The Ridgeview Police Precinct was eerily quiet, the hum of overhead lights buzzing faintly against the oppressive silence. Most of the officers had gone home for the night, leaving a skeleton crew behind. Detective Jane Michaels sat at her desk, poring over the Bride Killer case files for what felt like the hundredth time.
Her mind raced with fragments of evidence, haunting letters, and the macabre scene at St. Matthew's Church. The killer was escalating, and Jane knew she couldn't afford to slow down, even if Chief Garrison had officially ordered her off the case.
Marcus Hayes sat across from her, sipping a cup of coffee that had gone cold an hour ago. His usual sharp demeanor was muted by the late hour and the weight of the case.
"You know, you should really go home," Marcus said, breaking the silence. "It's almost midnight, Jane. You're running yourself ragged."
Jane didn't look up from the file she was scrutinizing. "I can't. Not with him out there. He's taunting us, Marcus. Every second we waste is another second he could be planning his next move."
Marcus sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I get it. I do. But you're no good to anyone if you burn yourself out. Plus..." He hesitated, his tone shifting. "Nathaniel's been hanging around the precinct a lot lately. People are starting to talk."
That got Jane's attention. She set down the file and looked at him, her expression guarded. "What are they saying?"
Marcus shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just that it's unusual for someone who's not law enforcement to take such an interest in a case. Especially this one."
Jane's stomach tightened. She couldn't tell Marcus about her growing suspicion of Nathaniel—not yet. Instead, she deflected. "Nathaniel's just... concerned. It's not a big deal."
Marcus raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Concerned enough to show up here almost every day? Jane, are you sure there's nothing more going on?"
Before Jane could respond, the phone on her desk rang, the shrill sound slicing through the quiet precinct like a knife. Both detectives froze, their eyes locking.
"Who the hell is calling this late?" Marcus muttered.
Jane picked up the receiver, her hand trembling slightly. "Detective Michaels," she said, her voice steady despite the unease coiling in her chest.
There was silence on the other end of the line, followed by a faint, distorted crackle. Then, a voice spoke—low, gravelly, and warped as if run through a voice modulator.
"Good evening, Detective."
Jane's grip on the phone tightened. "Who is this?"
The voice chuckled, a sound that sent a chill down her spine. "Let's just say... I have information about your Bride Killer."
Marcus leaned closer, his expression darkening. Jane held up a hand, signaling him to stay quiet. "What kind of information?" she asked, her tone sharp.
"Meet me at the Ridgeline Quarry. Alone," the voice said. "You have thirty minutes."
"Why should I trust you?" Jane demanded.
The voice chuckled again. "Trust is such a fragile thing, isn't it? You'll come, Detective. You can't resist chasing the truth. Oh, and one more thing..."
The voice dropped an octave, becoming disturbingly familiar—almost like Nathaniel's. "Don't keep me waiting, Jane."
The line went dead.
The Quarry
Jane arrived at the Ridgeline Quarry just after midnight. The air was cold and heavy with mist, the moon casting an eerie glow over the jagged cliffs and deep shadows. Her flashlight cut through the darkness as she navigated the uneven terrain, her heart pounding in her chest.
The quarry was silent except for the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional drip of water echoing in the distance. She felt exposed, vulnerable, but she pressed on, determined to find the source of the call.
Near the center of the quarry, she spotted something glinting in the beam of her flashlight—a single red rose lying on a rock. Beside it was a folded note.
Jane's stomach twisted as she picked up the note, her hands shaking.
"Not yet, Detective."
Her blood ran cold. She scanned the area, her flashlight sweeping over the shadows, but there was no sign of anyone.
"Dammit," she muttered under her breath.
The Arrival of Marcus and Nathaniel
Back at the precinct, Nathaniel Blackwell had shown up unannounced, a concerned look on his face.
"Is Jane here?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.
Marcus was halfway out the door, his coat slung over his shoulder. "She's not. She just left for the Ridgeline Quarry."
Nathaniel frowned. "What? Why would she go there?"
Marcus hesitated. "We got a call—a lead on the Bride Killer. She went alone."
Nathaniel's expression darkened. "Are you kidding me? Why would you let her go alone?"
"I didn't let her do anything," Marcus snapped. "She made the call. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get out there before something happens."
"I'm coming with you," Nathaniel said firmly.
Marcus hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. Let's go."
The two men arrived at the quarry a short while later, their flashlights cutting through the darkness. They found Jane near the center, standing rigidly by the rock where the rose and note had been left.
"Jane!" Marcus called, rushing over.
She turned to face them, her expression a mix of frustration and fear. "What are you two doing here?"
"We came to make sure you didn't get yourself killed," Marcus said.
Nathaniel stepped forward, his concern evident. "Jane, what the hell were you thinking? Coming here alone? This is exactly what he wants."
Jane's eyes flicked to Nathaniel, suspicion flaring briefly before she masked it. "I can handle myself."
"Clearly," Nathaniel said bitterly, gesturing to the rose and note. "And what is this supposed to be? Another one of his sick games?"
Marcus crouched down, examining the rose and note. "He's toying with us. He knew you'd come, Jane. He knew you couldn't resist."
Jane crossed her arms, her mind racing. The distorted voice on the phone had sounded so much like Nathaniel's. And now here he was, showing up again, always in the right place at the right time.
But she couldn't let her doubts show—not yet.
"We need to get this back to the lab," Marcus said, bagging the evidence. "Maybe there's something we missed."
Nathaniel placed a hand on Jane's arm, his touch gentle but firm. "Please, Jane. Stop taking these risks. You're too important to get caught up in his game."
Jane pulled away, her heart pounding. She forced herself to meet his eyes, searching for any hint of deceit. "I'll be fine," she said, her voice steady.
But as they left the quarry together, Jane couldn't shake the feeling that the game was just beginning—and that the man standing beside her might not be who he seemed.