The diner's neon sign flickered—Mel's, Open 24/7—casting pink shadows across Emma's face as she pushed through the glass door. 3:47 AM. The same time she'd arrived every Thursday for the past six weeks, always to the same booth, always ordering black coffee she never drank.
"You're late," the man in the opposite booth said without looking up from his newspaper.
Emma slid into her seat. "Traffic."
"At four in the morning?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she placed a manila envelope on the table between them, her fingers trembling slightly as she withdrew her hand.
The man—she still didn't know his real name, only that he went by "Sterling"—folded his newspaper with deliberate precision. "You found it?"
"I found something."
His eyes narrowed. "That's not what we agreed on."
"I found what was there to find." Emma leaned forward, lowering her voice. "The storage unit was empty except for one thing. A photograph. Three people I don't recognize, standing in front of a house that doesn't exist anymore."
"Doesn't exist?"
"Burned down. Thirty years ago. Everyone inside died."
Sterling's hand moved toward the envelope but stopped halfway. "Everyone?"
"That's what the records say." Emma pulled out her phone, showed him a scanned newspaper clipping. "Fire department ruled it accidental. Case closed."
"Then why are you here?"
She turned the phone, zoomed in on the photo's background. A face in an upstairs window, partially obscured by curtains. "Because somebody survived. And I think they're the one who's been watching me."
The diner's door chimed. A woman entered, shaking rain from her umbrella. She glanced at Emma's booth, held eye contact for exactly three seconds, then sat at the counter.
Sterling's jaw tightened. "We're leaving. Now."
"Who is she?"
"Someone who shouldn't be alive."
#serialfiction #mystery #thriller #cliffhanger