The sound of heavy boots drew closer until someone crouched in front of him, seized his jaw, and forced water down his throat. The sudden flood triggered his gag reflex, sending liquid spilling from his mouth.
“Ease up!” warned a voice nearby.
“Why waste the effort? If he chokes, then he’s finished—save us the trouble!”
“Eric!”
Hadley shot upright in the middle of the night, her body slick with cold sweat.
Her lips parted as she struggled to draw air into her lungs. The nightmare still clung to her—Eric sprawled across wet concrete, lifeless, while she stood frozen, powerless to help.
The terror wrenched her fully awake.
With shaking hands, Hadley pressed her forehead, tears streaming unchecked.
Nearly two full days had passed since he vanished. Every hour that slipped by only worsened the chances of bringing him back alive.
“Eric…” She cupped her face, her voice breaking as she whispered into the silence.
“Please… don’t let this be the end for you…”
When dawn broke, Ellis’ call came through.
“Miss Pearson, I’m sending over a photo. I need you to confirm if it belongs to Mr. Scott.”
“Alright!” Hadley’s voice tightened as she hung up, and within seconds the image arrived on her phone.
She tapped open the photo.
Recognition struck instantly.
The staring back at her was something she knew by heart—a whistle she had once carved from a peach pit, strung on a red cord. Eric never went anywhere without it.
Her fingers flew over the screen as she called Ellis back.
“It’s his! I’m certain! Where did you find it? Did you find him?”
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“Not yet,” came Ellis’ reply, his tone flat with apology.
“This is really important. I’ll need you to come over to the station and confirm it in person.”
“I’ll come right away!” Hadley answered.
“I’ll be waiting. Goodbye.”
“Alright.”
The call ended, and Hadley immediately rang Ernest. She told him about the whistle carved from the peach pit.
“Don’t worry, Ernest. I’ll head to the station myself,” she added.
“Alright.”
After the brief call, Hadley gathered Xander and Theodore, and the three of them set out for the police station.
During the past few days, both the Flynn and Scott families had pressed the authorities relentlessly—not only with words, but through concrete support.
The Srixby police department had worked day and night, and the Flynn and Scott families made sure the officers never lacked food or energy drinks whenever they had a minute to rest.
Upon her arrival, Hadley learned a meeting was underway. She was directed to the guest room on the first floor to wait.
A light rapping sounded on the meeting room door.
.
.
.