Echoes in the Dark

CHAPTER 5 - Threads in the Dark

By the time Adrian reached the lab the next morning, Mara was already there, her dark hair pulled back in a loose knot, eyes locked on the microscope. A coffee sat untouched beside her, steam long gone.

She didn’t look up when she said, “You’re late.”

“I’m early,” Adrian replied, hanging his coat on the rack.

“Not for me. I’ve been here since five.”

He stepped closer. “What’s got you so obsessed?”

Mara slid a photograph across the table. It was a close-up of the knife from last night—the one with the king of spades dangling from it. Only now, the blade’s edge was marked with a faint, irregular residue.

“Blood?” Adrian asked.

“Not quite. Trace protein, but mixed with something else and it is something synthetic. I ran a preliminary test. It’s an industrial-grade preservative used in cold storage facilities.”

Adrian frowned. “You think our killer’s keeping trophies?”

“No. I think he’s storing victims.”

She turned her monitor toward him, revealing a map with red pins clustered in the industrial district. “I cross-referenced every property using that preservative in significant quantities. Three facilities came up. Only one has the same coordinate prefix we lifted from the card—7130.”

Adrian leaned over her shoulder, reading the name: NorthBridge Cold Storage.

He’d been there once, years ago, during a weapons bust. The building had been abandoned then, at least officially.

Mara tapped the screen. “Security’s listed as minimal, but the property is owned by a shell company that’s… interesting. It links back to the same dummy accounts we’ve seen funding the syndicate’s drug shipments.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “So they’re not just moving product. They’re moving bodies.”

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The cold storage facility sat like a concrete tomb on the edge of the river. The air outside was heavy with fog, muffling the hum of the city.

Adrian killed the headlights two blocks out. “We go quiet,” he said, checking his sidearm.

Mara pulled on gloves. “And if we find something?”

“We call it in. No heroics.”

“Right. Because you’re the only one allowed those.”

He shot her a look but didn’t argue.

Inside, their footsteps echoed over cracked tiles. The air smelled faintly of ammonia and something sweeter, heavier—rot disguised by chemicals.

They moved past rusted conveyor belts and empty pallets until they reached the freezer section. Adrian pushed the heavy door open.

Cold slapped him in the face, stealing his breath. Frost coated the walls, and rows of metal racks stretched into the shadows.

Mara swept her flashlight along the shelves. “Oh God.”

Bodies. Not in bags, not hidden. Just… stacked. Some fresh, others frozen solid, their skin pale blue under the thin glaze of ice.

Adrian’s stomach knotted. “They’re stockpiling them.”

“For what?” Mara’s voice was barely a whisper.

He didn’t answer because he didn’t know.

They documented everything quickly, Mara’s hands steady despite the horror in her eyes. She crouched beside one victim, noting the precision of the incision at the neck. “Whoever did this isn’t just killing. They’re harvesting.”

Adrian’s phone vibrated. Another blocked text.

YOU’RE ON THE CLOCK.

Attached was a photo.

Mara. Taken through the blinds of her apartment.

Back in the car, Adrian’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel.

“They’ve been inside your building,” he said.

Mara stared at the phone, her face unreadable but her voice low. “Then they’re not afraid of being seen. They want us to know.”

Adrian knew that tone—it was the same edge he heard in his own voice when a case turned personal.

It was no longer just about catching a killer.

It was about surviving long enough to fight back.