Chapter 1: The Echo of Shadows
Dr. Evelyn Price was used to the darkness. In fact, she embraced it. The human mind could be an intricate maze of light and shadows, but as a forensic psychologist, Evelyn had spent years studying the darkest corners of the human psyche. She had learned to navigate the twisted paths of killers’ minds, to decipher the strange language of the insane. But this case, the one that had started so simply, was different. It felt personal.
The moment the first body was found, Evelyn knew it wasn’t going to be like the others. It wasn’t just a crime scene—it was a message. One she couldn’t ignore.
The victim was a young woman, no older than twenty-five, left in an abandoned apartment on the outskirts of the city. Her body was posed in a grotesque tableau, the limbs arranged with unsettling precision. But it wasn’t the pose that caught Evelyn’s attention—it was the way the crime scene mirrored something from her own life. A memory. A fleeting thought that surfaced in her mind before she could shake it away.
The killer had left behind an item—an old photograph of a child, no name, just an image of a girl standing in front of a run-down house, her face partially obscured by shadows. The house in the photograph was eerily familiar to Evelyn, though she couldn’t quite place why. It triggered a memory, one she had long buried deep within her mind. A childhood she had worked hard to forget.
The authorities had been quick to call it a random act of violence. Another senseless murder in a city that had seen too many. But Evelyn knew better. She had seen enough cases to recognize the signs. The choice of victim, the specific way the body was arranged, and most chilling of all—the photograph. This wasn’t a random killer. This was someone who knew her. Someone who had been watching her.
Evelyn sat in her office late that evening, the dim light from her desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. Her fingers hovered over the file in front of her. She had already read the details of the case several times, but she knew she had missed something. The killer was toying with her, sending a message through these cryptic clues. She had to decode them before more lives were lost.
The phone rang, pulling her from her thoughts. Evelyn glanced at the caller ID and sighed. It was Detective Marcus Hayes.
“Dr. Price,” Marcus’s voice came through, rough and urgent. “We need you at the scene. Another body, same signature. It’s exactly like the first one.”
Her heart skipped a beat.
“I’m on my way,” Evelyn replied, standing up and grabbing her coat. She tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut, the feeling that this was only the beginning.
When she arrived at the crime scene, the cold air hit her face like a slap. The building was located in a less-frequented part of the city, an area that had long been abandoned. Evelyn couldn’t help but notice the similarity to the first victim’s location. There was something deliberate about the killer’s choices—the locations, the arrangement of the bodies, the symbolism behind it all.
Detective Hayes was waiting for her by the yellow tape that marked the perimeter of the crime scene. His face was grim, his eyes dark with exhaustion. He handed her a set of gloves and a mask without speaking.
Inside, the apartment was eerily quiet. The faint smell of decay mixed with the staleness of neglect. The second victim lay in the center of the room, her body positioned in the same way as the first—limbs splayed, eyes staring blankly into nothing. On the floor beside her was the same clue: another photograph. This time, it was a different child, but the house in the background was the same. The same faded image of the dilapidated home, the same shadowed figure standing in front of it.
Evelyn’s stomach churned. The photograph was a key. But to what? And why was the killer leaving them specifically for her?
“Do you recognize it?” Marcus asked, noticing her lingering gaze on the photo.
Evelyn didn’t respond immediately. She couldn’t. The image stirred something deep within her—something buried far too deep to resurface. She had to keep her focus. This was no longer just a case. It was a personal challenge, a twisted game that was playing out right before her eyes.
“I need to go back to my office,” Evelyn said, her voice steady despite the growing panic inside her. “There’s something I need to check.”
Back in her office, Evelyn opened the old wooden box she kept locked in her desk drawer. It was filled with mementos from her past—photographs, letters, a few old toys. She hadn’t looked through it in years. She had no desire to. But tonight, she felt compelled to open it.
Her fingers trembled as she pulled out a photograph from the bottom of the box, one she had not seen in over two decades. It was a picture of a little girl, standing in front of a house. The same house from the crime scenes. The same shadowed figure in the background.
Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat. This was no coincidence. The killer was using her past as a map, leaving pieces of her history behind in each crime scene. She could feel the walls closing in on her as she struggled to connect the dots.
Who was doing this? Why her?
As the realization settled in, a thought occurred to Evelyn. Maybe the killer wasn’t just targeting random victims. Maybe they were targeting her specifically, drawing her into a game she didn’t fully understand.
But it was too late to pull away. The game had already begun.
And Evelyn was its next victim.
