Chapter 7 – A Familiar Name
The sound came again softer this time, like weight shifting against her old floorboard.
Emily’s heart slammed against her ribs. She bolted upright, eyes darting to the shadows stretching across her living room wall.
“Emily?”
The voice made her flinch.
Sarah’s head peeked around the corner from the hallway, brows furrowed. “You are still up? I thought maybe you had passed out.”
Emily let out a shaky breath, sagging against the couch cushions. “God... Sarah, You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry.” Sarah walked in, carrying her sweater over her arm. “I just needed water before bed so i thought to also check up on you.”
Emily tried to laugh it off, but it came out too brittle. “oh... okay for a second, I thought... ” She stopped herself. If she said I thought someone else was inside my apartment, Sarah would only worry more.... Or worse, she would not have believed her at all.
Sarah tilted her head, studying her closely. “You are jumpy tonight. Still thinking about what happened?”
Emily forced a smile. “No... Just tired.”
“Mm-hmm.” Sarah clearly did not buy it, but she did not press further. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”
“Yeah, i will.” Emily lied.
\~~~
Sleep did not come.
She lay in bed staring at the ceiling, every creak of the building magnified, every hum of the radiator a phantom whisper. At 3 a.m., her eyes burned, but her body still refused rest. The necklace from the photos... the shadow in the alley... the texts.... they all looped through her mind like a cruel film reel.
When her alarm finally buzzed at dawn, it felt like she had barely closed her eyes.
\~~~
At the studio later that morning, Emily moved like a ghost. Her brush strokes faltered, paint dripping where it should not. Her canvas stared back at her in frustration lifeless... brittle.... uninspired feeling totally useless.
She shoved the brush down and rubbed her eyes. She needed distraction. She needed something different to do.
Her phone buzzed.
Alex.
Dinner tonight? Just us. My place. 7.
Emily’s pulse stumbled.
Dinner.... Alone..... At his place.
Her thumb hovered over the screen. Every instinct screamed no. But another voice whispered that maybe… maybe she needed to go. Needed to look him in the eye and decide for herself whether the man she loves could possibly be tied to Lisa Grant’s murder.
If she did not face him now, the questions would devour her alive.
Her reply felt like a betrayal of her own fear.
Okay, meet you at 7.
\~~~
The day crawled. By the time she reached Alex’s loft, the city sky was already bruised orange purple with twilight. She almost turned back twice before forcing herself finally to move up the steps.
Alex opened the door before she could knock twice. His smile was warm, it felt practised. His shirt sleeves rolled just enough to show the veins in his forearms.
“Em.” He kissed her cheek, holding her just a fraction too long. “You look… exhausted.”
She laughed weakly. “Did not sleep much last night.”
Inside, the loft glowed with soft candlelight. Something savory simmered from the kitchen, filling the air with garlic and herbs. It should have felt comforting but instead, it felt staged.
“Wine?” Alex poured without waiting for her answer. His movements were graceful.
Emily accepted the glass, though her stomach churned.
They ate in near silence at first. Alex asked about her day, her painting, little nothings that normally would have soothed her. But Emily could barely taste the food. Every nerve was strung tight, waiting for… something.
Halfway through the meal, she could not hold it in any longer.
“Alex.”
He looked up, fork midair. “Yeah?”
She set her wine down with trembling fingers. “Can I ask you something? And I need you to be very honest with me.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice stayed smooth. “Of course.”
“Lisa Grant.”
The fork clattered softly against his plate. For the first time that evening, his composure cracked.
Emily’s heart lurched. “You knew her, didn’t you?”
A beat of silence stretched thin as wire.
Finally, Alex leaned back, sighing. “Yes.”
The room tilted around her. She gripped the edge of her chair.
“How?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“We went on a few dates. A long time ago.... before you.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his tone defensive now. “It was not serious. I did not think it mattered.”
Emily’s chest tightened.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because... ” he said sharply, then softened his voice. “Because I knew how it would look. I knew you would panic. And I did not want to lose you over something meaningless.”
Her pulse pounded. “She is dead, Alex. Strangled. That’s not meaningless.”
His jaw clenched, shadows cutting across his face. “Are you saying you think I had something to do with that?”
The air thickened.
Emily’s throat dried. The truth sat on her tongue, but fear kept it there.
Alex’s eyes searched hers, too intent, too sharp. Then his lips curved into a smile that did not reach his eyes.
“You do not have to be afraid of me, Emily.”
But she was. More than ever.
\~~~
When she left his loft an hour later, the necklace she had worn hung heavy against her chest. Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out as she stepped into the night air.
Unknown Number: “He told you... didn’t he? But he didn’t tell you everything.”
Emily’s vision blurred.
Her phone buzzed again.
“Ask him what happened the night she died.”
Her legs almost gave out beneath her. She gripped the stair rail, heart hammering so hard she thought she might collapse.
Across the street, a car engine purred to life. Headlights flashed. A dark silhouette sat behind the wheel, watching.
Emily’s breath caught in her throat.
And then the car pulled away, vanishing into the city night.
She stood frozen, the glow of the message searing her skin.
If Alex admitted he knew Lisa, what else was he hiding?
And who....dear God, who.... was sending her these messages?