Between Lies and Blood

Chapter 10 – A Voice on the Phone

Lena didn’t remember picking the phone up.

One moment it lay face-down on the stones by the creek, the screen dark, the last message still burning behind her eyes. The next, it was pressed to her ear, vibrating with a low, insistent hum that felt less like a ringtone and more like a pulse.

Caleb’s voice came from somewhere far away. “Lena, don’t answer it.”

Too late.

The line clicked. Then he breathed.

Not static. Not silence. Breathing. Slow. Intentional. As if whoever was on the other end wanted her to know they were there, alive, present, and unafraid.

“Hello?” Lena said, though her throat barely formed the word.

A pause. Long enough to make her wonder if the call would end without sound.

Then a voice spoke.

“You always hated that word.”

Her knees weakened. The world tilted, the creek blurring at the edges. She recognized the cadence immediately, not the person, but the rhythm. Familiar in the way a nightmare was familiar.

“Who is this?” she asked.

The voice chuckled softly. “You ask that every time.”

Caleb’s hand closed around her wrist, grounding her. His eyes searched her face, reading fear like a second language.

The voice continued, unbothered. “I was wondering when you’d come back to the water. You always do. Even when you swear you won’t.”

Lena swallowed. “If you want to talk, then talk. Don’t hide behind riddles.”

“Oh, I’m not hiding,” the voice replied. “I’m reminding you.”

A sharp inhale. “Of what?”

There it was again, that pause. Deliberate. Cruel.

“The truth doesn’t disappear just because you’re afraid to print it.”

Lena went still.

The sentence echoed in her head, word for word, punctuation and all. A line from her exposé. The one she’d never published. The one that had ended her career before it began.

Caleb’s grip tightened. “What did they say?” he demanded quietly.

Lena lowered the phone slightly, her hand shaking. “It’s quoting my work.”

Caleb stiffened.

The voice returned, closer now, as if leaning toward the receiver. “You remember writing that line, don’t you? Three a.m. Coffee gone cold. Hands shaking. You told yourself it was the most honest thing you’d ever written.”

Lena’s mouth went dry. “No one else has that draft.”

“I know,” the voice said gently. “That’s why it matters.”

Her mind raced, flipping through possibilities, hacks, stolen files, and old backups. None of them explained how intimate the voice sounded. How certain.

“You think this is about Emily,” the voice continued. “But Emily was just the beginning.”

Rage flared, hot and sharp. “Don’t you say her name.”

“She said yours first.”

The words sliced through her.

Caleb mouthed, where are you? Lena shook her head; barely aware she was doing it.

“You met her that night to stop her,” the voice went on. “She wanted to go to the police. To tell them what really happened. You convinced her to wait.”

“That’s a lie,” Lena said, but the protest rang hollow even to her own ears.

“You’ve gotten very good at telling those.”

The creek gurgled softly behind her, the sound suddenly obscene.

“Why are you doing this?” Lena asked. “What do you want?”

The answer came without hesitation. “I want you to finish what you started.”

A breeze swept through the trees, carrying with it the scent of wet earth and rot.

“Finish the story,” the voice said. “The real one.”

“And if I don’t?”

Another chuckle. Colder this time.

“Then I’ll keep reminding you,” the voice said. “Of the parts you’ve forgotten. Of the parts you pretend weren’t your fault.”

A click sounded, then another vibration.

Lena pulled the phone away and looked at the screen.

A new message. A location pin.

Quarry Road.

Her childhood home.

“You were never supposed to remember alone,” the voice added. “I’ll see you soon.”

The call ended.

Silence rushed in, loud and disorienting.

Caleb took the phone from her hand, scrolling quickly. His face hardened with each second. “This isn’t some crank,” he said. “They’re controlling the narrative. Leading you.”

“They know about the exposé,” Lena whispered. “They know about Emily. About that night.”

Caleb looked at her sharply. “What night?”

Lena hesitated. The truth pressed against her chest, heavy and suffocating. “The night she told me the town wasn’t what we thought. That someone powerful had done something unforgivable and gotten away with it.”

Caleb’s jaw tightened. “And you didn’t report it.”

“I tried,” Lena said. “But the evidence disappeared. Witnesses recanted. And then… then I ended up in the hospital.”

The memory surfaced without warning, white lights, antiseptic, a doctor asking her the same questions over and over. Do you know what day it is?

Caleb went still. “Hospitalized

Lena nodded slowly. “There are hours missing. Whole blocks of time.” She met his gaze. “What if I didn’t leave Ashford Creek because I was scared?”

Caleb didn’t answer.

“What if I left because someone made sure, I wouldn’t remember enough to stay?”

Behind them, the creek flowed on, patient, watching.

And somewhere in Ashford Creek, the story was already writing its next chapter.