Page 83 of Whispers in the Dark
The nurse obeyed slowly, settling in like this was just another shift. The inmate slouched in the chair, eyes darting between them like he was waiting to be struck.
Brad pointed at the nurse first. “What did Ward say the night before he died?”
She hesitated. Her gaze flicked toward the guards, then to Dr. Fields standing quietly in the back, unreadable.
“He was rambling,” the nurse said. “Kept muttering about someone in the dark. Said, ‘He’s here already. He’s waiting.’ Over and over.”
Alex leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Did he say who?”
She shook her head nervously. “No name. Just… ‘Rook.’ Said it like a warning. Like he knew he was already dead.”
Alex felt that word land again—Rook—and the sense of something closing in ticked louder in his head.
Brad turned to the inmate. “What about you?”
The guy licked his lips, twitching a little in his seat. He didn’t look scared—just nervous, calculating. “Man talked in circles most nights. But when he was clear?” The inmate whistled low. “Scary clear. Said his kid was out there. Said he’d come back to ‘reset the balance.’ I figured he was doped out, but he meant it.”
“Did he ever mention Charlotte Everhart?” Brad asked.
That made the inmate pause. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t know if it was Everhart,” he said slowly. “But he talked about a woman. A Charlotte. Said she was the only one left who’d understand.”
Brad stiffened. Alex felt it too, like a wire pulled tight in his chest. “Understand what?” he asked, voice sharper than intended.
The inmate hesitated, then leaned forward, voice lower. “The loss. Said she carried it like he did. That she was the only one he could still trust.”
The room was dead quiet. Brad stepped back slightly, working through it.
Alex froze. She was the only one left who’d understand. That wasn’t something you guessed. That wasn’t vague paranoia. That was specific.
“He trusted her,” Alex said, almost to himself. The pieces were snapping into place—hard, fast, unforgiving. “He believed they shared something. Loss. Grief.” He looked up. “But Chuck, Charlotte’s husband, he didn’t die until four years after Gideon was already locked up.”
Brad turned toward him. “You’re sure?”
Alex nodded slowly. “She told me. She gave birth to Izzy after the trial. Had Ruth two years later. Ruth was two when Chuck died. That’s four years after Ward was already in here.” He sat back, blood running cold. “He couldn’t have known about Chuck unless someone told him.”
The silence sharpened.
“Or…” Alex said, the word catching in his throat, “…Charlotte came to see him.”
Brad’s expression shifted. Tightened. “She never said anything.”
“No, she wouldn’t.” Alex glanced toward the door Dr. Fields had stepped out of. “But that kind of grief, Ward saw it in her. Which means he saw her. In person.”
Brad was already thinking ahead. “If she visited him, it wasn’t a coincidence. It was a decision. Pull the prison logs.”
Alex nodded, his voice low. “That bond he talked about. Th at wasn’t imagined. He knew something real about her. Something private. Personal.”
Brad’s jaw clenched. “Which means, if Elias is watching her now…”
Alex finished it, heart thudding, “It might not be as a threat.”
Brad stared at him. “It might be as family.”
The air in the room changed. The threat shifted.
Brad’s face hardened. “Either way, she’s at the center of this. We need to get to her. Before he does something none of us can take back.”
Alex didn’t answer. He was already moving.
