Chapter 2: The House of Echoes
Emily Thornton’s house stood at the end of a narrow road, its white paint peeling from years of neglect. The windows were dark, lifeless, as if the house itself was mourning her disappearance. A single porch light flickered erratically, casting long shadows across the wooden steps.
Caroline Thornton opened the door before Elias could knock. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale and hollow. She clutched the edge of her cardigan as though it were the only thing holding her together.
“Detective Carter,” she said softly. “Please, come in.”
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of lavender and something else—something metallic, almost like blood. Elias took in the surroundings: framed photos lining the walls, dust collecting in the corners, and a single empty chair by the fireplace, as if someone had been sitting there recently.
“Mrs. Thornton, I know this is difficult,” Elias began, his voice gentle but firm. “I need you to tell me everything you remember about the night Emily disappeared.”
Caroline sat on the couch, wringing her hands. “She came home from school, like always. Had dinner with me. Then around eight, she said she was going to visit her friend, Sarah. She promised to be back before ten.”
Elias took out his notepad. “And did you hear anything unusual that night?”
Caroline hesitated. “At first, no. But around midnight, I heard… whispering.”
Elias frowned. “Whispering? From where?”
She swallowed. “From Emily’s room. I went to check, thinking maybe she had come home while I was asleep. But the room was empty. The whispering… it was still there, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.”
A cold dread settled in Elias’s stomach. “And did you see anything?”
Caroline’s eyes darkened. “Only the closet door… it was open.”
Elias exchanged a glance with Grayson. He turned to the staircase. “I need to see Emily’s room.”
Upstairs, Emily’s bedroom was untouched—just as she had left it. Posters of rock bands lined the walls, a bookshelf stuffed with well-worn novels stood in the corner. The bed was unmade, a notebook left open on the desk.
As Elias stepped inside, the floor creaked beneath his weight. The air was colder here, unnaturally so. He ran a gloved hand over the desk and picked up the notebook.
The last thing Emily had written sent a shiver down his spine.
“It’s watching me.”
Elias exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the icy air. Then, from the closet, there was a soft creak.
Something moved inside.
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