Daniel didn't sleep that night.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the phone in his hands. The screen glowed faintly in the darkness, illuminating his tense expression. Every time it buzzed, his heart jumped. Every time it didn't, he felt the weight of silence pressing down on him.
The messages from Emily—or whoever was pretending to be her—still haunted him.
Stop looking.
You're not safe.
He had read them a hundred times, each read tightening the grip of fear around his chest. He didn't know whether to panic or to think logically. Rationally, he knew something was wrong. Irrationally, the messages felt like a warning from Emily herself.
He couldn't ignore it. He wouldn't.
By dawn, Daniel had made a decision. He couldn't just wait for the police to find answers. He had to look. He had to know.
He dressed quickly, tossing his jacket over his shoulders. He grabbed his keys and phone, and left his house without saying a word to anyone. The world outside felt strange, muted, as though it had slowed down just for him.
He drove aimlessly at first, trying to organize his thoughts. Every street, every shadow seemed familiar—and yet threatening. By the time he pulled into a small parking lot near Millbrook Road—the place the police said Emily's phone was found—the sun was just rising. The soft golden light made the road seem almost peaceful. Too peaceful.
Daniel stepped out of the car, scanning the area. The road was empty, silent, except for the distant hum of traffic on the main street. The phone had been found here. But where was she?
He walked slowly along the edge of the road, the gravel crunching under his shoes. He imagined Emily there, standing in the shadows, watching him. He shook his thought away. He couldn't think like that. Not yet.
Then he saw it.
A scrap of fabric caught on a roadside fence. He froze. The color was dark, almost black, but there was a small splash of blue. He stepped closer. It was part of a jacket. Not exactly hers, but close enough to make his stomach twist.
Daniel crouched down and examined it. No other signs. No footprints, no signs of struggle, nothing that could give him a clue about what had happened. Just the jacket, swaying slightly in the morning breeze.
He stood up and looked down the road. That's when he saw it—a figure in the distance. A shadow. Too still to be a person walking. His pulse spiked. He blinked, and it was gone.
He stepped forward, heart hammering, calling softly, "Emily?"
No answer.
The air suddenly felt heavier. The sun was rising, but the shadows seemed darker somehow. Daniel felt like someone was watching him. He scanned the road, the fields on either side, the trees casting long lines across the asphalt. Nothing.
He pulled out his phone. Maybe there would be a new message. Maybe it would tell him what to do.
Nothing.
The messages had stopped.
His chest tightened.
Daniel's phone buzzed again—this time with a normal notification. A news alert. Something about a missing teen found dead in another town. He felt a chill run down his spine. His hands shook slightly. He locked the phone and tucked it into his pocket.
He couldn't do this alone.
He needed help.
But who could he trust?
The police had Emily's phone. They weren't moving fast enough. He had to think carefully. One wrong move, and the person sending those messages could find him. Could know he was close.
Daniel drove back toward town, but instead of going home, he stopped at a small café. It was crowded, bright, normal. Normal was a relief, but it also reminded him how abnormal everything had become. He ordered a coffee and sat in the corner, thinking.
Emily had been hiding something. He was sure of it. She wasn't the type to just vanish, to leave a perfectly made bed and a neatly stacked desk. Someone had put that phone where it was found. And whoever it was… had to know him.
He pulled out his notebook, something he hadn't used in years. He started writing everything he remembered: her messages, the night she disappeared, the location of the phone, the jacket fragment.
Patterns. There had to be patterns.
His pen trembled as he wrote the last message again, slowly, carefully.
Stop looking.
You're not safe.
Daniel stared at the words.
Whoever had sent them wasn't just warning him. They were taunting him. Testing him. Waiting for him to make a mistake.
He thought about Emily's friends, her family. Did anyone know something she didn't tell him? Was someone close to her involved?
He remembered her last weeks—how quiet she had become, the way she flinched when someone knocked unexpectedly, the late-night texts that didn't make sense at first. Daniel hadn't noticed it then, but now every detail felt like a clue. Every word, every gesture, every glance.
His phone buzzed again.
Daniel jumped. His hands shook so badly he almost dropped it.
The message was from an unknown number.
He froze.
He debated not opening it. But the fear, the desperate need for answers, overpowered his caution.
He opened it.
A single sentence glared at him from the screen.
You shouldn't have come here.
Daniel dropped the phone. His coffee sloshed onto the table. He didn't care. The message wasn't a joke. It wasn't random.
Someone was near. Watching. Waiting.
He looked up. The café felt the same—busy, bright, normal. But Daniel knew better now. Nothing was normal anymore.
He had to get out.
Outside, the air was crisp, sharp, almost cold enough to burn his lungs. He ran to his car without thinking, leaving his coffee, his notebook, everything behind.
As he drove, Daniel's mind raced. Who was sending the messages? Someone Emily knew? Or a complete stranger?
He remembered something she had said once, jokingly.
"I think someone is always watching me," she had said, laughing nervously. "Maybe even you."
Daniel hadn't laughed that time. He had smiled awkwardly. But now, the words echoed differently in his head. Not a joke. Not funny. A warning.
He drove to the police station, hoping for help, but the thought made him hesitate. What if the person watching Emily—and him—was close to the officers? What if anyone could be involved?
The idea made his stomach churn.
Daniel needed someone he could trust. Someone smart. Someone willing to dig deep.
And there was only one person who fit that.
Detective Harper.
Not Emily's mother—though kind—but a private investigator she had once mentioned. Someone Emily trusted, someone who knew her life in ways Daniel didn't.
He called the number she had given him. The phone rang. Twice. Three times.
A voice answered. Calm. Professional.
"Detective Harper," Daniel said, his voice shaking slightly. "I… I need your help. It's Emily. She's gone. And I think… someone is watching us."
There was a pause on the line. Long enough to make Daniel's heart hammer.
"Meet me," the voice finally said. "Now. Don't stop anywhere. Don't call anyone else."
Daniel hung up, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.
He knew the road ahead would be dangerous. He knew it was going to get worse before it got better.
But he didn't care.
He had to find Emily.
And he had to survive.
Because whoever had taken her… wasn't done yet.
And this time, Daniel realized with a shiver, he might be next.