call from the other side

3. secrets

The fog rolled in thicker than ever that night, veiling the small coastal town of Blackwood Bay. Hidden beneath the eerie quiet, secrets stirred, ready to resurface. Alison Grey, a young reporter for the Blackwood Gazette, sat alone in her dimly lit office, reviewing the evidence she’d gathered on Trevor Hensley, the man who’d recently escaped from the town's maximum-security prison. Trevor, convicted of a brutal murder two years ago, had managed to vanish into the darkness a week ago, and the police had no leads.

What Alison hadn’t counted on was that she would be drawn into his deadly game.

The phone rang, snapping her out of her thoughts. It was Rick Caldwell, her closest friend and one of the few people in town who had survived Trevor's last deadly spree. Rick had seen Trevor's dark side up close and still bore the scars, both physical and emotional. He sounded anxious.

"Alison, I need to talk to you. Can you come over? There’s something I never told anyone... something about Trevor," he said, his voice low and hurried.

"Rick, you need to tell the police—"

"No. This is bigger than that," he interrupted, his voice shaking. "Meet me at Libby’s house. She should hear this too."

Libby Harrington was a friend of Rick's, known for her compassionate nature and her role as a volunteer at the local church. Alison didn’t know her well but had met her a few times at town gatherings. Always warm, always caring, Libby was the type of person who lit up a room. Yet lately, whispers had swirled around her, suggesting there was more to her past than anyone knew.

Alison grabbed her coat and headed out into the night. The town was quiet as she made her way to Libby's house, a small, well-kept cottage at the edge of the woods. As she neared, she spotted Rick pacing on the front porch, visibly shaken.

“Rick,” she called, hurrying over. “Are you all right?”

He looked up, his face pale. “We need to talk inside.”

They went in, and Alison immediately sensed something was wrong. The house was dark, and a strange, metallic smell hung in the air. They walked through the small living room, where a glass of wine sat half-finished on the table, and found Libby in the kitchen. She lay sprawled on the floor, unmoving, her eyes open but lifeless. A pool of blood spread beneath her.

Alison's breath caught as the shock settled in. She looked at Rick, who was frozen in horror.

“No… no, this can’t be happening,” he stammered, backing away.

Alison reached for her phone to call the police, but she stopped when she noticed a slip of paper near Libby’s hand. It had been crumpled, as though she’d clutched it before she died. She picked it up, and a chill ran through her as she read the words scrawled in messy handwriting: “You know too much. T.”

Rick’s face went white. “It’s Trevor. He’s back, Alison. And he’s after everyone who knows his secrets.”

Alison nodded, swallowing her fear. Trevor Hensley had left a twisted trail of bloodshed before, and now he seemed to be picking up where he left off. But what kind of secret was worth killing for?

Before Alison could respond, a faint knock sounded at the front door. She and Rick exchanged a terrified glance, both fearing the same thing: that Trevor himself might be waiting just outside. Alison’s heart pounded as she crept toward the door, peering through the peephole. To her relief, it wasn’t Trevor.

It was Deputy Walker, one of the town’s few police officers.

After taking in the scene and confirming Libby was dead, Deputy Walker led them outside, his face grim. He asked a few quick questions before finally telling them something that left them both speechless.

“It seems Trevor had been sending letters to certain people in town for weeks before he escaped. He’d been communicating with Libby too,” he said, his tone careful. “But no one in town knows why he was reaching out… or what those letters said.”

Alison glanced at Rick, who looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

“What is it, Rick?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Rick hesitated, the words catching in his throat. Finally, he spoke, his voice thick with regret. “I should have told you both sooner. Trevor wasn’t just a random killer. He… he had a history with us—Libby, me, and a few others. We were all involved in something that went horribly wrong years ago. We made a pact to keep it secret, but Trevor… he didn’t want to stop. And when things spiraled, he made sure we’d never speak of it again.”

Alison took a step back, realizing she had only scratched the surface of Trevor’s darkness. “And now he’s come back to finish what he started?”

Rick nodded, his eyes haunted. “Libby wanted out. She couldn’t live with the guilt anymore… but Trevor couldn’t risk her talking. I think he’s trying to scare us into silence, or worse.”

Alison's mind raced as she processed this revelation. Trevor was targeting anyone connected to his past. But why come back now? And more importantly, who else was on his list?

As they left the crime scene, Alison made a silent vow. She would uncover Trevor’s secrets, no matter the cost. For Libby, for Rick, and for everyone else caught in Trevor's twisted web.

But somewhere in the shadows, Trevor was watching—waiting for his chance to strike again.