STRANGE LOVE | RAFE CAMERON |

CHAPTER 17: | MURDERER |

The night wrapped the Cameron estate in a thick shroud of darkness, punctuated only by the distant sound of waves gently lapping against the shore. It was a peaceful scene, but inside the grand mansion, tension hung heavy in the air, ready to suffocate anyone who breathed too deeply. Ward Cameron moved silently through the house, his presence a shadow that seemed to blend seamlessly with the gloom.

His eyes, sharp and focused, glinted with something unspoken as they fell upon his son. Rafe laid awake beside Allison, her breathing soft and steady in the quiet of the room. She was peaceful in her slumber, her back turned toward him, unaware of the storm brewing just beyond the door.

"Rafe," Ward's voice was a mere whisper, almost as if he feared waking the sleeping girl. Yet, it sliced through the stillness like a razor, pulling Rafe from his thoughts.

Rafe's heart jolted at the sound, his pulse quickening.

"What? What is it?" Rafe asked, his voice low and rough with exhaustion.

Ward's eyes glinted in the darkness. "I need your help."

Rafe glanced at Allison, ensuring she hadn't stirred, before slowly disentangling himself from the bed. He moved with the practiced stealth of someone who'd snuck out far too many times before, his bare feet making no sound on the cold floor as he followed his father into the night.

The air outside was cool, bracing against his skin, and it helped to clear some of the fog in his mind. But when Ward led him to the back of the car, Rafe felt the tension coil in his stomach, tightening with every step.

"I need you to just stay calm and stay quiet, okay?" Ward whispered, his voice barely audible.

Rafe nodded nervously. "Yeah, okay."

He watched, breath bated, as Ward pulled back a plastic tarp, revealing a sight that made Rafe's blood run cold.

A body, lifeless and still.

Rafe's breath hitched, his stomach twisting with nausea and fear. He took an instinctive step back, his eyes wide with horror. "What... What is that?" His voice shook, the question barely escaping his lips.

"It's a body, son," Ward's reply was chillingly calm, as though he were discussing something mundane. The contrast between his tone and the gravity of the situation only amplified the dread that clawed at Rafe's insides.

The night seemed to close in around them, the shadows deepening as Rafe's world tilted on it's axis. He raised his hands to his head, trying to process what he was seeing, what it meant. "Oh my God," he whispered, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "Oh my God. It's a body?"

Ward reached out, a calming hand on Rafe's shoulder, but it did nothing to still the storm inside him. "Stay calm," Ward urged, his voice low, almost coaxing. "Just stay quiet, okay?"

But Rafe couldn't stay calm. His mind was racing, his thoughts a chaotic blur. "I gotta know. Did you do this? Whose... whose body is it?" His voice was trembling now, the fear creeping in, cold and relentless.

Ward's grip on his son's shoulder tightened, his voice a sharp command. "It doesn't matter."

Rafe shook his head, stepping away from his father's touch. "What are you talking about? Whose body is it, Dad?" he demanded, panic edging his tone, "You need to tell me whose body that is!"

Ward's patience snapped, and he moved quickly, pressing a hand over Rafe's mouth, silencing him. "Stop it!" Ward hissed. "Stop talking!"

Rafe nodded frantically, his eyes wide with fear as Ward slowly pulled his hand away. He was trying to keep it together, but every fiber of his being was screaming at him to run, to get away from this nightmare.