THE THIRTEEN SHADOWS

Sarah's POV: "Dead in the Dark"

The phone screamed at me like an angry cat.

I jumped up from my couch, knocking over my coffee mug. The hot liquid splashed across my case files, but I didn't care. My phone only rang at 3 AM when someone was dead.

"Kane here," I said, my voice rough from sleep.

"We got a body downtown. Weird one. Captain wants you here now." Officer Jenkins sounded scared, and Jenkins never got scared.

I grabbed my keys and badge. "What's weird about it?"

"You'll see when you get here. Just... bring your best coffee."

The line went dead. I stared at my phone, feeling ice in my stomach. In five years as a detective, I'd seen every kind of death Chicago could throw at me. What could make Jenkins sound like that?

Twenty minutes later, I stood outside the biggest office building in the city. Police cars filled the street, their red and blue lights coloring everything like a nightmare. Yellow tape blocked off the main entry, and reporters were already gathering like hungry wolves.

"Detective Kane!" A young officer waved me over. "Victim's on the fifteenth floor. Mr. Richard Blackwood, age fifty-two. Owns half the buildings in this city."

I knew that name. Blackwood had been in the news a lot lately, but not for good reasons. Something about stolen money and lost witnesses.

The elevator felt like it took forever to reach the fifteenth floor. When the doors opened, I saw more police cops than I'd ever seen at one crime scene. They all looked sick.

"Kane! Over here!" Detective Rodriguez called from a corner office. His face was pale white.

I walked through the office, trying not to step on anything important. The place was huge, with glass windows showing the whole city. But I wasn't here to enjoy the view.

Richard Blackwood sat behind his desk like he was still working. Except his eyes were wide open and looking at nothing. His mouth hung open in a quiet scream. No blood, no bullet holes, no knife cuts. He looked like he'd been scared to death.

"How did he die?" I asked Rodriguez.

"That's the weird part. The medical guy says it looks like a heart attack, but Blackwood was totally healthy. Ran marathons and everything."

I stepped closer to the desk. "So what's got everyone so freaked out?"

Rodriguez pointed to a piece of white paper next to Blackwood's hand. "Read that."

I put on my gloves and picked up the paper. The message was written in red ink, with perfect handwriting that looked like it came from an old book: "One of thirteen innocents must die for one evil soul. The Phantom sees all crimes. Justice begins now."

My hands started shaking. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Gets worse," Rodriguez said. "Look at this."

He led me to the window behind Blackwood's chair. Someone had drawn a sign on the glass with the same red ink. It looked like an eye inside a triangle, with the number "13" written underneath.

"No fingerprints anywhere," Rodriguez continued. "No security cameras got anyone coming or going. The building was locked up tight, and Blackwood's keycard shows he came in at 11 PM. Nobody else used their card after that."

I studied the sign on the window. Something about it made my skin crawl. "How did the killer get in?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out. The security guard says nobody came through the hallway. The other doors were locked and alarmed. It's like the killer just popped out of thin air."

I walked around the office, looking for anything the killer might have left behind. The desk was neat and clean. The computer was still on, showing Blackwood's email. The last message was sent at 11:47 PM to someone called "M.Stone" with the subject line: "The past stays buried."

"Rodriguez, who's M.Stone?"

He checked his notes. "We're looking into it. Blackwood sent that email less than four hours ago. Right before he died."

I felt that familiar tingle in my brain that meant I was onto something big. "What about this charity money thing? I remember seeing Blackwood's name in the news."

"Ten years ago, he was accused of taking two million dollars from a children's charity. But the case got dropped when the main witness fled. Some kid who saw everything just disappeared with her whole family."

The ice in my stomach got colder. "A kid witness? How old?"

"Thirteen at the time. Same age as..." Rodriguez stopped talking and stared at the message again. "Oh no. You think the thirteen in the message..."

"Means thirteen years old when she should have testified," I finished. "And now someone thinks thirteen people need to die because one guilty person got away with his crimes."

We stood there in silence, both thinking the same terrible thought. If this killer really planned to murder thirteen people for payback, then Richard Blackwood was just the beginning.

My phone buzzed with a text message. I looked at the screen and felt my blood turn to ice water.

The message was from an unknown number, but I knew it was from the killer: "Detective Kane, you look very serious standing in that office. Did you enjoy my first gift? Twelve more presents are coming soon. The innocent must pay for the guilty. - P"

I spun around, searching the windows of the other buildings. Someone was watching me right now. Someone who knew my name and had my phone number.

"Rodriguez!" I grabbed his arm. "The killer is watching us! They just sent me a text!"

But when I looked at my phone again, the message was gone. The screen showed no new words, like nothing had ever been there.

Rodriguez stared at me. "Sarah, what are you talking about? Your phone didn't make any sound."

I scrolled through my texts frantically. Nothing. Had I dreamed it? Was I losing my mind?

Then I saw something that made my heart stop completely. Taped to the bottom of Blackwood's desk, where only someone crouching down could see it, was a small white envelope with my name written in that same red ink.

Inside the envelope was a single picture. It showed me as a twelve-year-old girl, standing next to my little sister Emma on the day before she was killed.

The killer knew about Emma.

The killer had been watching me for a very long time.