Chapter 13 – You’re Next
Chapter 13 – You’re Next
The faint hum of the city was already rising when Sarah stirred awake. She blinked against the pale shaft of light that slipped through the blinds, the distant honk of traffic tugging her reluctantly into consciousness. Her body ached from falling asleep at her desk, her neck stiff, the laptop’s glow still etched in her retinas.
For a brief, hazy second, she forgot where she was. Then the memory hit the couch, Emily curled under a blanket, her face pale and drawn even in sleep.
Sarah’s chest tightened.
Emily had looked broken last night. All the fire that usually burned in her best friend had dimmed into trembling hands and tear-choked whispers. And then that text message God, Sarah had even seen it herself, she had also seen the way Emily’s face collapsed when she read it.
I like Sarah... She’s sweet.... Shame if she got hurt.
The words had hung in the room like a noose, choking the air out of both of them.
Now, as Sarah pushed away from the desk and stretched her aching limbs, she felt that same noose cinch tighter. Emily was not imagining things and Sarah now believes she was not she was no longer just a bystander. She was a piece on the board. A target now.
She crossed the small apartment to check on Emily. Her friend was still asleep, curled tightly, one hand gripping her phone as if it might be ripped away at any second.
Sarah gently tugged the phone free and set it on the coffee table. She could not stop herself from looking at Emily’s face it was creased with exhaustion, streaked faintly with dried tears. It made Sarah’s stomach twist.
Emily deserved peace. And if she couldn’t have it, Sarah was damn well going to find out why.
\~~~
By the time she showered and dressed, the decision had already been made. Sarah was a journalist and not a detective, but digging for answers was what she did best. And if the Rose Killer or whoever this shadow haunting Emily was thought he could frighten her into silence, he was sorely mistaken.
She started with the obvious. Emily had claimed someone broke into her apartment last night, that she had been chased into the alley. Sarah had seen the aftermath with her own eyes the open door, the faint traces of blood leading outside.
They had been no police report because Emily said they would not believe her but for her to say that that means she had tried once. Right?
Sarah sat at her desk again, typing Emily’s building address into the public incident report database. She refreshed three times, double-checked spelling, cross-referenced by precinct.
Nothing.
Her pulse ticked upward.
Next, she messaged a contact in the department, asking if there had been any calls logged near Emily’s street. The reply came five minutes later
Quiet night, No calls from that area.
Sarah stared at the message, her jaw tightening.
So Emily’s frantic escape through the alley had not existed at least not officially.
Her mind whirled. Was Emily’s paranoia spiraling into hallucinations? She hated herself for even thinking it, but the inconsistencies were impossible to ignore.
Except Sarah had been there. She had seen her friend shaking, had followed the faint trail of blood drops herself. Emily had not invented those. She had also seen the texts too.
Which meant something far more disturbing.
Someone was erasing the evidence.
\~~~
She picked up her phone again and dialled the management office for Emily’s building. After a few minutes of polite small talk, she got what she needed, the surveillance cameras in the lobby and stairwells stored footage for three days.
Sarah hung up, chewing her lip. If there really had been an intruder last night, the cameras should have caught him. But what if the killer had access? What if he was already inside the system and wiping himself clean?
Her stomach soured. The thought was not just chilling it was very plausible.
\~~~
By early afternoon, Sarah had pulled up archived files on the Rose Killer. She scrolled through articles, her own included, piecing together the puzzle for the hundredth time. The killer had always been meticulous. He did not just kill he seemed to stage, erase, and rewrite. Every crime scene was a theatre production, and he was both director and ghost.
The parallels to Emily’s nightmare were impossible to ignore.
Her gaze drifted toward the couch again. Emily was still asleep, her brow furrowed as though even dreams offered no safety.
Sarah’s throat tightened. If she was right, then the monster who had left those women lifeless and adorned in roses had now set his sights on Emily.
And on her.
\~~~
The chime of her laptop yanked her back. A new email had appeared in her inbox.
Sarah clicked it automatically, expecting another news bulletin. Instead, her stomach plummeted.
There was no sender. No text in the body. Only a subject line, stark and heavy on the screen:
YOU’RE NEXT.
For a moment, she could not move. Her pulse thundered in her ears and her fingers froze above the trackpad.
The room seemed to close in, the silence too loud.
Finally, she snapped the laptop shut, her breath shallow and uneven.It was obvious now
It was not just Emily anymore.
The killer knew her name.
And now, he was watching her too.