Chapter 4 - The Black SUV
The colorful woman pulled me behind the abandoned station building just as the black SUV stopped beside the empty platform.
Its headlights remained on.
No one stepped out.
The engine idled with a low, steady growl that seemed much too loud in the silence.
“Who are they?” I whispered.
She pressed one finger against her lips.
Through a crack in the wooden wall, I saw the driver’s door open.
A tall man in a dark coat climbed out.
He was not my husband.
But I recognized him.
He had been at my parents’ house two days earlier.
He had stood near the garden gate while my husband repaired the broken hinge. At the time, I assumed he was a neighbor. He had smiled politely, exchanged a few words with my father, then walked away.
Now he moved like someone searching for prey.
He checked the platform, the bench, and the locked ticket office.
Then he took out his phone.
“She got off,” he said. “The conductor confirmed it.”
My legs nearly collapsed.
The woman caught my arm.
The man listened for several seconds before answering.
“No. She isn’t alone.”
His head slowly turned toward the station building.
For one terrible moment, I thought he could see us through the wall.
The woman guided me toward a narrow path behind the station.
“We must reach the old signal house,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“Because this place was not chosen randomly.”
We ran into the darkness.
Branches tore at my coat while gravel shifted beneath my shoes. Behind us, a car door slammed.
The man had seen movement.
His footsteps followed.
I wanted to scream, but the woman dragged me faster.
At the end of the path stood a tiny brick building beside the tracks. Its windows were boarded, and a rusted metal ladder climbed to the roof.
The woman pushed open the door with a key hidden beneath her necklace.
Inside, dusty railway equipment covered the walls.
An old telephone sat on a wooden table.
To my shock, it began ringing.
The sound echoed through the room.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
“Don’t answer,” she said.
But the ringing continued.
Then the ancient machine clicked by itself.
My husband’s voice emerged through the receiver.
Calm.
Gentle.
Almost loving.
“I know you’re listening,” he said.
“Please come back.”
A pause followed.
Then his voice changed.
“You have no idea what that woman has done.”
The colorful woman went completely still.
My husband continued.
“And before you trust her, ask her what happened to your first husband.”
I turned toward her.
Her face had lost all color.
May you like
Outside, footsteps stopped directly in front of the door.
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