Chapter 12 - The Whispering Engine
I stepped toward the lace curtains of the living room, keeping my body hidden behind the heavy drapery.
A sleek black sedan with tinted windows sat parked directly across from our driveway.
The engine purred like a resting predator, exhaust curling into the cold drizzle.
Our quiet suburban street had never seen private town cars lingering in the rain.
My mind raced back to Marcus’s hospital room, to the way the monitors had suddenly flatlined two weeks before his projected prognosis.
The doctors had called it an unavoidable arrhythmia.
Chairman Sterling had hugged me in the corridor, his eyes wet with theatrical tears, whispering that Marcus was finally at peace.
Now, the words of Marcus’s hidden letter screamed inside my skull.
Suddenly, Marcus’s private cell phone, which had sat dormant on the entrance table for nearly a month, vibrated loudly against the glass tray.
The sound made me jump, my heart pounding violently against my ribs.
I walked over with hollow steps and stared at the illuminated screen.
*Unknown Caller.*
My hand shook violently as I pressed the green icon and brought the receiver to my ear.
I didn't speak a word.
"Dr. Hayes?" a frantic, breathless female voice gasped on the other end.
It was young, strained, and terrified.
"Marcus, please tell me you still have the tissue samples from Ward 6."
"They’re wiping the digital servers tonight at midnight."
"Sterling knows someone copied the clinical trial logs."
"If you don't release the records to the federal board, they are going to bury what happened to the children."
I gripped the phone tighter, my voice catching before I could force it out.
"Marcus is dead," I whispered into the darkness.
The line fell dead silent.
I could hear the woman’s ragged breathing over the static.
"Mrs. Hayes?" she stammered, terror spiking in her tone.
"Who are you?" I demanded, tears of adrenaline stinging my eyes.
"You need to get your daughter out of that house," the woman whispered.
"The sedan outside isn't watching you to see if you mourn."
"They’re waiting for you to leave so they can tear the floorboards apart."
May you like
Before I could answer, a loud click severed the connection.
Across the street, the black sedan flicked on its high beams, cutting two blinding spears of light straight through our living room window.
