Chapter 43: She Wants to Help Me Lure Out the Murderer

Chapter 43: Chapter 43: She Wants to Help Me Lure Out the Murderer

But back when she claimed a serial killer was after her, she made Cecilia Caldwell go and lure him out in her place.

Erin Whittaker was selfish. Everyone could see it clearly—everyone except Julian Fletcher.

Zeke Shaw gave Julian Fletcher a meaningful look. ’Is he really that stupid? Or is there something else going on?’

"I’m sorry... I, I don’t have any red dresses anymore," Erin Whittaker stammered, adamantly refusing.

She just didn’t want the police to find anything.

Julian Fletcher froze. "But..."

There was still one more—the one Erin had said she loved, the one he had bought for her.

"That... that one got ruined in the wash. The colors bled in the machine, so I threw it out," Erin Whittaker stuttered.

Julian Fletcher said nothing more.

Madeline Quinn’s eyes were already red with anger. She confronted Julian Fletcher. "Tell me the brand and style. I’ll go buy it."

Julian Fletcher was silent for a long moment before he spoke. "It’s from LY’s new fall collection. The only long red dress of that style."

Hearing Julian Fletcher’s words, my heart still ached. When I was eighteen, he had asked what I wanted for a gift. I’d told him, "Why don’t you get me a dress? I love LY’s designs."

He’d promised he would.

But every year after that, the dresses he bought were never for me.

Madeline Quinn shot Julian Fletcher a look, not bothering to say anything more.

’He’d better not regret this.’

Zeke Shaw followed Madeline Quinn out, his brow furrowed. "There’s something wrong with this Erin Whittaker."

"Officer Shaw, can we do this as soon as possible?" Madeline Quinn couldn’t hold herself together once they were in the elevator.

"Please, let me try... I can’t bear to imagine what Cece is going through right now. I’m begging you."

Zeke Shaw took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright. I’ll go with you to buy the dress. Then you’ll leave from this hotel, disguised as Erin Whittaker. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you."

Madeline Quinn nodded, her hands clenched into fists. "I’m going to make sure we catch that killer."

’Zeke Shaw, you have to protect her,’ I chanted over and over, knowing full well he couldn’t hear me. ’You have to protect her.’

That evening, Madeline Quinn put on a dress identical to Erin Whittaker’s, straightened her long hair, and left the hotel wearing a face mask.

I was worried, so I followed close behind.

I was terrified she would run into danger.

Madeline Quinn went to a bar first. She drank until she was tipsy, her hair disheveled.

She drank real alcohol to make the act convincing, to avoid raising suspicion.

My eyes stung with tears the whole time as I sat beside her. ’Madeline, don’t be afraid. I’m right here with you.’

’I want to be her guardian angel, to watch over her always, but there’s nothing I can do.’

The police had taken every precaution; they couldn’t risk anything happening to Madeline Quinn.

Madeline Quinn stumbled outside alone, heading back through the Street Alley outside the Nocturne bar.

CLICK. Suddenly, a faint sound came from behind her.

I nervously glanced back toward a dark corner, trembling with fear.

See? Even a ghost like me can be afraid of the human heart.

What’s truly terrifying in this world isn’t ghosts—it’s people.

’Madeline... be careful,’ I said anxiously, my eyes fixed on the darkness.

’Zeke... Zeke, where are you?’

I screamed in terror, but they couldn’t hear me.

A dark figure flashed past and ran off into the distance. The police officers hiding in the shadows all gave chase.

A strange sense of dread washed over me. ’This feels like a diversion.’

’Madeline!’ I desperately wanted to pull Madeline Quinn to her feet and run, but it was too late. A figure emerged from the shadows.

He wore a hooded sweatshirt and ill-fitting pants that exposed a scar on his ankle. He was dragging a long club in his hand.

"Don’t... Don’t come any closer!" I shrieked, stomping my feet in place out of sheer terror. ’Madeline! Run, Madeline, run!’

’He’s the killer. He’s really the killer!’

It was Asher.

"It’s not..." Asher’s voice was hoarse as he stared at Madeline, who was sitting on the ground. "It’s not her..."

He muttered to himself, his eyes bloodshot. His strikingly handsome face held a chilling coldness.