Start from the beginning
Jackie’s eyes narrowed, her expression cold and sharp as she stood in the small, fluorescent-lit room of the police station. “What if Archie is lying?” she said firmly, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet space. “What if he’s not the hooded man at all? What if it’s Dr. Adrian Santos? Think about it—if Aubrey is gone, he can be with Bea. And if Adrian wanted her gone badly enough, killing her would be the easiest way. Or…” she paused, her tone hardening, “it could be someone else entirely. There are too many possibilities.”
Alisha’s lips pressed into a thin line. She nodded slowly. “You’re right. We can’t get tunnel vision on one suspect. We need something more specific, something solid. A real piece of proof that points to the actual killer.”
Joel leaned back in his chair with a grim look. “I agree. But still, Archie shouldn’t be walking around free. He’s dangerous.”
“Yeah,” Sam added, folding his arms. “Even if he didn’t kill Aubrey, trespassing into Jackie’s home and abusing Mia? That’s more than enough to lock him up.”
Jackie’s jaw tightened. “Exactly. And don’t forget—he tried to touch Alisha too. That man has no shame.”
The police officer sitting behind the desk nodded reassuringly. “Don’t worry. We’re not going to let Archie go. He’s already facing charges, and if there’s even a hint he’s connected to these disappearances, we’ll push harder.”
Jackie leaned forward, her voice low and dangerous. “If you need to, break him. Make him talk. Torture him if you have to. I don’t care what it takes—get the truth out of him.”
The officer’s eyes flickered, a little uneasy, but he nodded again. “We’ll get it done.”
The tension in the air lingered like an unspoken shadow. Alisha, Joel, and Sam exchanged looks, then rose to their feet. “We’ll leave you to it,” Alisha said softly.
Jackie stood too, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. “I’ll keep you updated,” she said, her tone resolute. “If the police manage to make Archie admit the truth, you’ll know right away.”
“Thanks,” Alisha replied, giving her a faint smile before they turned to go.
Mia stood quietly near the wall, her hands wringing together. She didn’t speak, only giving them a small nod goodbye. There was something haunted in her eyes, as if she was holding back more than she was willing to say.
Outside, the cool night air met them like a slap, heavy with the faint scent of rain and damp concrete. They made their way to the van parked under the flickering streetlamp. Sam slid into the driver’s seat while Joel took the passenger side. Alisha climbed into the back, her folder of files clutched to her chest.
The van’s engine roared to life, and the headlights sliced through the dark. They pulled away from the police station, the streets quiet except for the low hum of the motor.
Sam kept his eyes on the road, breaking the silence first. “So… where to now? What’s our next move?”
Alisha exhaled slowly and opened the folder on her lap. Papers rustled as she sifted through them. “Aubrey Moore,” she said after a moment. “She’s the last woman who went missing. But if we want to understand the bigger picture, maybe we need to start from the beginning.”
Joel glanced over his shoulder. “You mean the first woman who disappeared?”
“Yes,” Alisha said, flipping to a page with a photo. A smiling young woman with dark hair stared back at them. “Audrey Miller. She vanished eleven months ago. No body. No leads. Just… gone.”
Sam’s brows furrowed. “That’s a long gap between her and Aubrey. You think it’s the same person taking them?”
Alisha’s eyes hardened. “I think whoever it is has been doing this for a while. And if we can find out what happened to Audrey, maybe we can figure out who’s behind all of them.”
Joel’s voice was low. “And maybe find Aubrey before it’s too late.”
The van rolled on through the darkened streets, streetlights stretching long shadows across the wet pavement. Alisha stared down at Audrey’s picture, her mind buzzing with questions. Eleven months. So much time for evidence to disappear, for people to forget, for memories to fade.
She wondered if the killer was counting on that.
The rain began to fall lightly against the windshield, the steady patter filling the silence. Sam slowed as they passed an old, rusted sign pointing toward the outer part of town—the area where Audrey had lived.
“Do we even know if her house is still standing?” Joel asked.
“Only one way to find out,” Alisha replied, her tone quiet but resolute.
They drove deeper into the outskirts, where houses grew sparse and the streetlights fewer. The road twisted into long stretches of darkness, broken only by the van’s beams. Every shadow seemed to move in the corners of their eyes, and the air felt thicker somehow.
Finally, Sam turned down a narrow, overgrown lane. At the end of it, shrouded in darkness, sat an old wooden house. Its windows were black holes, and the roof sagged slightly in the middle. The paint had long since peeled away, leaving gray, weathered boards.
Sam cut the engine, and the sudden silence pressed against their ears.
“That’s it,” Alisha whispered.
Joel frowned. “Looks abandoned.”
“Yeah,” Sam said under his breath. “But abandoned houses still hold secrets.”
They climbed out of the van, the gravel crunching beneath their shoes. The air was colder here, and Alisha felt the prickling sensation of being watched.
As they drew closer, a faint creak came from inside the house.
They froze.
Joel glanced at Sam, then at Alisha. “What the...Please tell me that was the wind.”
But Alisha didn’t answer. She was staring at the door, where it seemed—just for a second—a shadow had moved.
No one spoke. The creak came again, louder this time.
And then… a slow, deliberate sound of footsteps began from somewhere deep inside the dark house.