Stalked by a shadow figure and haunted with nightmares that seem real, Sarah Fraser has been sentenced to life in a mental institute for the murder of her two best friends. When the figure begins to invade her every thought, the lines between what's real and what's not begin to merge, causing her to fear for her life....


5. 4.

Carrie had been working the Macarthy case now for just over twenty four hours, it felt longer. Paul had agreed to come round her house so they could continue the investigation somewhere other than the office, as beautiful as it looked on the outside, grim murders, death and more death were all hidden away in there and you didn't even have to look very far to find them. Yes, this was more comfortable and felt safer somehow.

Carrie had just come out from the bathroom when the front door swung open, Paul had been given a key at the start of the Sarah Fraser case as both detectives would spend most of their time working here, going through files and following any potential leads. "Where have you been? i thought you'd got lost or something," she teased. Paul closed the door behind him, " girl please, how long have we been working in here? as if i would get lost, besides i stopped off at the supermarket to get this!", he held up a bottle of cheap wine and grinned. Carrie smiled back at him, "i'll get the glasses". The hours spent flicking through file after file of dead ends and possible leads, that then became dead ends minutes later was relentless. One day earlier, both detectives had spent the afternoon at the scene of Helena's death, her bedroom where she had seemingly hung herself and found no clues that would suggest otherwise. The only thing Carrie had seen to arouse suspicion, was the victims eyes were wide open, as if petrified. She had seen many hangings in her time in the FBI and not one of the deceaseds eyes were open after death had occured. Paul had written this off as anything substantial and Carrie didn't blame him given how little they had to go on.

"I'm finding this one a little hard to understand", Carrie removed her reading glasses and placed them onto what seemed like a mountain of paperwork and case files. "Me and you both, she was scared of something i get that but there was no one else there with her. Maybe it really was a suicide?", Paul's wine had went down with ease and as he spoke he couldn't help but admire how beautiful his partner looked at home, her features seemed less stern and more relaxed but maybe the alcohol was doing the thinking for him now, he thought. " Hmm, maybe but i just can't get that phone call out of my head, that scream Paul, she was terrified of something i just don't know what".  The drink had done it's job and after several more hours of mulling over the details, sleep had claimed them both where they sat surrounded by files and paper. Both phones rang simultaneously, meaning whatever it was, it was important. Carrie's head was fit to burst, she had a ridiculously dry tongue and now this damn phone was ringing so loudly she thought she might just scream. Paul didn't look too fresh neither as he sat up to find his phone amongst the mountain of work. It was the captain at the FBI HQ and the time of six in the morning hadn't gone unnoticed neither, they looked at one another then seperated themselves into different rooms in the house to answer the calls. A few minutes later they both re-entered. "Well, i didn't expect that", Paul said, staring at Carrie for confirmation they had recieved the same call. "No, me niether, let's go, i'll drive", Carrie confirmed, convincing herself she was able to drive without vomiting everywhere. And with that they both took their badges and guns and set off for the latest crime scene, at West Lodge Psychiatric House.

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