Stranger At My Door

18. Caught In The Storm

The rain whispered secrets in the night as footsteps approached, the sound slicing through the downpour with a haunting echo. Both Ridge and I spun towards the dimly lit entrance of the alley, our nerves taut. DCI Campbell emerged from the shadows, her silhouette framed by the gleam of the streetlamps, flanked by two uniformed officers. The rain had plastered her hair against her head, sculpting her features into a visage of relentless determination.

"Talk," she commanded crisply, her gaze piercing as it flicked from Ridge to me, each look sharp and probing.

"We've lost her," I stammered, my voice a mixture of panic and despair. "Amber... she's disappeared. We followed her to this alley, but now there's no sign of her anywhere. I've tried her mobile, but it just rings out."

DCI Campbell's eyes narrowed on Ridge, suspicion briefly clouding her features before she focused back on me with an intensity that felt almost physical.

Stepping closer, her presence formidable, she locked eyes with me. "There's more you haven't told me," she declared, her voice steady yet edged with a compelling urgency. "If you're holding something back, now's not the time to keep quiet."

Gulping down my fear, I confessed, "There's someone... a man lurking in the shadows. Always hooded, his face obscured. I saw him at the vigil, a silent observer. And he's been following me—I'm sure of it. I caught a glimpse of him outside my house several nights ago, and last night, after the pub, he chased both me and Amber."

Her expression tightened, a storm brewing in her steely eyes.

"Are you serious, Sam?" she snapped, her voice a low growl of controlled anger. "You've been stalked, and you chose now to tell me?"

"I wasn't certain," I admitted, my voice a whisper of doubt. "I didn't want to cause a fuss over nothing—"

"Nothing?" she interjected fiercely. "With Brad dead and Amber missing, you think this is nothing?"

Regret washed over me as I nodded, accepting her harsh but fair judgment.

Campbell shook her head in frustration. "Have you tried her number again? What about her father? Do you two have any tracking apps?"

"I was just about to check again when you arrived," I said, handing her my shaking phone.

Snatching it, she immediately accessed the tracking app, her fingers a blur. Beside me, Ridge looked on, his body rigid with tension, his eyes darting hopelessly around the empty alley.

"Hurry up," Campbell muttered to herself, her impatience palpable as the app loaded.

Time stretched torturously as the screen displayed the loading icon, each second laden with dread. My heart hammered against my ribs, resonating with the relentless drum of raindrops on the pavement.

When the location popped up, Campbell's demeanour shifted to one of sharp focus.

"She's at the Pilkington Industrial Estate," she declared, her tone slicing through the chill. "Her phone is there. We need to move. Now."

A cold fear gripped me; the industrial estate was no place for the faint-hearted, especially not in the dead of night.

"She wouldn't just go there," I murmured, half to myself.

Without a word, Ridge tightened his grip on my arm, a silent vow of support. Amber's phone being at such a desolate place was ominous, hinting at darker plays at work.

Campbell was already issuing commands. "Get backup to the industrial estate. Call Amber's father—Sam, you have his number?"

My fingers fumbled as I dialled, the cold rain numbing my touch.