Page 36 of Whispers in the Dark
“I thought the same,” Marcy replied. “So I stepped out to check. I didn’t see anyone, but... your office curtain, it’s slightly off-center. I don’t want to overreact, but something feels off. I didn’t want to ignore it.”
Alex set down his coffee, tension locking into his shoulders. Someone had been at her house and not just near it—possibly inside.
Charlotte’s voice was sharper now. “Go back inside. Lock your doors. Don’t go back out there.”
“You sure?” Marcy asked, hesitation creeping into her tone.
“Yes,” Charlotte said, rising to her feet. “I’m calling the police. I’ll be home in thirty minutes.”
The call ended. And Charlotte walked into the living room.
Silence settled over the room, thick and immediate. The low crackle of the fire barely cut through it. Noah, Olivia, and Ethan stopped talking. Isobel sat straighter. Molly looked up. Ruth stood slowly. Every one of them had picked up on the shift.
Charlotte’s jaw tightened. “I need to go home.”
Alex didn’t miss a beat. “I’m going with her. Olivia, stay here with Molly, Ruth, and Izzy. Wait for Sophie. I’ll ask Waverly County PD to dispatch a couple units.”
Ethan was already grabbing his coat. “I’ll ride with you.”
Noah nodded. “Let’s move.”
Charlotte exhaled sharply but didn’t argue. None of them would let her walk into this alone.
They threw on coats and boots with practiced efficiency. The warmth of Sophie’s house faded behind them as they stepped into the cold night.
Twelve
Wednesday
As they arrived,Waverly Junction PD patrol cars skidded to a stop almost simultaneously, their tires crunching against the frost-covered gravel. Red and blue lights pulsed against the night, throwing eerie shadows across Charlotte’s well-manicured property. The air was sharp with the scent of damp earth and blowing leaves, thickening the tension that had already coiled in Alex’s chest. The neighbor’s dog was whining and barking.
Without hesitation, Alex stepped forward, flashing his badge. “Alex Marcel, U.S. Attorney’s office,” he announced, his voice clipped and authoritative. Beside him, Ethan and Noah did the same, their movements crisp and professional. The patrol officers nodded, deferring to their lead.
Alex wasted no time. “Clear the house and property in pairs,” he ordered, his voice steady and sharp. His gaze swept over the assembled officers, tone leaving no room for debate. “Do not, under any circumstances, lose sight of your partner. Chief Everhart and I will take point through the main level.”
Charlotte gave a sharp nod, already stepping onto the creaking wooden porch. The air was sharp with cold, her breath clouding in front of her. The front door stood partially open—unlocked. No signs of forced entry, no broken glass. Just open. Waiting. She pushed it wide with the back of her knuckles.
Inside, the house was quiet. Too quiet. No barking, no whine of her border collie from upstairs or the hallway. Bailey wasn’t here. He was still safely curled up at Sophie’s, far from whatever had happened tonight.
They stepped into the foyer side by side, eyes scanning, weapons low but ready. Alex’s voice was quiet now, meant only for her. “Let’s move.”
Charlotte nodded once, her body already in motion. The rest of the officers broke off in pairs, one group moving to sweep the back perimeter, the other heading upstairs.
The hardwood floor was cold beneath their boots. Every creak, every shift of the air felt louder than it should’ve been. But they didn’t stop. They were trained for this. Conditioned for it.
Alex gave her a curt nod as his hand went instinctively to the holstered Glock at his hip. He pushed open the half-ajar door, letting the dim interior unfold before them. Shadows stretched across the contents of her cupboard littering the floor, and a smell hung in the air of something like rotting flesh.
Charlotte inhaled sharply. “They were in my house.”
“No time now for that now. Stay sharp,” Alex admonished her.
Behind them, Ethan and Noah had already peeled off, moving alongside two uniformed officers toward the back of the house. Their footsteps were cautious, weapons drawn as they disappeared into the darkness. Then came the voice.
“Alex! Charlotte! Back porch!”
Noah’s sharp, urgent tone sent ice racing down Alex’s spine. He exchanged a quick glance with Charlotte before they tookoff, boots pounding against the hardwood and carpeted floors as they made their way through the downstairs to the back door.
Charlotte’s muffled gasp sent an ache deep into Alex’s gut. Shards of delicate porcelain lay scattered across the floor, the shattered remains of years of careful collecting. The breakfront, once a proud display of intricate vases, dainty teacups, and hand-painted figurines, was now a ruin of splintered glass and jagged ceramic. A favorite teapot, the one Charlotte inherited from her grandmother, lay in pieces, its faded floral pattern barely recognizable among the wreckage.
