Chapter 25: Fourth Girl Down

Chapter 25: Fourth Girl Down
Lena laced up her running shoes just as the sun started to bleed orange across the sky. It felt like a normal morning: rhythmic jogging down tree‑lined paths in Riverside Park, the other runners breathing in sync.

But something had shifted.

Since Ethan’s arrest, the world trembled beneath her feet. The weight of grief and relief twined in her chest like a tight knot.

Her fingers tapped her running app. She’d tracked the earlier victims—Dana, Jessica, Victoria. Their profiles popped up, their user handles fading from the leaderboard after death.

She sighed and pressed Start. Temp: 12°C. Pace: slow. Heart: watchful.

Midway through mile two, she rounded the corner near the old fountain, where water arched silver droplets in the dim dawn light. She slowed, scanning ahead.

There—a cluster of police cars. Yellow tape flapping.

Her breath stopped. The memory of Kara’s images, the missing year, the perfume box… all roared in her head.

She stopped her watch.

The app pinged: New user alert—RiversideParkJogger, age 28.

Below: steps—10,000 logged. Last active: yesterday.

Lena’s phone buzzed. She lowered it, staring at the yellow tape.

She crossed the grass. Uniformed officers whispered behind tape.

A detective looked at her.

“Happened this morning.”

Lena’s throat closed.

“Body found just beyond that clump.”

She walked closer.

The victim lay face-up on the turf. Eyes closed, wrist still in an open-arched pose. Beside her: a phone. The jogger’s app still running, showing heartbeat and time stamps.

Lena’s stomach flipped.

“She was one of the users,” an officer whispered.

She knelt beside the body. Pale face. Brown hair splayed like a halo.

Perfume aroma ghosted in the air.

She swallowed.

Detective Ray approached. Lena’s chest clenched.

He crouched beside her. “Lena—back away.”

She stared at the screen: RiversideParkJogger.

Heart rate history matched earlier victims—steady, then rapid pulse, then flatline.

Lena swallowed again. “He’s here.”

Ray nodded quietly. “We arrested someone in custody. But… we never ruled out copycats.”

The scent grew sweeter.

Lena touched her wrist.

Saw the pendant still in her hair—covering her micro‑recorder. She froze.

“Input—matching perfume on her body,” Ray said softly.

Lena stifled a sob.

“That’s the fourth. Park. App. Same pattern. No forced entry. No anything but death.”

Her vision blurred.

She remembered crossing that path just minutes earlier. She could have been running alongside her.

Had met the same fate.

Kara arrived behind her, silent. Ray gestured.

“We need you to identify her. From distance.”

Lena nodded, shaking.

They stepped behind the tape.

She looked. Brown hair. Slim build. Running outfit. She had the same wristband—a peach‑colored sweat band worn by three others too.

Lena rose. Ray cleared steps.

“That is her,” she said.

Ray closed his eyes. “We’re working it.”

Kara took Lena’s arm. “Let’s go back to your place.”

Back at Lena’s apartment, afternoon light was harsh. The air smelled faintly of coffee and fear.
Lena sat across from Detective Ray at her small table. Kara hovered.

He slid photos: scene images, app metadata, recap lines.

“She joined the same network on Chime. Same workout group. Connected.”

Lena took a shaky breath.

“We confirmed prints on park fountain rail match the prints lifted from previous three—victim one and four.”

Her eyes widened. “So it wasn’t just one killer.”

Ray nodded. “Or he recruited someone. Or trained himself earlier.”

Lena closed her eyes. “You said we’d caught him.”

“We caught someone.” Ray’s voice was sad. “But whoever’s out there, is still running among us.”

She stood. “I have to remember this place.”

Her head throbbed.

Kara followed quietly.

Later that night, Lena retraced her route in her mind.
She opened her running app and scrolled back. RiversideParkJogger—profile still there.

She tapped Report user. Painted worn paint across her chest: RiversideParkJogger is deceased. App acknowledged.

But the username still existed.

The guilt roared: he was watching them through the app. They were like windows into their steps.

She paused the timeline.

Outside, sirens hummed in the distance.

Smoking turned cold.

She stared at her pendant box.

Inside: a single moonstone necklace—hers.

Three missing pendants were now evidence. None worn in her hair.

She pressed her palm to the cold glass.

In her dreams that night, she heard footsteps behind her on the trail. Then:
“Don’t look back.”

She opened her eyes.

Morning, the press bangs: “Fourth woman killed. Same district. Running app match. Police searching for copycat or accomplice.”
Her apartment keyed with texts.

From Kara: “I’m coming over. Detective wants to meet.”

From Ray: “Meet at precinct at 10.”

She let the phone fall.

At the precinct, Ray greeted her with solemn eyes.
“We found camera footage.”

He clicked a clip.

Footage showed a man jogging behind victim—wearing a sweatshirt. Same posture—same stride Ethan used with Lena.

But face shadowed.

Lena clenched her jaw.

“It’s not him.”

Ray looked away. “But build is similar. Same build. But the phone ping data shows two active logins that night.”

There were two suspects.

Ray exhaled. “Now we are looking at a second runner.”

Lena closed her eyes. “One who never wears perfume. He’s only the follower.”

Kara took her hand. “We need rest.”

Lena nodded, grief breaking.

That evening, Lena jogged slowly in the park—behind tape, behind memories. She paused. She inhaled.
Perfume breeze blew faint.

She stepped off the path.

Ran her hand along the fountain rail.

Reported prints. Allowed grief to rise, raw.

Her app pinged a notification:

New match: “StaticShadow37.”

She froze.

Then deleted the account.

Deleted Chat match.

Later, in her apartment, she opened the box with the remaining pendant.

One moonstone necklace—hers.

She lifted it above the flash drive.

Her lips trembled.

“You’ve been holding me for safety,” she whispered. “But the world... still runs. And there are faces behind me I never knew.”