Judy didn’t flinch. She stepped out, hand on her sidearm.
Sheriff Judy Hicks had survived Woodsboro twice. She’d outlasted Ghostface’s phone calls, the media frenzy, and the town’s whispered suspicion that she might be the killer. Now, ten years later, she sat in her cruiser at 2 a.m., parked outside the abandoned Prescott house, sipping cold coffee. sheriff from scream
The figure charged. Judy sidestepped, swept the legs, pinned them in under ten seconds. She ripped off the mask to reveal a high school kid—barely seventeen, terrified, crying. Judy didn’t flinch
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
She didn’t answer. That was the rule.