The Whisperer

t looked smaller than he remembered, the paint peeling off the walls, the windows cracked

p to the door. The key is still fit, though the lock protested as he turne

embered, but older, more worn down. He walked through the small living room, his eyes scanni

weight. The room was bare, just an old dresser and a bed covered in a tattered sheet

e was about to give up when he noticed something strange about the

gave way with a jerk, and he reached inside, feeling aroun

old, the hinges barely holding together

string. He untied them, his eyes scanning the handwriting.

tching in his throat. It was a picture of his mother, smiling, her arm around a man he didn

is man before. Who was he? And why did h

y were filled with details about money, meetings, and names he di

me. If anything happens, take car

he had never known. All this time, he had thought her death was a random act of violence. But

the box, his mind spinning. He had to find out who t

vidence room. He needed to see the old case files, to

read them out on the table, scanning the reports, the witness statements, a

. He had given a statement, saying he saw a shadowy figure near the crime scene the

on was vague, but there was something familiar about it. The way the

man, Miguel, could be the key to everything. If he

eed you to run a name for me, Miguel Alvar

sounded worried. "You're already in d

Mark," Lucas said fi

en Mark sighed. "Alright,

ng that night, something that had scared him enough to

ucas had expected to find Miguel Alvarez. The building was a sad, c

his chest. There was a shuffling noise from inside, and then

he man asked, hi

d quietly. "I'm a detective. I nee

ut the door, but Lucas pushed his shoulder

der than Lucas had expected, his face lined with worry and

guel asked, his voice

other was killed," Lucas said, keeping hi

und the room. "I don't know anything.

ne who can help me. The Whisperer is back, and he's target

at down on the edge of the bed. "I saw her meeting with a man," he said quietly. "A fe

Lucas asked, h

angerous. I saw him the night she was killed, too. He was wa

n down his spine. "Wh

hair, scar on his cheek. I don

than he had ever known before. But before he c

ard, blood pouring from a bullet wound in his chest. Luc

ing as he pressed down on the wound. "Sta

his body going limp. Lucas felt a surge of rag

watching, waiting. An

s apartment. He fumbled with the keys, his han

ned,papers scattered everywhere. Someon

g around. Then he saw ita note pinned to the wall, a knife sticking

think, but so am I. Stay

d spinning. The Whisperer was always one step ahead, a

ds. How was he supposed to stop a ghost? How was

sing in, and Lucas wa