The rain had eased into a steady drizzle by the time the group worked up the nerve to follow the muddy footprints. The farmhouse was eerily quiet, the sound of their breathing louder than the faint creaks of the old wood beneath their feet.
The basement door stood slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness yawning from the opening.
“Maybe we don’t have to check,” Anshika said, lingering at the back of the group. “We could just… stay upstairs, together, in the light?”
“Let’s just get this over with,” Misty snapped, gripping the flashlight tightly. She pushed the door open, the hinges groaning as if in protest.
The Basement
The air grew colder as they descended the rickety stairs, the musty smell of damp earth thickening with each step. The beams of their flashlights cut through the dark, illuminating stacks of forgotten furniture and broken crates.
“Why would anyone come down here?” Apoorva whispered.
“Maybe they didn’t,” Shreya said. “Maybe it’s just… old footprints or something.”
Manasvi shook her head. “No, these are fresh.” She gestured to the muddy smudges leading deeper into the basement, stopping at a door that had been partially blocked by an overturned table.
Misty moved to clear the table, but Anshika grabbed her arm. “Are you insane? What if someone’s in there?”
“Then we’ll know,” Misty replied curtly, shaking her off.
The group held their breath as Misty swung the door open. The room beyond was small, more like a storage closet. It was empty except for a stack of yellowed newspapers and a rusty metal box in the corner.
“Nothing,” Shreya said, exhaling sharply. “Can we go now?”
But Misty ignored her. She crouched by the box, brushing off a layer of dust before prying it open. Inside were old papers, receipts, and a photograph.
She held up the photo, her brow furrowing. “It’s Ratna,” she said softly.
The picture showed Ratna standing by the sugarcane fields, her face turned toward the camera in mid-laugh. But it wasn’t the image that made Misty’s stomach drop—it was the red “X” scrawled across her face in pen.
“Someone hated her,” Manasvi whispered, her voice trembling.
“Or someone wanted us to think they did,” Shreya said, her tone hard.
The group’s flashlights flickered simultaneously, plunging them into near-darkness for a split second. When the light stabilized, the sound of footsteps echoed above them.
They froze.
“Did anyone stay upstairs?” Apoorva asked, her voice barely audible.
“No,” Misty whispered.
The Missing Piece
Back in the living room, the group reconvened, shaken but determined to piece together what they knew.
“Let’s just say it,” Shreya began. “If someone’s in this house, it’s either a stranger, or it’s one of us.”
“Are you serious?” Anshika shot back, incredulous. “You think one of us is doing this?”
“You’re right,” Shreya said dryly. “Because it’s far more likely that some random psychopath decided to crash our reunion in the middle of nowhere.”
“Stop,” Misty said firmly. “Pointing fingers isn’t going to help us. We need to focus on Ratna—on what really happened that night.”
A tense silence settled over them. Finally, Manasvi spoke, her voice hesitant.
“I… I saw her arguing with someone,” she admitted.
Everyone turned to look at her.
“The night she died,” Manasvi continued. “I couldn’t see who it was—they were in the fields, and it was dark—but Ratna was yelling. She said something about knowing the truth, and then she stormed off.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Misty demanded.
“I was scared,” Manasvi said, tears welling in her eyes. “I didn’t want anyone to think I had something to do with it.”
Shreya leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “What kind of truth? Did she say anything else?”
Manasvi shook her head, sobbing quietly. Apoorva reached over and placed a hand on her arm. “It’s okay,” she murmured.
“Is it?” Shreya said coldly. “Because now we know Ratna was threatening someone that night—and we’re all here except her.”
Officer Devesh’s Insight
Officer Devesh returned the next morning, his usual smirk replaced by a grim expression. He surveyed the group, now visibly on edge, before speaking.
“Well,” he said, pulling up a chair. “Looks like your little reunion is going about as well as I expected.”
“No one asked you to come,” Misty snapped.
Devesh raised an eyebrow. “No need to get defensive. I just thought you might want to know something interesting.”
“Which is?” Shreya prompted, her patience thinning.
“We took another look at Ratna’s injuries,” Devesh said. “She had defensive wounds—scratches on her hands, dirt under her nails. She fought back. That’s not new. But the kicker is, she had DNA under her nails. And guess what?”
He paused, his gaze sweeping the room. “It didn’t match anyone in our database.”
“So… what does that mean?” Anshika asked.
“It means,” Devesh said, leaning back, “either Ratna scratched someone who isn’t here… or someone here is really good at covering their tracks.”
The group exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of his words settling over them like a shroud.
“Well,” Devesh said, standing. “I’ll leave you to figure that out. Try not to kill each other before I get back.”
Cliffhanger
That night, as the group prepared for bed, Apoorva lingered by the kitchen window, staring out at the sugarcane fields.
“What are you looking at?” Misty asked, joining her.
Apoorva didn’t answer at first. Finally, she said, “Do you think someone’s still out there? Watching?”
Misty frowned. “No. Why would you say that?”
Apoorva hesitated, then whispered, “Because I saw them.”
Misty’s blood ran cold. “Saw who?”
Apoorva turned to face her, tears glinting in her eyes. “The person Ratna was arguing with.”
Before Misty could respond, a loud crash came from upstairs.
The group rushed to investigate, their flashlights bouncing off the walls. They found Manasvi in Ratna’s old room, trembling as she pointed to the broken window.
“They were here,” she stammered. “I swear—they were here.”
The chapter ends with the group staring out at the sugarcane fields, where a faint figure seems to vanish into the mist.