Chapter 3 - The Secret Informant
I stared at the glowing screen, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
I know what he did.
Who could possibly know?
I looked up at Detective Reynolds, who was still discussing timelines and physical evidence.
If I told her about the text, she would insist on bringing the entire police force, and whoever sent that message might bolt.
I needed that proof. I needed Luke locked away forever.
"I need some air," I lied, my voice remarkably steady. "Just a few minutes."
Reynolds nodded sympathetically. "Of course. We'll be right here."
I slipped out of the hospital, the cold night air biting at my tear-stained cheeks.
I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of the old quarry, a deserted industrial site on the edge of town.
The ride felt agonizingly slow, every shadow stretching into a menacing shape.
When I arrived, the quarry was pitch black, save for the pale moonlight reflecting off the stagnant water at the bottom of the pit.
I stepped out of the cab and walked cautiously toward the edge, my phone clutched tightly in my hand.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice echoing off the rocky walls.
A figure emerged from behind a rusted bulldozer.
It was a woman, thin and fragile-looking, bundled in an oversized coat.
As she stepped into the moonlight, I recognized her instantly.
It was Sarah Mitchell. The mother of the boy Luke had allegedly tried to drown.
"Sarah?" I breathed, my mind struggling to process her presence.
"He's going to kill her, you know," she said, her voice hollow and dead.
"Who? Addie?"
"Both of them. Addie. My son. Any child he gets his hands on."
"You said you have proof," I urged, stepping closer.
Sarah reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small, digital voice recorder.
"I found this hidden in my living room," she said, her hands trembling. "He didn't know I had security cameras installed after my divorce."
She pressed play.
The audio was scratchy, but the voice was unmistakable. It was Luke.
"You're so quiet now," he whispered on the recording. "That's good. They always learn better when they're quiet."
Then came the sound of splashing water, followed by a terrifying, gurgling gasp.
My stomach violently rebelled.
"He admitted it," Sarah sobbed. "But the police said the audio was obtained illegally. Inadmissible."
"Give it to me," I demanded, reaching for the recorder.
Before my fingers could grasp the plastic casing, a heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder.
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"I wouldn't do that if I were you, honey," a familiar, chilling voice whispered in my ear.
I spun around to face Luke, his pleasant smile now replaced by a mask of pure, predatory rage.
