The servant is still
"Woe."
. "..What? "
"You have to compete."
"Every pitch."
"Splice the suspect."
"Get to the finish line."
"Don't let anyone know you're investigating."
The servant looked at the face of the speaker.
Think in my heart "Sibe sure"
Like evaluating whether this man is completely conscious.
Before asking one word
"How long?"
The officer opened the file.
Respond in a simple tone.
"Twenty-eight kilos shortest."
The servant closed his eyes.
Quiet for a moment.
Then mumble gently.
"The unsub hasn't caught up yet..."
. "..I should die in the mountains first. "
End of chapter 1. 🌧️🏃♂️🌿








































































































