Rebecca didn't take a coat this time.
The rain had eased into that thin, stubborn drizzle, the kind that didn't look serious until you'd been standing in it too long. Streetlights smeared across the wet pavement, everything slightly blurred, like the night itself wasn't fully awake.
Daniel's house sat at the end of the street.
Of course it did.
Detached. Quiet. No immediate neighbours close enough to notice much of anything. The kind of place you'd describe as "peaceful" during the day.
At night, it just looked… separate.
Rebecca slowed as she approached, her steps quieter without her even trying.
"Okay," she whispered to herself. "Just look. That's it. Just look."
She didn't believe that.
Not even a little.
The house was dark.
No lights in the windows. No movement behind the curtains. No car in the driveway.
Empty.
Or pretending to be.
Rebecca's eyes moved slowly across the front of the house, picking out details.
The curtains were drawn, but not fully. Just enough to leave thin gaps.
The front garden was neat. Too neat. Like no one had walked through it in days.
The porch light was off.
She stepped closer.
Gravel crunched under her shoe.
She froze.
Waited.
Nothing.
No sudden light switching on. No voice. No movement.
Just the faint sound of rain tapping against glass somewhere.
"Right," she breathed.
Rebecca moved toward the side of the house instead of the front door. She wasn't even sure why. Instinct, maybe. Or the quiet understanding that knocking would be… stupid.
The side path was narrower than she expected. Darker too. The fence on one side blocked most of the streetlight, leaving her in a dim stretch of shadow.
Halfway down, she stopped.
There was a window.
Low. Slightly open.
Her stomach tightened.
"That's not good," she whispered.
She stepped closer, slower now, her senses sharpening whether she liked it or not.
The window led into a room she couldn't fully see.....just the edge of a desk, the corner of a bookshelf.
A STUDY??.
Rebecca's chest felt suddenly tight.
Emily's voice, from memory:
"There were documents. Like… files. Not normal ones."
Rebecca swallowed.
"Don't be stupid," she muttered.
But her hand was already on the window frame.
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then she pushed.
The window opened with a soft, reluctant creak.
Rebecca winced and paused again, listening.
Still nothing.
No footsteps. No voice.
No Daniel.
She pulled herself up and inside.
The air felt different.
Still.
Closed in.
Like the room hadn't been properly lived in for a while, but hadn't been abandoned either.
Rebecca landed quietly, her shoes barely making a sound against the wooden floor.
She didn't move at first.
Just listened.
Her own breathing sounded too loud.
"In. Out," she whispered.
Then she looked up.
The study was… normal.
That was the worst part.
Desk. Chair. Shelves. Papers stacked neatly. A lamp switched off.
Nothing dramatic. Nothing obviously wrong.
"Emily thought this was weird?" Rebecca murmured.
She stepped forward.
The desk drew her in immediately.
Not messy...but not untouched either. A few papers slightly out of line. A pen left uncapped. A faint ring mark from a mug.
Recent.
Someone had been here.
Her eyes dropped to the drawers.
Locked.
Of course.
"Right," she muttered. "Figures."
She glanced around the room again, slower this time.
Bookshelves.
Folders.
A small cabinet against the wall.
Her attention landed there, not because it stood out, but because it didn't.
It blended in too well.
Rebecca walked toward it, each step deliberate now.
"Just look," she reminded herself again.
She reached for the cabinet handle.
Paused.
"…If this goes wrong, this is the moment," she whispered.
Then she opened it.
Inside were files....
, dozens of them.
Neatly arranged. Labeled. Names.
Rebecca leaned closer.
Her eyes scanned quickly at first, then slowed.
Because she recognised one.
Her breath caught.
"…No."
She pulled the file out slightly, just enough to read clearly.
EMILY CARTER
Rebecca's hand tightened.
"No, no, no…"
She yanked the file free.
Her fingers fumbled slightly as she opened it.
Inside were photos, printed.....grainy.
Taken from a distance.
Emily walking. Talking. Sitting at the café.
Dates stamped in the corners.
Recent dates.
Rebecca's stomach dropped.
"This isn't.....this isn't possible…"
Her hands moved faster now, flipping pages.
Notes.
Short. Precise.
Times. Locations. Patterns.
Like someone had been…
Tracking her.
Rebecca's pulse slammed in her ears.
"This is insane," she whispered.
But it wasn't.
It was structured. Organized.
Intentional.
Which made it worse.
A sound....came from upstairs.
Rebecca froze.
Every muscle locked instantly.
A faint creak.
Like a floorboard shifting under weight.
Her heart stopped.
Then....started again. Faster.
"…He's not supposed to be here," she breathed.
Another sound.
Closer this time.
A step.
Rebecca slowly closed the file, her hands suddenly very careful, very quiet.
Her eyes flicked to the window.
Too far.
Not fast enough.
Another step.
Above her.
Directly above her.
Rebecca's throat went dry.
"…Okay," she whispered, barely audible.
Think.
Think.
Think.
Her eyes darted around the room.
Desk...Door....Shadows.
Nowhere to hide. She got frightened.
The floorboard creaked again.
Right above the study.
Then, silence.
Not empty silence.
Waiting silence;
Rebecca stood completely still, barely breathing.
Because somehow, just somehow
It felt like whoever was upstairs…
Had stopped moving…
At the exact same moment she had.