The Ridgecliff skies were still hazy when Robert Kühl entered the station, a coffee mug in one hand, his badge glinting faintly beneath the fluorescent lights. The morning was just beginning to settle into its usual rhythm when his phone vibrated in his coat pocket.
He glanced at the screen—Brendon Wolf.
After yesterday's tense phone call, Robert hadn't expected Brendon to reach out again so soon. He stepped into his office, shut the door quietly, and sat behind his cluttered desk as he opened the message:
Brendon:
"Hey! Sorry for yesterday that I cut you off, but now I really need your help. I'm sending you a number. Please confirm if its current location is anywhere near Duckinghum Caves in Lagooncrest Isle. If yes, let me know. That means the owner of this number is in danger."
Robert blinked. Duckinghum Caves? His brows furrowed as he quickly responded:
Robert:
"Apology accepted. But why asking me? You can directly ask Sofie, right?"
Brendon:
"Yeah, I can. But they still think I'm on vacation. If I ask now, Chief Tyson might start sniffing around and question my motives. So you ask her. Make it look casual."
Robert:
"How am I supposed to do that?"
Brendon:
"You're smart, man. I trust you'll figure it out."
Robert sighed and rubbed his temples.
Robert:
"Alright. Let's see what I can do."
Brendon:
"Oh—one more thing. Please try to dig up some intel on Duckinghum Caves too. Anything that stands out."
The message thread ended there. Robert stared at the number Brendon had forwarded. A chill crept up his spine. Something wasn't right—and whatever it was, Brendon clearly thought it was serious enough to break radio silence.
---
Later That Morning – Ridgecliff Police Department, Tech Division
Robert walked into the tech department with the usual confidence of an Assistant Sheriff, but this time he wore a veil of careful subtlety. Sofie, a young analyst with a mind as sharp as her sarcasm, was hunched over her station, headphones in, lost in the digital world.
"Hey, Sof," Robert Kühl called, knocking gently on the edge of her desk.
The tech room was alive with soft hums and beeping machines. Sofie looked up from her triple-monitor setup, a brow cocked beneath the purple-dyed streak in her hair. She tugged one headphone down and offered a lazy smirk.
"What brings the sheriff's right hand to the Matrix today?"
Robert chuckled, sliding his coffee mug aside. "Need a quick favor. Shouldn't take more than five minutes."
Sofie leaned back in her chair, skeptical. "Five-minute favors from cops usually mean thirty-minute favors and lots of red tape."
He raised both hands in mock surrender. "I swear, nothing official. Just a personal ask."
She eyed him carefully, then nodded toward the seat beside her. "Alright. Shoot."
Robert lowered himself into the chair and handed her a slip of paper with a phone number scribbled across it.
"Can you trace this number? I need to know where the phone last pinged. Brendon's looking into something for a friend of his. He asked me to run it discreetly."
Sofie narrowed her eyes, suddenly attentive. "Why isn't he doing it himself? He's got the clearance."
Robert gave a half-shrug, carefully choosing his words. "He's on vacation, remember? Doesn't want to throw up any red flags. Chief Tyson's been extra twitchy lately about out-of-jurisdiction involvement."
"Hmm," Sofie grunted, her fingers already tapping at her keyboard. "You mean twitchy like your buddy disappearing last year to take on an illegal weapons ring on his own and almost getting himself killed kind of twitchy?"
Robert offered a strained smile. "Yeah… that kind of twitchy."
She rolled her eyes. "Fine. But if this turns into some interdepartmental mess, I'm blaming both of you."
"It won't," Robert promised, though his voice was less certain than he'd have liked.
The hum of her system intensified as she punched in the number and ran it through multiple cross-databases. Robert watched the flickering screens, heart thudding faintly as her software triangulated the signal. Within seconds, a map snapped into place. A red pin blinked faintly on the digital map, its label reading:
ZOE FARROW – LAST PING: 17 MINUTES AGO
Sofie leaned in, analyzing the coordinates. "Phone's registered to a local. Zoe Farrow. Last known location is somewhere in a wooded region northeast of the main town on Lagooncrest Isle. Not exactly Duckinghum Caves, but it's on the same grid. Dense forest. Low signal."
Robert stiffened. "Zoe… Brendon's staying with her. Her brother Carlos is the one who disappeared. He must've told her everything."
Sofie raised an eyebrow. "Well, maybe she went looking for him. Got herself lost."
Robert's brow furrowed. That didn't sound like Zoe. From the little Brendon had told him, Zoe was determined but cautious. She wouldn't just head into the woods alone—unless she found something worth chasing.
"Can you dig into that area?" he asked. "Duckinghum Caves. Anything strange in the local archives? Something that hasn't made it into travel brochures?"
Sofie exhaled a long, slow breath. "You're pulling the curtain back on the weird, huh? Alright. Let's see what's behind it."
Her fingers flew across the keys, the monitor lighting up as she sifted through public records, old newspapers, message boards, and local lore sites. Most entries were predictable—hiking blogs, cave explorers sharing selfies, urban legends posted by teens.
Then her scrolling slowed.
"Whoa," she murmured.
Robert leaned forward. "What is it?"
Sofie opened a grainy black-and-white article, its headline yellowed like parchment:
"Ritual or Crime? Cult Activity Suspected in Disappearance of 11 Children – 30 Years Later, No Answers"
She read aloud, piecing it together as she scanned. "Thirty years ago, a group calling themselves 'The Children of Sorrow' operated near the Duckinghum Caves. Claimed to worship an entity they called 'Malhera'. Real freaky stuff. Apparently, they believed they could achieve immortality through sacrifice. Locals accused them of child trafficking, but when the police raided their grounds, no arrests were made. They vanished. Just like that."
Robert's expression darkened, the name The Shadow Below lingering like ash in the air.
She continued. "After that, the island just... hushed it all up. No media, no coverage. Most people forgot. Until now."
"You're saying Brendon might've stumbled into something like that again?" Robert asked, his voice tight.
Sofie tilted her head, amused by his choice of words. "'Again'?"
Robert clammed up instantly. "Nothing. Just… Brendon's got a talent for finding trouble where no one else sees it."
Sofie snorted. "That's one way to describe it. Guy makes more noise on vacation than I do on full shifts."
She saved the article to a flash drive and looked up, her demeanor shifting slightly—more thoughtful now.
"Hey, Rob…" she said slowly, "Wasn't Amelia headed to Lagooncrest before she vanished?"
Robert's breath hitched. A storm seemed to move through his chest as the name hit him.
Amelia Hudson. Young. Promising. Spirited. She'd planned a peaceful trip to Lagooncrest Isle with her friends. Just a break from the stress of med school applications, she'd told her mother.
Though she came back, she was not herself anymore. And now missing.
Her last online activity was a picture she'd posted online—her standing near a rocky entrance that looked a lot like the caves Sofie had just shown him.
Robert swallowed hard. "Yeah. She was."
Sofie leaned back, her eyes narrowing. "And now Zoe Farrow's missing. Near the same caves. With Brendon playing detective during his 'vacation.' That's some coincidence."
Robert nodded, but it wasn't a casual gesture. His mind spun, connecting dots that had been buried for years. If these caves were connected to something old—something dark—it wasn't just about Carlos anymore. It never was.
Whatever Brendon had uncovered, it had roots—roots long and deep, running back decades.
Sofie's voice pierced the tension. "You think this cult is still active?"
"I don't know," Robert said. "But if they are… they've been hiding in plain sight for a long time."
He stood, taking the flash drive from her. "Thanks, Sof. I owe you."
"You owe me ten," she replied dryly. "And dinner next week."
He managed a tight smile. "Done."
As he walked out of the tech room, the weight of everything fell heavy on his shoulders. Brendon was in danger—so was Zoe. And if history was repeating itself, then this time, Robert swore it wouldn't end in another cold case.
He opened his phone and sent a final message to Brendon:
Robert:
"Got the article. Got the location. Whatever you're digging into... be careful. And bring her back."
He hesitated, then whispered to himself:
"Sorry, buddy… but I can't keep this truth buried much longer."
---
Meanwhile – Lagooncrest Isle
Brendon sat on the edge of a weathered bench near the coastline, watching as waves lapped gently against the shore. His phone buzzed.
It was a message from Sofie.
Sofie:
"I don't know what you're up with this number, but it better not drag me into some trouble."
Attached was a location pin and a PDF of the article about the cult.
Brendon's jaw tightened. His fingers trembled slightly as he downloaded the file and began reading. The pattern was undeniable now: young adults vanishing days after their 18th birthday, most having last visited Duckinghum Caves. The cult, the folklore... it wasn't superstition anymore. It was ritual.
And now Zoe might be next.
He opened the map app, zooming in on the location Sofie sent. Zoe's phone had pinged deep in the woods—too close to the Caves for comfort.
He stood up.
There was no time to waste.