The Missing Link

023. Echoes of the Past

"Are you just making fun of me... again?" Zane asked, his tone uncertain.

"No," Raine shot back. "I’m telling you, I saw something out there."

"Look, Raine, we’ve got to be rational about this, all right?" he said, trying to stay composed. "You’re the one who was against all of this in the first place."

Raine’s gaze steadied as she recited, "Confront what you cannot see; for in the shadows of the unknown, reason must prevail." Her eyes followed Zane as he stood to pour himself some water from the pitcher Mrs. Suarez had left on the table near the door. "It is not the darkness we should fear, but the abandonment of our search for understanding."

"Here, have some water first. You must be having a breakdown," Zane said, handing her the glass. Raine accepted it with trembling fingers, taking a tentative sip. "Enough joking around. Are you really all right? You look pale... try to relax."

He took the glass back to the table and returned to his chair, watching her closely. "You’ve been so stressed lately. Maybe you’re pushing yourself too hard with all the multitasking," he continued. "You’ve got loads of work, tons of responsibilities, and—"

"If I stop, then what?" Raine interrupted, her voice low but heavy with meaning.

"Maybe your mind’s so full of chaos you imagined something," Zane suggested gently. "It was dark and eerie out there—anyone might’ve seen things."

"I am perfectly fine," Raine said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She turned away, her breathing quickening as panic clawed at her chest. Pressing her fingertips to her temples, she let out a low groan of anguish.

"Raine, don’t worry," Zane said softly. "Everything’s going to be alright." He watched as her trembling fingers pressed harder against her skin. "Whatever you saw out there, it’s gone now. We’re inside, safe. Let’s not let our imaginations run wild—"

"I said I am perfectly fine!" Raine’s voice rose, sharp and furious. Her hands dropped, her eyes blazing. "I’m perfectly alright!"

Zane exhaled deeply and flicked on the lights, the room instantly brightening. "I see," he replied simply.

"Fine. If you want rationality, I’ll give you some," Raine said, drawing in a steadying breath, her effort to regain control evident. "We’re in a province where superstition runs rampant. A remote place, sparsely populated—a perfect spot for people to do whatever they like without being noticed. Brilliant, isn’t it?" Her voice carried a sharp edge.

Raine glanced over her shoulder, her gaze settling on the framed photograph pinned to the wall—a forty-by-fifty-five image of a man, a woman, and their son. They sat together on a living room sofa, Vincent positioned between them, all smiling for the camera.

"Look at them," she said, gesturing towards the picture. "They’re just one of the few families living here. A provincial man and a woman from the city. They moved here, thinking raising their child in a place like this would be ideal." Her tone carried a hint of irony, her eyes lingering on the family’s cheerful expressions.

"How can you be so sure?" Zane asked, his skepticism evident.

"That photograph looks recent," Raine replied. "The furnishings here are new, as is the house itself. They likely moved in just a few years ago—around the time Amara inherited the house where she died." She gestured toward the picture. "This family is a blend of backgrounds. The man, Mr. Aaron, grew up here, steeped in local superstitions. He probably met his wife while working in the city, where he’d gone seeking better pay. They fell in love, had their child, and eventually returned here. Maybe they wanted a quieter life, away from the city’s chaos, so they built this house."