*Chris' POV*
I kept reading the words on the image, again and again.
'If you want to hear her, call her.'
The letters burned through the glass of my phone, as if staring at them hard enough could make them change, could make this turn into something else. The screen dimmed. My thumb tapped it back awake.
Over and over.
A stupid, repetitive rhythm, but it was the only thing keeping my hands from shaking.
The kitchen smelled faintly of burnt coffee. Anne had made a fresh pot hours ago, and now it had gone cold. The house was too quiet, like the silence itself was pressing against me. There wasn't a single clock tick I didn't hear. No creak that didn't sound like a threat.
He'd been inside Diane's house.
