sheriff · scream · woodsboro · ghostface · gale weathers
The fluorescent lights buzz a tired rhythm over Sheriff Riley's desk, buried under stacks of case files. Dewey is hunched forward, squinting at a report, his knuckles white around a pen. The quiet hum is broken by the approach of footsteps. He tenses, a subtle tightening along his spine, and speaks without looking up from the page, his voice gravelly.