Chapter 27

Just a little over four hours later, we were pulling up in front of the Hanover's house once again, and again a sense of unease settled over me like a cold shroud. The house looked the same as it had, but something felt off, a subtle change in the energy of the place that sent my instincts into high alert.

Moments later, I was gazing at a young woman who lay on the floor of the kitchen, her eyes wide open and unseeing. Her body showed no signs of struggle or injury, yet she was just as lifeless as the others I had seen before her. I couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled over me like a shroud. The previous ones had all followed a pattern - a kill, a vision, and then the inevitable wait for the next one. But this time, things were different, but I knew it was him. There was no doubt about it. The message on the wall of the entryway had made it unmistakeable. "You can't escape fate, Analise." I had shivered despite the warmth of the summer night.

Beside me, Brice, who had been reading the message as well, had muttered, "Isn’t that what you said he had called you? What kind of sick joke is this?"

I had shaken my head, continuing to stare at the message, and I’d stepped closer as something had caught my eye; a small Phoenix etched into the corner of the lettering. Barely visible, but something that definitely hadn’t been on the other messages.

“That’s new,” Brice had muttered.

I’d nodded silently, at the same time reaching down to touch the birthmark on my hip; a twin to the representation of immortality that the Specter had etched onto the wall. My mind had raced as I’d tried to piece together the meaning behind the message and the symbol. Was this some sort of amping up of the sicko’s game? A new challenge? Or was there something else going on here?

Seconds later though, I had been distracted from my thoughts as Sheriff Grace had stepped into the entry room.

Now, I stood in the kitchen, my eyes once again drawn to the lifeless body of Sarah Ann Jones, as Grace explained the details of the case to us.

"According to our investigation, Sarah and her friends had been exploring for hours. To our understanding, they were searching for evidence of paranormal activity," he stated, rubbing his chin. "They claimed they captured several strange images and audio recordings. But we haven't been able to verify them."

~BRICE~

I stared intently at the two men—Grace and Mueller—each with years of experience under their belts. Yet, right now, they looked like two scared kids.

"So, let me get this straight," I muttered, uncertain I was hearing right. "You say they claimed to have captured several images and audio recordings, but you can't verify if they're real?"

Mueller, a tall, lanky man, nodded. "That's right, Agent. We've been going over the footage and audio files for hours, but we can't make heads-nor-tails out of it. It's like... Hell, I don't even know! We ain't never seen anything like any of it before."

Raising my hand, I rubbed my temples, trying to process what I was being told.

"Okay, what do you have?" I finally asked, trying to keep my temper.

Grace and Mueller exchanged a glance before Grace spoke up again. "We don't know for sure, but...well..." He pulled out a small recorder from his pocket and stated, "Listen to this," before pressing play.

As the faint whisper echoed out from the recorder, it was barely audible at first, but it grew louder as the recording continued. "Analise, it’s time to play," the voice stated, sounding almost demonic. A rash of chills went up my spine.

While I listened, the voice grew louder, more urgent. "Analise, you think you can be free of me? Think again, you will never be free."

"Jesus Christ," I breathed, a cold sweat trickling down my back. "What in the name of all that's Holy is that?"

Grace shook his head, shrugging. "We don't know, but it's embedded in the audio file.”

The words the voice had uttered had sent chills all over me, and as I listened to the recording for what felt like the hundredth time, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end each and every time. It was unlike anything I had ever heard before—low and raspy, with a menacing tone that seemed to seep into every corner of my soul.

Was this some kind of prank from the killer? Or was there really a supernatural force at work here? I needed answers, no matter how unsettling the truth might be.

"So, what makes you think this has anything to do with our case?" I asked Grace. Neither Grace nor his deputy knew about Rylee's experience with the Specter on our previous visit here, so they couldn't know how significant the entryway message and the words of the recording were. 

There had to be more they hadn't revealed yet to lead them to their conclusion.

With only the slightest hesitation, Grace murmured, "Follow me." Afterward, he led me and my team up the stairs to stand before the door of the bedroom where I had found Rylee, hands over her ears and writhing on the floor, the last time we were here. At just the thought a sickness hit my stomach.