The rain was coming down harder now, drumming against the roof of the car.

I pulled into my apartment building’s parking garage, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I parked the car, grabbed my bag, and walked quickly to the elevator.

When I reached my door, I unlocked it and stepped into the quiet apartment.

The silence felt different now—heavy, almost suffocating.

I walked into the kitchen, set my keys on the counter, and stared at the dark screen of my phone.

A moment later, the screen lit up with an incoming text message from an unknown number.

I picked it up and tapped the notification.

It was a link to a local news website, accompanied by a short message from an unrecognized sender.

The message read: *Thought you should see this before it airs tonight.*

My thumb hovered over the link as the phone began to vibrate with an incoming call from a number I didn’t recognize.

I slid my thumb across the glass screen and put the phone to my ear.

“Elizabeth Morgan,” I said.

My voice sounded thin, even to my own ears.