Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken accusations.
Daniel swallowed hard, his pulse hammering in his ears. "You think I made this up?" His voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Graves didn't answer immediately. He exchanged another glance with his partner, then leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. "We don't think, Daniel. We investigate. And right now, we have a missing woman, an unstable husband, and—" He gestured at the phone still clutched in Daniel's grip. "—absolutely no proof of the call you claim to have received."
Daniel's fingers tightened around the device. "I didn't imagine it," he muttered, more to himself than to them. "I heard her. I heard her."
Graves sighed. "Then help us understand. Why would a woman who's been presumed dead for a year suddenly call you—and only you?"
Daniel opened his mouth, then shut it.
Because he didn't have an answer.
Because none of this made sense.
Because maybe—just maybe—they were right.
The thought sent a sharp jolt of fear through him. What if he was losing his mind? What if Emily had never called? What if the weight of his guilt had finally cracked him open, spilling out delusions he couldn't separate from reality?
No.
That wasn't it.
It couldn't be.
Daniel sucked in a shaky breath. "Her phone," he said abruptly. "It was missing from her grave when I dug it up—" He met Graves' eyes, willing him to understand.
Graves didn't flinch. "And do you have proof of that?"
Daniel clenched his jaw. He knew where this was going.
"We'll be in touch," Graves said, standing. His partner followed suit, offering Daniel one last unreadable look before they both exited the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Alone with the gnawing realization that he was running out of time.
Because if Emily was alive—
Then someone didn't want him to find her.
And they were making sure no one else believed him either.
The door clicked shut behind them, but their presence still lingered, thick and suffocating. Daniel sat frozen, staring at the sterile white walls, his mind a battlefield of doubt and determination.
They didn't believe him. No one did.
But that didn't change the truth.
Emily was out there. Somewhere.
And if someone had gone through the trouble of erasing the call logs, covering tracks, and making him look insane—then they were watching him.
A shiver crawled down his spine.
He needed to move. Now.
His eyes darted to the IV in his arm. He exhaled sharply, gripping the needle. One swift pull, a bite of pain, and it was out. Blood pooled at the surface, but he didn't care. He swung his legs over the bed, every muscle coiled with urgency.
He had to get back to the graveyard.
Had to see it for himself.
Because if Emily's body had never been buried—
Then where the hell was she?
Daniel's pulse pounded as he stumbled out of the hospital room, his hospital gown hanging loosely around him. Every step sent a dull ache through his body, but adrenaline kept him moving. He had to leave before the officers returned with more questions—ones he couldn't answer.
The hallway stretched endlessly under the dim glow of fluorescent lights. A nurse at the station barely looked up as he passed. Good. He didn't need any more obstacles.
The cold air outside hit him like a slap, but he welcomed it. The world felt too normal, too unchanged, while his own had been shattered. He gritted his teeth and hailed the first cab he saw.
"Where to?" the driver asked, barely sparing him a glance.
Daniel hesitated. Saying it out loud made it real.
"The cemetery," he finally said.
The driver shot him a look through the rearview mirror but said nothing, pulling onto the road.
Daniel clenched his fists. He needed answers. The grave. The phone. The missing body.
He wasn't losing his mind. Someone was playing a dangerous game.
And he was done being their pawn.
---
The cemetery loomed ahead, cloaked in shadows. The iron gates groaned as he pushed them open, stepping into the damp silence.
His breath was ragged as he neared Emily's grave, the earth still disturbed from his earlier madness. He dropped to his knees, hands trembling as he reached for the coffin.
It was still open, just as he had left it. But something was different.
Something was missing.
His stomach twisted as realization clawed at his chest.
The phone.
The phone was gone when he left,not lying among Emily's belongings. But now—
It was back.
A sharp rustle in the darkness snapped his head up.
Someone was watching him.
Someone had been here.
His body went rigid, every nerve screaming as he scanned the graves. The trees swayed with the wind, but there—just beyond the headstones—he saw it.
A figure.
Standing still.
Watching him.
Daniel's breath hitched. He couldn't move.
Then, in the dead silence of the night—
His phone rang.
And the caller ID read: Emily
The shrill ring of his phone shattered the silence, an unnatural sound in the stillness of the graveyard. Daniel's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the screen.
Emily.
The name burned into his retinas, his fingers cold and unresponsive as they hovered over the screen. His heart slammed against his ribs. His wife—his dead wife—was calling him. Again.
He swallowed hard and answered.
Silence.
Not the kind that felt empty, but the kind that crawled. The kind that felt like something—or someone—was there. Listening.
Then, a whisper.
"Daniel."
His stomach lurched.
It wasn't a recording. This wasn't a glitch. It was her voice. Weak. Distant. And… terrified.
He gripped the phone tighter. "Emily?"
A breath.
Then, she screamed.
The raw, gut-wrenching sound of someone in pain. Someone being torn apart.
"Emily!" he shouted, standing so fast he nearly tripped over the grave.
Static crackled through the speaker, the scream cutting off. And then—
A low, wet chuckle.
It wasn't her.
His blood ran cold. The laughter slithered into his ears, something guttural and inhuman, twisting the edges of reality. The sound of something that shouldn't exist.
The call ended.
The graveyard seemed to breathe around him. The air pressed down, thick and suffocating. The shadows stretched, moving when they shouldn't.
And then—
A footstep.
Not his.
Behind him.
Daniel turned sharply, his vision blurring. A figure stood at the edge of the graveyard, just beyond the nearest tombstone.
Too tall.
Too still.
Watching.
His phone buzzed again.
No Caller ID.
He didn't answer.
The wind whispered through the graves, and in it, he swore he heard his wife's voice.
"Run."