The Midnight Call

The phone rang at midnight, its shrill tone slicing through the silence of the small-town police station. Officer Sarah Bennett reached for the receiver, already knowing who it would be.

“Sarah,” a familiar voice breathed on the other end. It was Patrick O’Leary, the town drunk. “I did something… something bad.”

“Patrick,” Sarah sighed, glancing at the clock. “What happened?”

“I didn’t mean to, I swear! I just wanted to scare him, but—”

“Slow down,” Sarah interrupted, her heart beginning to race. “Where are you?”

“At the old mill,” he whispered. “He’s still here… he’s not moving, Sarah.”

Sarah grabbed her keys. “Stay there. I’m coming.”

When she arrived at the mill, the night air was thick with the smell of wet earth and something else—something metallic. Patrick stood near the entrance, his hands trembling.

“Where is he?” Sarah asked.

Patrick pointed inside. “By the machines.”

Sarah entered cautiously, her flashlight cutting through the darkness. She found the man, crumpled against the rusted gears, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.

Patrick appeared in the doorway, his face pale. “I didn’t mean to, Sarah.”

She looked back at him, her expression hardened. “Intent doesn’t change the fact that he’s dead. Call it in.”

Patrick’s eyes filled with tears. “What’s going to happen to me?”

Sarah sighed. “You know the drill, Patrick. Hands behind your back.”