Chapter 2: The Profiler’s Mask The bloody handprint on the wall hadn’t been there that morning. Jason stood frozen, staring at it. The print was fresh. Wet. Real. He scanned the apartment—silent. No broken windows. No forced entry. No footsteps. Just him… and the bloody signature from a ghost. He stepped back, heart hammering. His instincts screamed for logic, evidence—but his gut told a different story. Someone had been in here. Someone who knew. Jason grabbed his Glock from the drawer, moved methodically from room to room—closet, kitchen, bathroom. Empty. No sign of a break-in, yet the handprint stared back like a curse. He wiped it off with a cloth, fingers shaking, then burned it in the sink. He couldn’t report it. Not y

. Chapter 4: The Cellar Door Jason gripped the photo, heart pounding as he stared at the bloodied image of Lily. She was smiling in the picture, but the crimson streaks across her face told a different story—one of pain, betrayal… and warning. His own name was scrawled over it in thick red ink, like an accusation. Behind him, his phone was still buzzing—Blocked Number. He didn’t answer this time. He simply crushed the photo in his fist and headed out the door. 2:10 a.m. – Holt Family Property (Abandoned) Jason hadn’t been back to his childhood home since the night of the murders. The house was condemned now. Weeds overtook the front yard, the windows boarded up, a rusted “FOR SALE” sign leaning drunkenly on the gate. But the storm cellar—he remembered it clearly. A metal hatch behind the house, once sealed with a heavy padloc