ECHOES OF US

CHAPTER 5

It’s Monday. Of course my alarm screams at me like it has a personal vendetta. I groan, slap it off,and lie there for a second, debating if life is really worth moving today.

I drag myself out of bed and stumble into the bathroom. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, messy hair, dark circles, “I look like a disaster” I whisper to myself

The shower wakes me up just enough to function. Then straight to the kitchen–kettle on,tea brewing, bread in the toaster.

When the toaster clicks, I smear some jam on the toast and shoved a bite in my mouth while already reaching for my clothes.

Black long sleeve. Black free pants, simple wristwatch. Nothing fancy. Quick bun for the hair. Practical and presentable.

I barely make it onto the subway, squeezing in just before the door shuts. Monday mornings on public transport are their own special kind of torture, too many people, not enough air, and me silently begging the train to move faster. I keep checking my watch, tapping my foot like that will somehow bend time in my favor.

The second the train stops, I'm out, practically jogging the whole way. By the time I push through the building doors, my chest is already burning, and my bag keeps slipping off my shoulders. No pause, no deep breath, I head straight for the conference room.

The moment I walk in,the eyes on me are enough to make me wish I had just stayed in bed.

“You're late for the meeting” my old grumpy boss growls without even looking up from his papers. His voice has that edge that makes my stomach twist.

I bow my head quickly, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “Sorry sir, I had issues with my car, so I had to board the subway”

“Sit” he barked, and I slid into the nearest chair, trying to ignore how every eye in the room followed me like I had interrupted the presidents speech.

Lois, my colleague, cleared his throat and launched into the meeting. He always had that I live-for -breaking-news energy, and today was no different.

“The mystery serial killer of the city struck again” Lois began, clicking to the first slide on the screen. “A man of unknown age was found dead inside his car. As always, his insides had been removed…” his voice dropped lower, dramatic, like we were in a crime podcast. “The police are investigating, but so far, nothing has been published. If we can be there first to break this story and provide detailed coverage, our company could move up from number ten on the top media list to at least six, maybe even five”.

The room buzzed with whispered excitement, pens scratching notes. I raised my hand briefly, my voice steady

“Regarding the case” I said, I heard a hospital received a cooler of insides. Anonymously”.

The room went dead silent

The silence stretched for a beat too long, everyone staring at me like I'd dropped a live grenade on the conference table. Lois adjusted his glasses clearly irritated i’d stolen his spotlight.

My boss finally lifted his head, squinting at me over the rim of his glasses.

“Interesting”, he muttered, leaning back in his chair “very interesting’.

Then his gaze sharpened, pinning me in place “you. You’ll take this case”.

My heart thumped so hard I swore the whole roomm could hear it.

“Yes sir” I said. Who could know better about this case

He didn't stop there “and tell me, have you made anyy progress with that retired soldier story? The one we discussed last week?”

I swallowed hard. “I've started gathering information, but–”

“No buts.” His voice cut me through like a knife. “If by the end of Friday you cannot provide a publishable news story on both the retired soldier and this serial killer case…” he leaned forward, his grumpy old eyes narrowing. “...then you’d better be ready to lose your job”.

The words hit me like a slap. Around the table, I could feel my colleagues eyes, some sympathetic, most amused. Lois smirked like he was already picking my replacement chair.

I forced a nod “understood, sir”.

“That’ll be the end of this meeting. Everybody to work,” my boss snapped, and just like that, the room scattered—papers shuffling, laptops closing, footsteps echoing against the tiles.

I slipped out of the conference room, then out of the building entirely, the air outside hitting me like a slap. For a second, I just stood there on the sidewalk, the city buzzing around me like it had no idea my career was dangling by a single fraying thread.

Where should I even start? The retired soldier… or the serial killer? Both stories felt like giant locked doors and I was standing here with no key. My chest tightened as the weight of my boss’s words replayed in my head: Friday. Or you’re done.

I looked left, then right, clutching my bag tighter. Hospital? Police station? The soldier? I bit my lip. Every option felt like a trap, but standing here doing nothing was even worse.

The police station smelled like burnt coffee and tired men. I hated it already. Still, I forced my feet forward, flashing my press badge at the front desk like I belonged here.

A young officer—barely older than me, if that—walked me to one of the side offices. His uniform was crisp, his expression not so much. “So, Miss…?”

“Alayna,” I said, setting my notebook on the desk like a shield. “I’m here regarding the recent murder. I’ve heard whispers about unusual details. Care to comment?”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Unusual is one word for it. The media already has too much blood to chew on. We’re not releasing any further information.”

I tilted my head, pen hovering. “No official statement? Not even about the body being found in the car?”

That got me a flicker of surprise—small, but I saw it.

“You people always know more than you should,” he muttered. “Look, off the record—there was… something strange. The insides were gone. Again. We’re not even sure how it was done so cleanly.”

I scribbled fake notes while biting back a smile. Cleanly. If only he knew.

“Thank you, officer. I appreciate your… candor,” I said sweetly, tucking my pen away.

He gave me a long, suspicious look, like he wasn’t sure if I was a reporter or a vulture. “Be careful where you poke around, Miss Alayna. This killer isn’t leaving sloppy trails.”

I leaned forward, lowering my voice like we were co-conspirators. “You know,” I said, “I could look at the body. I’m really good at investigating things.”

The officer’s eyes snapped to mine, sharp and suspicious. For a second, I thought he might laugh. But he didn’t. He just stared, like he was trying to peel back my skin and see what was really underneath.

“Miss Alayna,” he said slowly, “this isn’t some television drama. No journalist is getting near that body. It’s evidence, and it stays locked under our care.”

I forced a small, nervous laugh, tapping my pen against my notebook. “Right. Of course. Just thought… maybe an extra pair of eyes could help.”

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Or maybe you just want to see for yourself what kind of monster we’re dealing with.”

I shifted in my chair, twirling my pen like I was just casually curious. “Okay, fine. Not the body. What about the crime scene? I could look at it, get a sense of what happened. Journalists do that all the time.”

The officer let out a short, humorless laugh. “The crime scene is sealed. Tape, patrol, the whole deal. No one gets in without clearance.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “And you, Miss Alayna, don’t have clearance.”

I tilted my head, giving him my best but-I’m-just-trying-to-help smile. “But you could get me in.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment I thought he might throw me out right then and there. Instead, he exhaled sharply, like he was trying to decide if I was ambitious… or insane.

“Stay in your lane, journalist,” he said finally. “The last thing I need is another civilian messing with my case.”

I bit back the smirk threatening to break free. If only he knew—I wasn’t here to mess with his case. I was his case.

I rose from the chair, tucking my notebook under my arm. At the doorway, I glanced back at him, letting a small smile curl on my lips.

“You might want my help with this case later on, Mr. Officer,” I said lightly, like it was just a passing thought.

His brow furrowed, the suspicion clear in his eyes. Before he could fire back, I turned on my heel and started walking away, the sound of my boots clicking against the station floor.

I didn’t need his permission. One way or another, I’d make sure this story stayed mine.

I’d just made it halfway down the hall when his voice called after me.

“Miss Alayna—wait!”

I paused, glancing over my shoulder. He was standing in the doorway now, one hand resting on the frame, his expression softer than before.

“You’re… bold,” he said, almost grudgingly. “Not many reporters walk in here talking like that.” He hesitated, then cleared his throat. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I will need your help later on.”

I arched a brow, curious where this was going.

“Give me your number,” he said finally. “So I can reach you if anything comes up.”

I let a slow smile spread across my face, pulling out a slip of paper. “Sure thing, officer.” I scribbled my digits and handed it over, brushing his fingers just long enough to make him blink.

Then I turned and walked out, my smile widening.