Whispers of the Turning Seasons (part 23)

The sound was unmistakable.

A single footstep.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Directly above their heads.

Evelyn froze mid-breath.
The boy clutched her hand so tightly his nails dug into her skin.

Rowan raised a fist—
Silence.

The group stayed motionless, ears straining.

Another footstep.
This one closer to the basement hatch.

Ellis whispered, barely audible, “Everyone lights off.”

Darkness swallowed the room as the flashlights clicked off one by one.
Only the faint glow from the recorder’s dying battery flickered weakly like a heartbeat.

Evelyn’s pulse pounded in her ears.

The footsteps grew heavier.

Whoever was up there… wasn’t trying to hide.


---

The Hatch Handle Moves

A metallic rattle broke through the darkness.

Evelyn’s breath hitched.

Rowan’s hand moved slowly to his holster, the faint sound of leather shifting in the cold.

The iron handle of the basement hatch jiggled.
Once.
Twice.

Then stopped.

Silence.

Ellis’s whisper trembled with tension:
“He knows we’re down here.”

Not thinks.
Knows.

Rowan’s voice dropped to a whisper so low Evelyn barely heard it:

“Positions. Now.”

The team silently spread out—
Rowan near the base of the stairs,
Ellis flanking the far wall,
the deputies behind the old crib for cover.

Evelyn held the boy close.

The hatch creaked.

Dust rained from the ceiling.

The handle began to turn—

Then—

A deafening crash.

The hatch slammed shut from above.
Heavy footsteps sprinted across the cabin floor.
A door flung open—
then banged closed so hard the walls trembled.

Rowan raced up the stairs.

“Stay here!” he shouted back.

But Evelyn didn’t listen.

She bolted after him.


---

Outside the Cabin

Snow swirled wildly as Evelyn burst into the cold air.

Rowan stood near the tree line, gun drawn, scanning the forest.

“Did you see him?” Evelyn gasped.

Rowan shook his head.
“He was fast. Too fast.”

Ellis emerged, breath forming clouds.

“Tracks!” she pointed.

Fresh footprints in the snow led away from the cabin—
long strides, precise, controlled.

Not panicked.

Not rushed.

Calculated.

Rowan crouched beside them.

“These prints… they weren’t left by someone stumbling or running blindly.”

He looked up at Evelyn.

“They were left by someone who’s been here before.”

Her stomach twisted.

The boy stepped out beside her, gripping her coat.

“He watched us,” he whispered.
“He waited until we opened the basement.”

Evelyn felt ice seep into her bones.

Yes.
He had.

This wasn’t coincidence.
This was timing.


---

The Tracks Lead Somewhere Unexpected

Ellis followed the trail, stopping at the edge of the woods.

The prints ended abruptly.

No gradual fade.
No dispersal.
Just… gone.

“Impossible,” she muttered. “Unless he was—”

“Pulled into a vehicle,” Rowan finished.

He pointed to a patch of flattened snow farther away.

Tire impressions.
Deep.
Recently made.

A vehicle had been waiting in the shadows.

Evelyn stepped closer.
Her breath caught.

There, in the snow beside the tire tracks, was something small.

A folded piece of paper.

Rowan retrieved it with gloved fingers.

He opened it carefully.

Evelyn’s blood ran cold.

It was a photograph.

Old.
Edges burnt.

A picture of two kids—

A tiny girl in a red coat.
A slightly older boy holding her hand.

Both smiling.

On the back, handwritten in small, slanted letters:

“I told you I would come back.”

Evelyn staggered backward.

Rowan caught her arm.

“Evelyn—look at me—breathe.”

But she couldn’t.

Because she recognized the handwriting.

It was the same handwriting etched into the basement wall:

“SHE WILL COME BACK FOR HER.”

Except now the meaning felt different.
Twisted.
Possessive.

The “she” in the message wasn’t the woman in the hospital.

It was someone else.

Someone who believed Evelyn belonged to them.

And now they were here.

Watching.

Waiting.

Hunting.


---

Back Inside the Cabin

The team regrouped inside, sealing the door.

The boy’s voice cracked as he asked:

“Do you think he… the one upstairs… do you think he started the fire that night?”

Evelyn knelt so she was eye-level with him.

“I don’t know. But I promise you—we’re not letting him anywhere near you.”

The boy nodded, though his eyes stayed glued to the basement hatch.

Rowan joined them, jaw tight.

“Whoever that was, he knew exactly what he wanted.”

“What?” Evelyn asked.

Rowan looked at her.

“You.”

Her breath caught.

“But why? What does he want with me?”

Rowan hesitated.

“Because, Evelyn… he didn’t take anything else. He didn’t search the house. He didn’t try to destroy evidence.”

He held up the photo.

“He left this for you.”

Ellis stepped forward.

“And he wants you to know he’s close.”

The cabin suddenly felt colder.

Rowan rubbed his forehead, thinking hard.

“The timing is too perfect. He waited until we were underground. Until you had the key. Until you opened the past.”

He looked at Evelyn again.

“He knows your patterns. He knows your routine. He knows your story.”

The realization hit her like a blade.

“Then he’s been watching for a long time.”

Rowan nodded slowly.

“Years, maybe.”

Evelyn felt a shiver crawl through her spine.

“Why now?”

Rowan didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t know.

Or because the truth was too dangerous to say out loud.


---

The Voice on the Radio

Suddenly, the radio on Ellis’s vest crackled.

“Dispatch to Unit Six… we—static—we have… a message—static— for Evelyn Hawthorne.”

Everyone froze.

Evelyn stepped closer.

“This is Evelyn. I’m here.”

The radio hissed.

A distorted voice—
but unmistakably human—
came through.

Low.
Calm.
Controlled.

“I told you the truth was buried. I told you I’d return when you were ready.”

Evelyn’s breath stopped.

Rowan’s eyes widened.

Ellis grabbed the radio.

“Identify yourself!”

Static.

Then the voice again:

“Don’t trust the one who raised you.”

The room spun around Evelyn.

No—
no—

The voice continued, softer:

“I’m coming to get what’s mine.”

The radio went dead.

Silence.

Complete.

Suffocating.

The boy whispered:

“He found us.”

Evelyn whispered back, voice breaking:

“No…
He found me.”