Unraveling the Web

The morning light filtering through the blinds in Sam's guest room was a stark contrast to the darkness that had enveloped Liam's thoughts the night before. He woke with a start, the memory of the whispers and the attack still fresh in his mind. At least he didn't have nightmares this time. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand: 8:00 AM. Time to move.

He found Sam in the kitchen, already brewing coffee. The aroma filled the apartment, a comforting scent that helped to dispel the lingering unease.

"Morning," Sam said, offering him a mug. "Sleep well?"

"As well as could be expected," Liam replied, taking the mug. "We need to talk about Miller."

"Agreed," Sam said, his expression grim. "He's not just some random stalker. He's a cop, which means he has access to information, resources… and weapons."

"And he's clearly involved in something," Liam added. "Something connected to the disappearances, to the shadow."

"The question is, how?" Sam asked, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Why is he targeting me? What does he know?"

Liam sipped his coffee, the rich taste refreshing his mind.

"And what about the subway station?" Liam asked. "Would he have followed us there?"

"It's possible," Sam said, his voice thoughtful. "He could have gone there for another reason too. What if the figure who gave us the map that night really was an enemy? They could be tricking us while pretending to help. We need to get your phone back, see if there's any information on it that can shed light on this."

"I still don't like the idea of going back there," Liam admitted, a shiver running down his spine.

"We'll be going together," Sam said, his voice firm. "We'll go during the day, when there are more people around. And we'll be prepared."

They spent the next hour planning their return to the subway station. They gathered their equipment. As they prepared to leave, Sam's phone rang. He stared blankly at his phone. It wasn't someone else, nor a random number.

"What's wrong, why aren't you answering?" Liam asked with a concerned voice, and he looked at the phone screen.

To his horror, it was his phone number, his own name, displayed as the caller.

Sam hesitated, then answered.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice cautious.There was no response. Just static, and a faint, chilling laughter that seemed to echo from the depths of the line. Then, silence.

Sam stared at the phone, his heart pounding. "That was… unsettling," he said, his voice low.

"Who was it?" Liam asked.

"No one spoke," Sam replied. "Just static and… laughter."

"They're playing with us," Liam said, his voice grim. "Trying to scare us."

"Let's get your phone," Sam said, his voice firm. "We need to get to the station."

As they made their way towards the subway station, they noticed they were being followed. A figure, keeping a discreet distance, moved in their wake.

"Miller," Liam whispered, his eyes narrowing.

"Let's see what he's up to," Sam replied, a glint in his eye. "We'll catch him red-handed."

They ducked into an abandoned building, a crumbling structure that exuded an aura of decay. The air hung thick with the smell of mildew and dust, a testament to years of neglect. Sunlight struggled to penetrate the grimy windows, casting long, skeletal shadows across the debris-strewn floor. The silence within was broken only by the occasional creak of the aging timbers and the scuttling of unseen creatures in the walls.

Miller, thinking he was being careful enough, followed them inside.

He moved cautiously, his eyes scanning the shadows that danced in the dim light. The air was cold and damp, clinging to his skin like a shroud. He noticed that only Liam was now still walking in front. A shiver ran down his spine. He had a hunch that it was a trap, and decided to run back out.

Before he could escape, a sudden blow to the back of his head sent him crashing to the ground amidst a cloud of dust and debris. The metallic tang of blood filled the air.

"There we go," Sam said, his voice laced with satisfaction.

Miller woke with a groan, his head throbbing. He found himself bound to a chair, his wrists and ankles secured with tight ropes that bit into his skin. The rough wood of the chair pressed against his back, adding to his discomfort. Liam and Sam stood before him, their expressions grim in the dim light filtering through a cracked window.

"Did you have to hit so hard?" Miller grumbled, his voice laced with pain.

"Oh, sorry, my bad," Sam replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Shall we do it again then? This time, I won't hit so hard."

Miller glared at him, struggling against his restraints. The ropes chafed at his wrists, but he couldn't break free. "You good for nothing lowlifes! Let me go!"

"It's no use," Liam said, his voice firm. "We have questions, and you're going to answer them."

They began their interrogation, their voices echoing in the cavernous space. They questioned Miller about his actions, his motives, and his connection to the disappearances. Miller remained tight-lipped, his jaw clenched, refusing to divulge any information.

Sam pulled out his phone, displaying an image on the screen. "Does your wife know about this?" he asked, his voice cold.

Miller's eyes widened in shock. It was a photo of him with another woman, clearly engaged in an affair. "How… how did you get that?" he stammered, his face flushing crimson. "You punk! Let me go! I'll beat you to a pulp!"

"Oh? But this punk knows how to send this image to your wife within ten seconds," Sam mocked, his voice laced with amusement. "One. Two. Three…"

"No! Please don't do it! Stop! I'll tell you everything!" Miller pleaded, his voice filled with desperation.

"Great! Let's get you talking then," Sam grinned, pulling out a sound recording device.

"Beep."

Liam watched Sam with a mix of awe and apprehension. Sam's methods were unorthodox, but effective.

Miller confessed that after the incident at Marco's disappearance scene, he had developed a deep resentment towards Sam. He couldn't shake the feeling he got from Sam's intense glare, even though it was just for a brief second. His pride was hurt, and so he wanted to teach Sam a lesson, to rough him up a little.

He actually even followed them to the abandoned subway station, despite the time being midnight. Just when he was about to descend, a tall figure clad in black had appeared, blocking his way, offering him a deal. The figure promised him anything he wanted: power, riches, fame, anything his heart desired. All he had to do was follow their instructions obediently.

"It seemed too good to be true, and it looked really shady," Miller admitted, his voice laced with regret. "But when I asked what would happen if I didn't comply, they said they would kill me. I had no choice."

"What's their motive?" Liam asked, his voice sharp. "What have they instructed you to do?"

"They wanted me to find opportunities to capture either one of you," Miller replied. "They instructed me to first try separating you, sowing seeds of discord and distrust."

"So that was you!" Liam seethed, his anger rising. "Did you also come to my house to kill me?"

"No, that wasn't me! I never came to your house!" Miller croaked, his eyes wide with fear. "Like I said, even though I didn't have a choice, I had my reasons with Sam. I went only to his house, that too without entering!"

Liam studied him, noting the difference in physique and movement. He realized Miller was telling the truth.

He glanced at Sam, who was packing up the evidence, and vigorously shook his head as if trying to dismiss a thought. He then shifted his attention back to Miller.

"We're taking you to the police station," Liam said, his voice firm. They untied him.

Suddenly, Miller bolted, sprinting towards the rooftop access. Liam and Sam gave chase, their footsteps echoing through the dilapidated building.

They found Miller standing at the edge of the rooftop.

"It's too late," Miller said, his voice filled with despair. "They'll come after me. They'll punish me. They'll corrupt my entire soul! No, no! I don't want that!"

"Calm down!" Liam urged, trying to approach him. "We can help you."

Miller closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if making up his mind. "It's too late," he repeated. "They're always watching. They won't let me go. But…," he paused for a moment, "But I won't let them have the upper hand."

The wind whipped at Miller's coat, a cold caress against his skin. Below, the city life buzzed, a distant, indifferent hum. His eyes, wide and haunted, fixed on the edge. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.

He closed his eyes, took a final, shuddering breath, and stepped off the edge.

The wind rushed past his ears, a mournful howl, as he plunged into the abyss. Below, the city reached up, a concrete maw ready to swallow him whole.