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Shit. I should’ve been recording the call, I told myself.
”Stop what?” I asked, desperately looking for my recording app. It took too long, and the voice answered me again before I could.
”You know what,” the voice said. ”If you don’t stop, I’ll fucking kill you.”
My heart raced as my mind processed the threat. This wasn't the first time I'd been threatened, but it was the first time someone had gone as far as calling me directly.
”You'll kill me?” I repeated. ”Who are you? Why are you doing this?”
There was no answer, only the sound of static on the other end of the line. I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath. This was a lead, a clue. I had to act on it. I didn't think they were going to reveal themselves, but if I could get them to slip up, then maybe I'd have something more to go on.
Or, well, anything.
”Wait,” I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts. ”Please, don't hang up. Tell me more. Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”
”I want you to stop,” the voice said, the distortion making it hard to tell if there was any emotion behind the words. ”I know you're very good at what you do, but so am I.”
A scoff. The first sign of actual human emotion. My heart raced as I paced around my apartment. ”Back off, Sofia,” the voice said. ”Or else.”
”Or else what?” I asked. I didn't need to ask. I knew what would happen if I didn't back off.
”Or else you'll end up like the others.”
The line went dead after the caller hung up. My hands trembled as I put down the phone on the dining room table, next to my laptop.
I immediately looked up the non-emergency police number. Not because I thought they were going to do anything–I really didn’t–but because I wanted something on the record.
Someone clearly cared about what I was doing. Someone was threatening me. My first instinct was to call my brother, but I knew exactly what he’d tell me to do. I needed to make sure to start a papertrail. Then I would go to him, when I was a little less upset. I didn’t want him to know how shaken I was; it would be another excuse for him to try and talk me out of pursuing this.
”Orlando Police, Precinct 11,” a pleasant voice answered. ”How can I help you tonight?”
”Hi,” I said. ”Something just happened…I got this threatening phone call.”
”Are you afraid for your safety?”
”No, not really,” I said. ”But I am taking it seriously. I think it might be more than a prank call.”
The woman on the other end of the phone asked for my name, address, and the details of the call. I told her everything.
”Thank you for the information, Ms. Reyes,” she said. ”We’ll have a patrol unit check in on you tonight. Please don’t hesitate to call us if you receive any more threats or if anything else happens.”
”Thank you,” I said, my voice shaking.
I hung up and sat down on the couch, rubbing my temples. What was this? Was it a warning, a threat, or both? How had they found out about my investigation?
I was exhausted and needed to get ready for bed, so I stood up and made my way to the bedroom.
And that's when I heard the lock click. Someone was at my door. But they weren't knocking.
They were breaking in.
My heart clenched in fear as I listened to the intruder fumbling with the lock. I quickly grabbed my phone and went to dial 911, but the door swung open, and a dark figure stood there, towering for a second before the man pounced into my apartment.
I was only vaguely aware that I threw my phone across the room when the intruder entered my apartment, his footsteps getting closer and closer.
”I told you to stop,” he snarled.
This time, his voice wasn't masked, but I still didn't recognize him.
