Whispers in the Dark

Sam's POV

My phone crashes to the floor as the scary voice echoes in my head: "Sofia was just the beginning, Detective. We have so many more."

I grab the phone with shaking hands, but the line is dead. My heart pounds so hard it hurts. That voice didn't sound human. It sounded like death itself.

A knock on my office door makes me jump.

"Ms. Rivera? You okay up there?" Murphy's voice calls from the hallway.

I try to answer, but my throat is too dry. The knock comes again, harder this time.

"Just a second!" I croak.

I splash cold water from the bathroom sink on my face and try to look normal. When I open the door, Murphy stands there carrying a steaming cup of coffee and looking worried.

"Heard something crash. Everything alright?"

"Just dropped my phone." I take the coffee with thankful hands. "Thanks for this."

Murphy steps inside and closes the door behind him. His kind face turns serious.

"Listen, Sam. Can I call you Sam? I need to tell you something important."

"Of course. What is it?"

He walks to my window and peers down at the street. "This is a beautiful place, but you need to keep your nose clean. People who ask too many questions don't stay long."

"What do you mean they don't stay long?"

Murphy turns around, and I see fear in his eyes. Real, bone-deep fear.

"They disappear. Or they have crashes. Or they suddenly decide to move away and never contact anyone again." He sits down heavily in my desk chair. "I've lived here my whole life. Sixty-three years. I've seen it happen over and over."

"Seen what happen?"

"Outsiders come to town. Smart ones, usually. Reporters, detectives, people like you. They start asking questions about lost kids, about accidents that don't make sense, about the Blackwood family." Murphy's voice drops to a whisper. "Then they're gone."

I sit on the edge of my desk. "The Blackwood family. You mean Eleanor?"

" Her grandma started it. Her mother continued it. Now Eleanor runs the show." Murphy stands up and paces to the window again. "That family has owned this town for over a hundred years. What they say goes. What they want happens."

"Murphy, what aren't you telling me?"

He's quiet for a long time. Finally, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out an old picture. It shows a group of children standing in front of the town hall. They're all happy and laughing.

"Recognize any of these kids?" Murphy asks.

I study the picture carefully. The children look happy and normal. Just regular kids from a small town.

"Should I?"

"Every single one of them is dead." Murphy's voice shakes. "This shot was taken twenty years ago. Within two years, all twelve of these kids had 'accidents.' Car crashes, drownings, falls from hills. All ruled accidental by the cops."

My blood turns cold. "That's impossible. Twelve kids don't just die in two years."

"Tell that to their parents. Most of them moved away after the funerals. The ones who stayed and asked questions..." Murphy shrugs. "Well, they had accidents too."

I look at the photograph. Twelve innocent faces smiling at the camera. All dead.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're different." Murphy takes the picture back and tucks it away. "Most people who come here are running from something small. Bad job, bad marriage, bad debt. But you're running from something big. Something that matters."

He's right. Sofia matters. She's the reason I can't sleep, can't eat, can't look at myself in the mirror without seeing failure.

"How do you know about my case in LA?"

"I don't. But I know shame when I see it. And I know someone who won't give up." Murphy heads for the door. "Be careful, Sam. Eleanor Blackwood has ways of finding out everything about everyone. If she thinks you're a threat..."

"She'll what?"

Murphy pauses with his hand on the handle. "She'll add you to her collection."

"What collection?"

But Murphy is already gone, leaving me alone with more questions than answers.

I spend the next hour setting up my computer and trying to access the internet. But every time I look for information about Tidewaters or missing children, my connection dies. Every time I try to call my old partner in LA, the call won't go through.

It's like the town doesn't want me to touch the outside world.

Around midnight, I'm lying on the small cot Murphy left in the office when I hear footsteps in the hallway. Slow, careful footsteps that stop right outside my door.

I grab my gun from under the pillow and creep to the door. The footsteps move away, down the stairs, and out into the street.

But when I look out my window, no one is there.

That's when I notice something that makes my skin crawl. Every house on Main Street has a light on in one window. Just one window per house, and they're all on the second floor. The lights glow with a strange blue color that doesn't look normal.

As I watch, the lights start blinking. Not randomly, but in a pattern. Like morse code.

Three short blinks, three long blinks, three short blinks.

S.O.S.

Someone is sending a distress call. Someone needs help.

I grab my jacket and gun and head for the stairs. I have to find out who's sending that signal and why.

But when I reach the bottom of the stairs, I freeze. The diner is full of people.

At least thirty people sit at tables and booths, all facing the stairs. All looking at me. They're totally silent, not eating, not drinking, just sitting and staring with empty eyes.

In the back area, Eleanor Blackwood sits alone at a table. She smiles and raises a cup of tea like she's toasting me.

"Welcome to Tidewaters, Detective Rivera," she says. "We've been waiting for you to come downstairs."

"How did you all get in here? The door was locked."

"Locks don't mean much in this town," Eleanor says. "Not when you have the right keys."

The people around me start to move. They stand up slowly, still looking at me with those empty eyes. I understand they're blocking every exit.

"What do you want?"

Eleanor sets down her teacup. "We want to make you an offer you can't refuse."

"I'm listening."

"Stop asking questions. Stop exploring. Stop trying to contact the outside world." Eleanor's smile gets bigger and scarier. "In return, we'll let you keep breathing."

"And if I refuse?"

Eleanor snaps her fingers. Every person in the diner turns their head toward me at exactly the same time. Their moves are too smooth, too perfect. Like they're being controlled by unseen strings.

"Then you'll join our community in a much more permanent way."

I raise my gun, but Eleanor just laughs.

"Bullets won't help you here, Detective. These people are already dead."

As if to prove her point, the man closest to me opens his mouth. Instead of teeth and a tongue, there's nothing inside but blackness and a soft blue glow.

Just like the lights in the windows. Just like the signal for help.

"The SOS wasn't from someone who needs help," I whisper in horror.

"No," Eleanor says, standing up. "It was from someone who's about to become one of us."

The dead people start walking toward me, and I realize the trap has already closed around me.