The town of Ravenwood had a way of hiding its secrets behind misty mornings and quiet streets. At first glance, it looked like any small town: a cluster of brick buildings, narrow alleys, and the occasional neon sign flickering from the diner on Main Street. But beneath its calm exterior, something restless stirred.
Detective Alex Monroe leaned back in his worn leather chair at the Ravenwood Police Department, rubbing his temples. The case files were piling up—mostly petty thefts and domestic disputes—but something gnawed at him that morning, an unease he couldn't place.
Then the letter arrived.
It wasn't slipped under the door or handed by a messenger. It simply appeared on his desk, pristine and unmarked, as though it had grown there overnight. Alex picked it up cautiously. The envelope was thick, cream-colored, and heavy with the faint scent of lavender. There was no return address.
He tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of paper, typed neatly:
"By the time the clock strikes midnight, someone you know will vanish. Watch closely, Detective."
Alex stared at the words, a chill creeping down his spine. He had faced criminals, thieves, and con artists, but this—this was something different. Personal. Menacing.
Across town, Lila Carter, Alex's childhood friend and now an investigative journalist, was sipping coffee in her small office cluttered with papers and notebooks. Her phone buzzed.
"Alex. You need to see this."
Lila's message was short, cryptic. Something in it sent a shiver down Alex's spine. Their conversations were usually mundane, full of banter or news tips—but this…
He arrived at the scene of the first crime, an abandoned warehouse at the edge of town. The area smelled of damp wood and rust. Police tape fluttered lazily in the wind. A body had been found—a man, middle-aged, lying in an unnatural twist. His eyes were wide, staring at something beyond comprehension.
Alex crouched, inspecting the scene. There were no signs of a struggle, no fingerprints except the victim's. Yet something about the positioning of the body felt deliberate, like a message.
A faint noise made him spin. Detective Sam Hargrove approached, skeptical as always.
"Another one?" Sam asked. "And let me guess… you think it's connected to some mysterious letter?"
Alex didn't answer immediately. He held up the folded note from earlier, glancing toward the body. "I don't know yet. But someone's sending warnings… predicting crimes. And this one… this one was no accident."
Meanwhile, someone watched from the shadows—Serena Quinn, a woman whose presence in town was known to very few. She scribbled in her black notebook, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Yes… everything is going according to plan," she whispered.
Ravenwood, it seemed, had just woken up to a game it didn't understand—and Alex Monroe was already in the middle of it.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Alex couldn't shake the feeling that the next letter, the next crime, was already on its way.