Ellie stared at the blinking cursor. She hadn't planned to start another podcast, not after Silent Witness imploded. But this felt different. This was personal.
She closed the laptop and reached into her backpack, pulling out a worn notebook with a cracked leather cover. Miss Whitaker's diary.
Detective Simon Granger hadn't wanted to give it to her. "You're not media anymore," he said. "You're not even a resident."
But one look at her name on the inside cover and her mother's long-standing friendship with the missing teacher had tipped the scales. He let her borrow it—on the record, unofficially.
The first entries were mundane: notes about lesson plans, gardening schedules, and bridge nights with the "Maple Ladies," a group of retirees who dressed like they were still in the '60s. But near the middle, the tone shifted.
> October 3rd
She was there again. By the old maple grove. Watching. Same yellow coat, same blank face. The trees remember her. I know it.
Ellie frowned. A woman watching from the woods?
She flipped ahead.
> October 7th
I told Father Michael what I saw. He said I was remembering things that never happened. But I do remember. That night. The fire. The silence afterward. Ellie wouldn't know. She was just a child. But she was there.
A chill ran down her spine. Fire? Silence? She remembered nothing of the kind.
Ellie closed the diary, her fingers suddenly cold. This wasn't just a disappearance.
Someone—maybe Miss Whitaker herself—was unraveling something old. Something the town had chosen to forget.
She stood up and walked to the window again. Across the street, the maple grove loomed at the edge of the old school grounds. The wind was still. The trees, bare-limbed and red-veined, stood like witnesses.
And just for a second, Ellie thought she saw a flicker of yellow deep in the trees.
A coat.
A figure.
Gone.