Ridgeview Police Precinct – A Chilling Delivery
Jane Michaels didn't flinch when the envelope slid onto her desk.
A plain, cream-colored envelope. No return address. No stamp. Just her name, scrawled in ink so dark it looked like it bled into the paper.
She stared at it for a moment before slipping on a pair of latex gloves. The last time she received a message from the killer, it was typed—a sterile, calculated warning.
This was different.
This was personal.
She slid a letter opener beneath the flap and pulled out an invitation.
A wedding invitation.
The cardstock was thick and elegant, the kind used for high-profile weddings. But the ink had smudged in places—no, not ink. Something darker.
Something red.
Her stomach twisted as she read the words:
"Jane Michaels, You are cordially invited to witness our union. 'Til Death Do Us Part."
Below the message, a single fingerprint. A bloody one.
A chill ran down her spine.
"Jesus Christ," Marcus Hayes muttered from across the desk. "That's—"
"Personal," Jane finished, swallowing hard.
She placed the letter in an evidence bag just as Chief Walter Garrison entered the room.
"You look pale," he said, frowning. "What is it?"
Jane handed him the bag.
Garrison read the invitation, his jaw tightening.
"This son of a bitch is taunting you," he said. "This isn't just a threat anymore—this is a claim."
"A claim?" Marcus asked.
Garrison exhaled sharply. "He's fixated. He's not just killing women. He's making a statement. And now, he's making it about Jane."
Jane's grip tightened around the edge of her desk.
The killer was watching. Waiting.
And now, he wanted her to know it.
Chief Garrison's Orders – Jane Under Surveillance
"I want twenty-four-hour surveillance on Michaels," Garrison ordered. "Plainclothes officers outside her apartment, rotations every six hours."
"Chief, I don't need—" Jane started.
"That wasn't a suggestion," Garrison cut in. "You're a target now, and I won't have you walking into a crime scene with your own name on it."
Marcus placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "He's right, Jane. This isn't just about the case anymore."
She sighed, rubbing her temples.
"You think he'll escalate?" she asked.
"He already has," Garrison said. "The moment he put your name on that invitation."
Jane's Apartment – The Whispering Night
Jane locked her door the second she got home.
She wasn't scared.
No, fear was too simple. This was something else.
A feeling like being watched. Like the air around her was too heavy, pressing down on her shoulders.
She moved through her apartment slowly, checking every lock, every window. The precinct had assigned a unit to watch the building, but that didn't stop the unease curling in her stomach.
She poured a glass of wine, trying to shake the feeling when—
A whisper.
Soft. Barely audible.
Right outside her window.
She froze.
The glass trembled in her grip as she turned her head, staring at the curtains. The whispering continued—low, rhythmic.
She crept toward the window, her breath shallow, and in one quick motion, yanked the curtains apart.
Nothing.
The street below was empty, save for the parked cars and dim glow of the streetlamps.
Then she saw it.
A single red rose.
Placed neatly on her windshield.
Her heart pounded as she grabbed her phone and dialed Marcus.
"Get here now," she whispered.
The Investigation Deepens – Nathaniel's Presence
Marcus arrived within minutes, gun drawn, scanning the area.
"Nothing," he muttered. "No sign of anyone."
Jane pointed to the rose. "He was here."
Marcus exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Bastard's getting bold."
Footsteps sounded behind them, and Jane turned to see Nathaniel Blackwell approaching.
He was dressed in dark slacks and a tailored coat, his expression unreadable.
"I heard what happened," he said. "Are you okay?"
Jane hesitated.
Nathaniel had a way of showing up when things turned chaotic. A quiet presence in the storm. Yet, that was what unsettled her the most.
How did he always know?
She folded her arms. "How did you hear about it so fast?"
Nathaniel's jaw tensed. "Eleanor Marks called me. She said the precinct was buzzing about a letter you received."
Jane frowned. "You and Eleanor gossip now?"
Nathaniel smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "We talk. She worries about you."
Jane studied him carefully.
Nathaniel had always been an enigma. Charming, thoughtful—but also secretive. He had an uncanny ability to know things before anyone else.
And then there was Eleanor's slip at the charity gala.
His ex-fiancée. Gone without a trace.
Jane shivered.
Marcus cleared his throat. "I'll check in with Garrison. We'll sweep the area."
Nathaniel's gaze never left Jane. "Do you want me to stay?"
Jane hesitated.
Nathaniel was comforting. Safe, even.
But was that an illusion?
She forced a smile. "I'll be fine."
Nathaniel nodded but didn't look convinced.
As he walked away, Jane couldn't shake the feeling that, somehow, she was already ensnared in something far darker than she ever imagined.
And the whispers in the dark were just the beginning.