The storm outside raged with relentless fury, matching the turmoil in the hearts of Emily, Mindy, and Camille as they tried to make sense of the nightmare they were living through. The kitchen was filled with the quiet hum of breakfast preparation, the clatter of dishes and the sizzle of eggs on the stove providing a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos. But the atmosphere was heavy, weighted by the grief and fear that clung to them like a dark cloud.
Emily stood by the stove, absentmindedly stirring a pan of scrambled eggs, her thoughts consumed by the events of the previous night. Across the kitchen, Mindy was busying herself with making coffee, but her movements were mechanical, her mind clearly elsewhere. The occasional rumble of thunder shook the apartment, making them both jump, a reminder of the storm outside and the storm that was brewing in their lives.
In the living room, Camille sat on the edge of the couch, staring out the window at the rain-soaked streets of Paris. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, and tears still traced silent paths down her cheeks. She hadn't spoken much since they had returned from the gallery, her grief over Sofia's death almost too overwhelming to bear. The sight of her friend's lifeless body, the blood, the note from Doug—it was all too much.
Emily glanced over at Camille, her heart breaking for her friend. She put down the spatula and wiped her hands on a dish towel before walking over to the living room. "Camille," she said gently, sitting down beside her, "do you want something to eat? I made breakfast."
Camille shook her head, not taking her eyes off the rain. "No," she whispered, her voice thick with sorrow. "I'm not hungry."
Emily hesitated, then tried again. "How about some orange juice? It might help a little."
But again, Camille shook her head. "No, thank you, Emily."
Emily felt a pang of helplessness. She wanted to do something—anything—to take away Camille's pain, but she knew there was nothing that could make this better. Sofia was gone, and Doug was still out there, playing his twisted games. She reached out and placed a comforting hand on Camille's shoulder.
"I just… I can't believe she's gone," Camille choked out, finally tearing her gaze away from the window. "Sofia didn't deserve this. None of us do." Her voice trembled, and she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "If Doug even thinks about putting his hands on any of you—on you, Mindy, Gabriel—I swear it's over for him. I'll make sure of it."
Emily's breath hitched at Camille's words, and she exchanged a worried glance with Mindy, who had walked over to join them. They both knew Camille was serious. She was angry, grief-stricken, and ready to do whatever it took to protect the people she loved. But they also knew how dangerous Doug was, and the thought of confronting him sent a chill down Emily's spine.
"Camille," Mindy said softly, sitting on the other side of her and taking her hand. "We'll get through this together, okay? We'll find a way to stop Doug, but we have to be smart about it. We can't let him win."
Camille nodded, her resolve hardening, but the fear in her eyes was still evident. "I just don't know what to do anymore," she admitted. "Every time we think we're getting closer to finding out who he is, he's one step ahead of us."
Emily was about to say something when a sudden knock on the door startled them all. The three women exchanged a tense look before Emily cautiously got up to answer it. She peered through the peephole and let out a relieved sigh when she saw who it was.
"It's Gabriel," she said, opening the door to let him in.
Gabriel stepped inside, shaking off the rain from his coat. But as soon as he saw Camille's tear-streaked face, his expression turned somber. "Camille, I'm so sorry," he said, his voice filled with genuine concern. "I heard what happened to Sofia. I can't even imagine…"
Camille stood up and wrapped her arms around him, and for a moment, they just held each other, finding some small comfort in the embrace.
Gabriel pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. "I've been asking around about those guys you mentioned—Derek and Ross—but so far, nothing. It's like they don't exist. No one I've talked to knows anything about them."
Camille sighed, wiping her eyes again. "That's what I found too," she said, her voice trembling. "I tried looking them up, calling people, but there's nothing. It's like they're ghosts."
The frustration in the room was palpable, but before they could discuss it further, Emily's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, frowning when she saw the caller ID: Antoine Lambert.
"Antoine?" Emily answered, her voice tinged with confusion.
"Emily," Antoine's voice came through the line, sounding more serious than she had ever heard him. "There's something you need to know. A police officer named Mark was just rushed to the Perrotin Gallery with other officers. They've connected him to a photo evidence… and it's something disturbing that you have to see."
Emily's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean, 'disturbing'? What's going on?"
"I'm sending you the photo now," Antoine replied. "But be warned, it's not clear. There's a police officer in the picture who looks like Doug… but he's in disguise. A mustache, a police uniform… but it's blurry. You might not be able to see it clearly."
Emily's blood ran cold. "A police officer who looks like Doug? Are you sure?"
"I'm not, and neither are the police," Antoine admitted. "But they think it's worth investigating. They're looking into it right now, but I thought you should know. Stay safe, Emily."
The call ended, and Emily felt her hand tremble as she looked at the phone. Moments later, the photo Antoine had mentioned appeared on her screen. She stared at it, her heart pounding in her chest. It was blurry, just as he had said, but there was definitely something unsettling about the image. One of the police officers, standing near the crime scene, had a familiar look—a man with a mustache, wearing a uniform. But his face was just out of focus enough to leave a lingering doubt.
Mindy and Camille noticed Emily's reaction and rushed to her side. "What is it?" Mindy asked, her voice filled with concern.
Emily showed them the photo. "Antoine just sent me this. He said the police are looking into it, but… this officer… doesn't he look like Doug?"
Gabriel leaned in, squinting at the screen. "It's hard to tell… but it's possible," he said, his voice heavy with suspicion. "Why would Doug be disguised as a cop? What is he trying to do?"
Camille, still shaken from her earlier grief, stared at the photo with wide eyes. "If that's him… then he's closer than we thought. He's right there, at the crime scene. He's toying with us, Emily. He's everywhere."
Emily swallowed hard, fear gripping her heart. "Antoine mentioned a police officer named Mark. Do any of you know him? Could it be Doug?"
Mindy shook her head. "I don't know any officer named Mark. But if Doug is posing as a cop, then we're in more danger than we realized. He could be anywhere, watching us."
The storm outside seemed to intensify, the wind howling through the windows as the rain pounded against the glass. Inside the apartment, the four of them stood together, the weight of their situation pressing down on them. They were being hunted, and Doug's sick game was only escalating.
"What do we do now?" Camille asked, her voice trembling.
"We have to be careful," Gabriel said, his tone firm. "We can't trust anyone, not even the police, until we know for sure who Doug is and what he's planning. But we're not going to let him win. We'll find a way to stop him."
Emily nodded, trying to steady her breathing. "We have to stay strong," she agreed. "For Sofia… and for each other. We can't let Doug destroy us."
As they stood there, the storm raging outside, the gravity of their situation settled over them like a dark shroud. They were in a battle for their lives, and the only way out was to uncover the truth about Doug and bring him to justice. But with every step they took, the danger grew closer, and the line between friend and foe blurred.