Chapter 4 THE PAST UNVEILED

The sun was just beginning to rise as Lucas stood outside the small, dilapidated house. It looked smaller than he remembered, the paint peeling off the walls, the windows cracked and dirty. This was the house he had grown up in, the place where everything had changed.

Taking a deep breath, Lucas pushed open the creaky front gate and walked up to the door. The key is still fit, though the lock protested as he turned it. He stepped inside, the smell of dust and mildew filling his nostrils.

He hadn't been here in years, not since his mother's death. Everything was exactly as he remembered, but older, more worn down. He walked through the small living room, his eyes scanning the faded wallpaper and the old furniture. Memories flooded back, bittersweet and painful.

He moved into what used to be his mother's room, the floorboards creaking under his weight. The room was bare, just an old dresser and a bed covered in a tattered sheet. Lucas walked over to the dresser and started pulling open the drawers, one by one.

There wasn't much left-just some old clothes and a few trinkets. He was about to give up when he noticed something strange about the bottom drawer. It was stuck as if something was wedged behind it.

He knelt, his heart racing as he tugged on the drawer. It gave way with a jerk, and he reached inside, feeling around. His fingers brushed against something cold and metallic.

He pulled out a small, rusty box. It was old, the hinges barely holding together. With shaking hands, Lucas pried it open.

Inside were letters, neatly tied together with a piece of string. He untied them, his eyes scanning the handwriting. They were from his mother, addressed to someone named "J."

There was also a photograph, tucked between the letters. Lucas pulled it out, his breath catching in his throat. It was a picture of his mother, smiling, her arm around a man he didn't recognize. They were standing in front of a car, a sleek black sedan with tinted windows.

Lucas's mind raced. He had never seen this man before. Who was he? And why did his mother have these letters hidden away?

He looked back at the letters, flipping through them quickly. They were filled with details about money, meetings, and names he didn't recognize. And then, at the bottom of one letter, he saw it.

"J, I'm scared. They're watching me. If anything happens, take care of Lucas. He's all I have left."

Lucas felt a lump in his throat as he stared at the words. His mother had been in trouble, and he had never known. All this time, he had thought her death was a random act of violence. But it wasn't. She had been involved in something dangerous, something that had gotten her killed.

He stuffed the letters and the photograph back into the box, his mind spinning. He had to find out who this man was and what his mother had been involved in.

Back at the precinct, Lucas headed straight for the evidence room. He needed to see the old case files, to piece together what had happened all those years ago.

He found the file on his mother's case, the papers yellowed with age. He spread them out on the table, scanning the reports, the witness statements, and the photos. But there was nothing new, nothing that he hadn't seen before.

Frustrated, he was about to close the file when a name caught his eye Miguel Alvarez. He had given a statement, saying he saw a shadowy figure near the crime scene the night of his mother's murder. But then he had disappeared, vanishing without a trace.

Lucas read the statement carefully, his heart pounding. The description was vague, but there was something familiar about it. The way the man moved, the way he watched. It matched the profile of The Whisperer.

Lucas felt a surge of adrenaline. This was it. This man, Miguel, could be the key to everything. If he could find him, he could finally get some answers.

He grabbed his phone and called Mark. "I need you to run a name for me, Miguel Alvarez. He was a witness in my mother's case."

"Lucas, are you sure about this?" Mark sounded worried. "You're already in deep. Don't let this case eat you alive."

"I have to do this, Mark," Lucas said firmly. "Just find him."

There was a pause, and then Mark sighed. "Alright, I'll see what I can do."

Lucas hung up, his mind racing. Miguel had seen something that night, something that had scared him enough to disappear. And Lucas was going to find out what it was.

The rundown motel on the outskirts of the city was the last place Lucas had expected to find Miguel Alvarez. The building was a sad, crumbling structure, the neon sign flickering weakly in the darkness.

Lucas knocked on the door of room 14, his heart pounding in his chest. There was a shuffling noise from inside, and then the door opened a crack. A pair of fearful eyes peeked out.

"Who are you?" the man asked, his voice shaking.

"My name is Lucas Reed," Lucas said quietly. "I'm a detective. I need to talk to you about my mother."

The man's eyes widened, and he tried to shut the door, but Lucas pushed his shoulder against it. "Please, I just want to talk."

Miguel hesitated, then slowly opened the door. He looked older than Lucas had expected, his face lined with worry and fear. He gestured for Lucas to come in, his hands trembling.

"What do you want?" Miguel asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know you were a witness the night my mother was killed," Lucas said, keeping his voice calm. "I know you saw something."

Miguel flinched, his eyes darting around the room. "I don't know anything. I shouldn't even be talking to you."

"Please," Lucas said, his heart aching. "You're the only one who can help me. The Whisperer is back, and he's targeting people connected to my mother's case. You're in danger."

Miguel's face went pale. He looked like he was about to bolt, but then he sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I saw her meeting with a man," he said quietly. "A few days before she died. They were arguing. I didn't hear much, but she looked scared."

"Who was he?" Lucas asked, his pulse racing.

"I don't know," Miguel said, shaking his head. "But he was dangerous. I saw him the night she was killed, too. He was watching the house. And then, after she was dead, he was gone."

Lucas felt a chill run down his spine. "What did he look like?"

Miguel hesitated. "Tall, dark hair, scar on his cheek. I don't know. I never saw him again."

Lucas nodded, his mind reeling. This was more than he had ever known before. But before he could ask another question, the window shattered.

Miguel's eyes widened in shock, and then he slumped forward, blood pouring from a bullet wound in his chest. Lucas dove to the ground, his heart hammering in his chest.

He crawled over to Miguel, his hands shaking as he pressed down on the wound. "Stay with me, Miguel. Come on, stay with me!"

But it was too late. Miguel's eyes glazed over, his body going limp. Lucas felt a surge of rage and grief as he looked up at the broken window.

The Whisperer had been watching, waiting. And now, Miguel was dead.

Lucas was still shaking when he returned to his apartment. He fumbled with the keys, his hands trembling. He pushed the door open and froze.

The place was a mess. Furniture overturned,papers scattered everywhere. Someone had been here, tearing the place apart.

His heart pounded as he moved through the wreckage, his eyes darting around. Then he saw ita note pinned to the wall, a knife sticking through it. Blood stained the paper, the words scrawled in crimson:

"You're closer than you think, but so am I. Stay away, or more will die."

Lucas's stomach turned as he read the message, his mind spinning. The Whisperer was always one step ahead, always watching. And now, he was coming for Lucas, too.

He sank down onto the couch, his head in his hands. How was he supposed to stop a ghost? How was he supposed to protect the people he cared about?

The Whisperer was closing in, and Lucas was running out of time.