The Whistler In The Night

Chapter 32

I was sitting in the cramped hotel bed, feeling more hollow and defeated than I'd ever felt in my life. The hotel room's silence felt heavy, like a weight pressing down on me. The events of the past few days played on a loop in my mind—Maeve's death, Scarlet's anger, losing my place with the only people I had left. I thought I'd fallen as far as I could go.

Then my phone rang.

I glanced at it, my heart jumping, half-hoping it was Scarlet. But the screen just showed an anonymous number. I let it ring once, twice, three times, unsure if I even wanted to answer. When it kept ringing, though, I gave in, pressing the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I said, wary.

A slow, chilling laugh filled the other end. My blood ran cold. I'd know that sound anywhere. "Hi, Evan," he drawled, his voice dripping with that mocking, sinister tone that had haunted me for years.

My heart raced, anger and fear mixing into something I could barely contain. "What do you want from me?" I shouted. "You've taken everything! Fuck you—I lost all my life because of you!"

There was silence on his end, as if he were savoring my pain. And then, his voice turned cold. "I don't care about your life," he said smoothly, "but I have something that you might care about. Scarlet is with me."

My heart dropped. I clutched the phone tighter, my hands shaking. "No... you're lying," I managed, though I knew it was useless. He didn't lie about things like this.

He laughed again, soft and taunting. "I'll send you the location. You have 24 hours to come rescue her, or I will kill her—just like I did with her mother." I yelled at him, fury spilling out, but he cut the call, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.

A notification popped up on my screen, and my stomach twisted as I looked. He'd sent a location—an old, remote barn outside of town. Beneath the coordinates, a text message read: Don't even think about bringing the police. If you do, she dies. Come alone.

And then, he sent a picture.

The image made my stomach turn. Scarlet lay on the filthy barn floor, her hands and feet tied, her clothes smeared with dirt, her eyes closed. I clenched the phone, bile rising in my throat. He'd sent a countdown too—23 hours, 50 minutes, ticking down like a bomb.

All the fear I felt twisted into a single determination: I would get her back. I would not let him destroy the last part of my life. I grabbed my jacket and bag, filled with anything that could possibly help, and stormed out of the hotel room.

This wasn't over. Not yet.

The phone fell from my hands, clattering onto the bed as I stared, frozen with horror. Scarlet was with him. L had her. My heart hammered, my thoughts racing, filling with every awful image of what he could do. I couldn't believe it, couldn't accept that she was actually in his clutches. But the picture was right there, undeniable: Scarlet lying helpless on the barn floor, her clothes smeared with mud, her eyes shut, bound, and vulnerable.

I paced around the room, anger and fear swirling, churning in my gut like fire. He wanted me to come alone, and he wanted me afraid. And it was working; I was terrified. Every second felt like a knife twisting deeper, each minute she spent with him another piece of time he could use against her. I couldn't let him win. I couldn't lose her—not again, not after everything he'd taken from us.

I picked up the phone, staring at the countdown he'd sent, ticking down with an ominous rhythm. 23:50:00... 23:49:59. I had to be there, at the barn, in less than twenty-four hours. Every minute counted, and every minute felt like it was slipping through my fingers.

Throwing on my jacket, I grabbed a backpack and quickly packed anything I thought I might need: a flashlight, a pocket knife, a crowbar I'd found lying in the trunk of Scarlet's mom's car. I had no idea what I was walking into, but I knew I had to be prepared. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me scared. If he thought he could break me, he was wrong.

As I zipped up the bag, I tried to piece together a plan. He said to come alone, but I didn't know if I could do this on my own. I briefly considered going to the police, but his words echoed in my mind: Don't even think to come with the police, or she dies. My heart ached. The thought of calling them anyway, risking everything to save her—it was almost too much to bear. But I knew what L was capable of. He'd already proved he could make good on his threats. So I had no choice. This was on me.

I slipped out of the hotel room, practically jogging down the hall and out to the parking lot. My hands shook as I unlocked my car, gripping the steering wheel tightly as I sat there, trying to steady my breathing. I knew the route to the barn location he'd sent, a stretch of abandoned farmland I'd heard about but never actually seen. It was isolated—no people, no witnesses. L had chosen his battleground carefully.

As I drove, every landmark that passed felt surreal, like I was drifting through some nightmare I couldn't wake up from. Every thought seemed to loop back to Scarlet. Was she conscious? Was she in pain? I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my mind from spiraling. He wouldn't get to her first. I'd make sure of it.

The hours ticked by. The sun began to set, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch over the road like dark fingers. I reached the edge of the farmland just as night fell. The barn loomed in the distance, dark and sinister against the sky. A cold chill ran down my spine. This was it.

I parked a distance away, just in case he was watching for headlights. Slipping out of the car, I grabbed my backpack and started walking across the field, the weight of the crowbar pressing heavily against my back. I moved as quietly as I could, my breath clouding in the cold night air. The silence was almost suffocating.

As I approached the barn, I could see that the doors were slightly open. I crouched low, edging my way closer, trying to get a glimpse inside. The smell hit me first—musty hay, old wood, and something metallic, like blood. I swallowed hard, peering around the corner.

And there she was. Scarlet lay on the dirt floor, her hair matted, her body still. For a terrifying moment, I thought she wasn't breathing. But as I crept closer, I saw her chest rise and fall, shallow but steady. Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived.

"Evan," a voice echoed from the darkness, low and mocking. L stepped out from the shadows, his face twisted in that same sick smile. "Right on time."

I clenched my fists, feeling a surge of anger so intense it nearly consumed me. "Let her go, L. This is between you and me."

He laughed, his whistling echoing through the empty barn. It sent shivers down my spine, dredging up memories I'd tried to bury. "Oh, but she's a part of you, isn't she? Just like everyone else I've touched. You brought me into her life, Evan, and now she's mine, too."

Without thinking, I lunged forward, the crowbar raised, every muscle in my body straining with rage. But before I could reach him, he sidestepped, grabbing my arm and twisting it behind me. I grunted in pain as he forced me to my knees, my face inches from the dirt.

"Always so predictable," he hissed, his voice dripping with malice. "You think you're the hero, but you're just a pawn, Evan. You always have been." He leaned closer, his hot breath against my ear. "Did you really think you could save her?"

I clenched my jaw, refusing to let him see my fear. I pushed back against his hold, twisting free just enough to raise the crowbar and swing. It connected with his side, sending him stumbling back with a snarl. I scrambled to my feet, positioning myself between him and Scarlet.

"You're not taking her," I said, my voice barely a whisper, but filled with all the conviction I could muster.

L straightened, brushing himself off. He looked at me with something almost like pity. "Oh, Evan," he said, shaking his head. "You don't understand. I already have."

He raised his hand, and Scarlet's body convulsed, her eyes fluttering open but filled with terror. She struggled against her bonds, her muffled screams tearing through the barn.

"No!" I yelled, rushing toward her, but L blocked my path, his eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction.

"Go on, then," he sneered, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Try to save her. I dare you."

I lunged at him again,