The officer let out a slow, tired sigh, finally looking up at Jacob with weary eyes. “Listen, kid,” he said, voice flat. “Do you know how many crackpot stories we hear every day? If I had a report for every ‘shadow in the woods’ or ‘mysterious figure,’ we’d have no time for actual crimes. Bring me something solid—maybe, someone will take you seriously.”
Jacob swallowed hard and slumped back into his chair. The words hit harder than he expected. He had no proof—just his instincts, his research, and the undeniable certainty that he wasn’t wrong. His fists clenched. He had seen what he had seen. And if no one else believed him, he would have to prove it himself.