The Silent City

Chapter 12

The Midnight hunter

The night was still, with only the occasional rustling of leaves in the cool breeze to break the silence. The city was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting long shadows that danced across the empty streets. Somewhere in the heart of the city, the hum of life had quieted, leaving behind a sense of eerie calm.

At Westminster University, the day’s hustle had long since faded. The campus, usually filled with students rushing to and from classes, was now deserted, save for the occasional late-night straggler making their way home. The buildings loomed large and dark against the night sky, their windows reflecting the pale light of the moon.

A young woman walked briskly across the deserted campus, her steps echoing in the stillness. She was a student at Westminster, one of the many who often stayed late to finish assignments or study for exams. Tonight, she had been working late in the library, losing track of time as she buried herself in her books. Now, as she hurried towards the parking lot, she cursed herself for staying out so late.

Her name was Emily, a bright and diligent student, known for her friendly nature and quick smile. But tonight, her usual cheer was absent, replaced by a growing sense of unease. She glanced around nervously as she walked, her pace quickening with every step.

Unbeknownst to Emily, she was not alone. Hidden in the shadows, the killer watched her, their eyes following her every move. They had been waiting, patiently biding their time until the campus was empty, and their target was isolated.

Emily’s breath quickened as she neared the parking lot, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the weight of the darkness pressing in around her, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She was almost at her car when she heard it—a faint rustle behind her, the sound of footsteps on the gravel.

She spun around, eyes wide with fear, but there was nothing there—just the empty lot, bathed in the cold light of the streetlamp. Emily let out a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. She was being paranoid, she told herself, just letting her imagination run wild.

But the sense of dread wouldn’t leave her. She fumbled with her keys, her hands trembling as she tried to unlock her car door. That’s when she felt it—a presence behind her, the faintest whisper of movement.

Before she could react, a hand clamped down over her mouth, stifling her scream. Another arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back into the shadows. Emily struggled, panic surging through her, but it was no use. The killer’s grip was strong, unyielding, and before long, her struggles began to weaken.

The last thing she saw before darkness consumed her was the cold, emotionless eyes of her captor, watching her with a detached curiosity. Then everything went black.

The killer worked quickly, their movements precise and methodical. They had done this before, and it showed in the efficiency with which they carried out the grim task. There was no hesitation, no sign of remorse—just a cold, calculated determination.

When the deed was done, the killer stepped back, surveying their work with a critical eye. Satisfied, they reached into their pocket and pulled out a small envelope. Inside was a letter, carefully typed and folded. The killer placed the letter on the body, tucking it neatly under Emily’s hand.

The letter was their signature—a mocking taunt to the police, the higher-ups, and the entire system. It was their way of saying, “You can’t catch me.” And so far, they had been right.

The killer took one last look at the scene before melting back into the shadows, disappearing into the night. The campus was silent once more, save for the distant hum of traffic from the city beyond.

Morning came, and with it, the gruesome discovery. Emily’s body was found by a security guard making his rounds, the sight sending him into a state of shock. The police were called immediately, and within the hour, the area was swarming with officers and detectives, all trying to make sense of the horror before them.

Detective Smith arrived on the scene, grim-faced as he surveyed the scene. It was all too familiar—the meticulous nature of the crime, the lack of any evidence left behind, and, of course, the letter.

He unfolded the letter with gloved hands, his eyes scanning the mocking words typed neatly on the page. It was the same as before—a taunt to the police, daring them to catch the killer. But this time, there was something different, something more personal.

Smith’s jaw tightened as he read the last line, the words echoing in his mind: “Catch me if you can, Detective.”

This was no ordinary killer. This was someone who enjoyed the game, who relished in the chase. And Smith knew that as long as this killer was out there, the city would never be safe.

Back at home, Isabelle sat in her living room with her family, the television on but the usual chatter absent. The news of the murder had spread quickly, and it was all anyone could talk about. The footage of the crime scene flashed on the screen, the reporter’s voice grave as she detailed the latest developments.

Isabelle felt a chill run down her spine as she watched, the gruesome details sinking in. She couldn’t shake the feeling of unease, the same one she had felt the night before. The fact that the body was found so close to the club they had visited only heightened her fear.

Her father sat in his usual chair, his face set in a stern expression as he listened to the news. Her mother, usually so cheerful, was silent, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Even Jacob, who was rarely rattled by anything, looked troubled.

“It’s the same person,” her father said quietly, breaking the silence. “The same killer.”

Isabelle nodded, her heart heavy with dread. She could see the worry in her family’s eyes, a worry that mirrored her own. The city was no longer safe, and the killer was still out there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike again.