The next morning, Ray woke up early. He had spent the greater part of the night pouring over Eleanor's file, trying to put together a life that had been dramatically ended five years ago. Her last known movements were baffling—no signs of struggle, no witnesses, no motive. It was as if she had just simply walked off the face of the earth. And he had learned a thing or two during his years on the force: disappearances without tracks very seldom occurred without hidden motives.
Ray stopped for a cup of coffee at the local diner and walked over to the town square of Whispering Pines. The square itself was quiet, with only a few of the early risers sipping coffee outside the caffè or reading newspapers. He slowed, taking in the buildings: each hinted at history in its worn, cracked brick and fading paint. The town was small, but somehow, something felt. dense. Like every corner held stories that waited patiently to jump out.
"Detective."
Ray glanced up to see Officer Blake walking toward him, his face grimmer than he would have liked for the early hour. "Blake continued alongside him, dropping his voice to nearly a whisper. "I reviewed some older case files from when Eleanor was missing. There's. there's something you should know."
Ray's eyes narrowed. "Go on.
Blake paused, losing focus over the square's edge toward the dark thrust of the forest. "A few people in town claim to have seen Eleanor… after she vanished. She's been spotted by the lake, sitting on the bench where she used to spend her evenings. A few say it's a trick of the fog. Others swear it's her ghost.".
Ray's brow furrowed. He'd worked homicide long enough to know that rumors of ghosts usually meant people had left things unsaid.
"Ghost stories?" he asked dryly. "Or something more?"
Blake shrugged. "Depends who you ask. People around here believe in things that can't always be explained.".
Ray made a mental note of it. Whispering Pines was beginning to feel like the sort of town where old wounds were left to fester in silence.
They walked to the lake: a still and eerie body of water which stretched out beneath the morning fog. Ray saw a bench some few yards from the shore, worn and faded as if abandoned to the ages. A shiver ran through him, though he told himself it was the cold.
"This is where she used to come?" he asked, nodding toward the bench.
Blake nodded. "Almost every evening. People say she liked to sit here for hours, just watching the water.".
Ray walked towards the bench, crunching through damp grass under his feet. When he reached it he stopped, feeling an odd pull. Nothing special for sure about the spot-the very old bench facing a quiet lake. But still, he couldn't shake that something lingered here, some presence that made hair stand up on the back of his neck.
"She left everything behind," Ray said, his eyes scanning the lake. "No signs of a struggle. No belongings found. It's as if she just… vanished."
Blake nodded, his face somber. "That's what makes it hard to move on. Everyone knew Eleanor, and nobody saw it coming. She wasn't the type to run away. She had roots here, you know? A life."
Ray leaned back, allowing Blake's words sink in. People do not just disappear, without a motive, without an inkling of what may be wrong. And then there was Eleanor-a woman who seemed to tie herself in with the community. did not add up.
Ray turned to Blake. "What about her family? Her friends? Did anyone notice anything unusual before she went missing?
But then Blake paused, his gaze wandering away. "Her family is upstate," he said. "She had a few really close friends. Chloe was the closest. They sort of grew up together."
Ray thought of Chloe Myers, with her guarded eyes and her carefully chosen words. There'd been something in her expression when they'd spoken—an edge of guilt, or perhaps something she wasn't ready to reveal.
"Chloe said they were best friends," Ray said, more to himself than to Blake. "She must know more than she's letting on."
Blake nodded, though his face looked troubled. "Chloe… well, she took it hard. Blamed herself for a long time, I think. She never talks about it, not to anyone around here."
Ray felt a pang of sympathy, but he'd always been a detective first, and now more than ever, he knew not to let sympathy override his judgment. If Chloe was concealing something, he had to find out what it was.
As he turned to walk away, a shiver ran down over him that he couldn't explain. He stepped back, looking behind him over his shoulder, halfexpecting to see something there. But the water was flat and the bench was empty.
"Detective Collins.
Ray looked up to see Chloe standing a few feet away, her gaze fixed on him with an intensity that was both unnerving and simultaneously intriguing. She wore a wool coat, pulling it around her slender frame, and her hair, normally tidy and pulled back, flowed loose today, framing her face, throwing a temporary ethereal look in the morning mist.
"I didn't expect to see you here," Ray said, the sound of his voice steady.
Chloe gazed out at the lake, her face unattached. "I come here sometimes… to remember. This was Eleanor's place. It is where I feel closest to her."
Ray regarded her as if searching for clues to her mood. "I hear you were close. Best friends."
She nodded, her eyes crossing over to the distance. "She was like a sister to me. We grew up together. Did everything together.
He scrutinized her face; her fists were clenched on either side of her legs. "Did she say anything to you, before she went missing? Anything that might give some clue as to why this happened?"
Chloe looked away once more, this time glancing towards him with a wary expression. "Eleanor wasn't one to have secrets. or so I assumed. Anyway, in the last few weeks before she left, she was. aloof. Preoccupied.
"Did you ask her about it?"
"Yes," Chloe whispered, almost inaudibly. "She said it was nothing. But I knew something was wrong. She started acting…don't know, paranoid. I remember her constantly looking around her shoulder, like someone is watching her."
Ray's attention became sharp. "Did she say who?"
Chloe shook her head, a flicker of pain crossing her face. "No. She didn't want to talk about it. I thought. I thought she was going through something, you know? I didn't push her. And then. she was gone.".
There was a shiver in her voice, a raw edge Ray hadn't heard before. Guilt was in her eyes-the regret that clung to her like a shadow.
"Chloe," he said softly, his voice more compassionate than he intended. "Whatever happened to Eleanor… it's not your fault."
And that's when she turned to him, with tears unshed. "I would have done more," she said. "I should have been there for her."
Ray put a hand on her shoulder, reaching forward to set it comfortably by her side. It was intended as comfort, but his touch lingered, embers flaring between them that he did not imagine they would smolder into. Chloe's breath caught, her eyes tearing onto his, the tension between them, in that instant, rippled like an electric charge, as though some secret particular only to them could be understood.
He coughed, jerking back his hand. "I am here now. I will find out what happened to her. I promise."
Chloe's smile was small and grateful. "Thanks, Detective.".
As she backed away to leave, Ray could not help a strange wash of regret. There was something about her-a vulnerability, a strength-that drew him in. He knew he needed to be careful; he knew he should keep his distance, but he also knew that she held part of the puzzle and that if he wanted to find Eleanor, he could not ignore Chloe's part of the story.
Ray watched the retreating figure, a sense of unease settling over him. He had a feeling this case was just beginning to unfurl and that Chloe Myers was far more entrenched within the mystery than he was seeing.
And as he turned his back on the lake once more, with mist swirling about him, he knew that he didn't know; that they were not alone. That somehow, hidden in the swirling mists, Eleanor was watching, waiting for him to uncover the truth.
And for the very first time, Ray felt a kind of faintest foreboding of fear.