The Secret Beneath
April 1, 2025
The rain hit the roof of the old car, the rhythmic tapping almost soothing in its consistency. But for Detective Rachel Harris, there was nothing soothing about tonight. The neon lights of the diner ahead flickered as she pulled up, the sign casting a faint glow across the wet pavement. She parked, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel, and looked through the window. The diner was nearly empty, the only light coming from a small bulb above the counter, illuminating an old man nursing a cup of coffee.
She stepped out, pulling her coat tightly around her as the chill of the night air wrapped around her like a cloak. Her boots clicked on the concrete, the sound amplified by the silence of the street. She was here for a reason—the case that had been haunting her for weeks.
The disappearance of Annie Doyle.
It had started as a simple missing persons case, but the more Rachel dug, the darker it became. Annie, a local college student, had vanished without a trace. No struggle, no sign of forced entry into her apartment. But it was the photograph that had been found near her last known location that had sent Rachel into a spiral. A picture of Annie—taken from behind—a reflection in a mirror showing someone standing just behind her, a shadowy figure obscured by the angle.
Rachel stepped into the diner, the bell above the door chiming softly. The old man didn’t look up as she approached the counter. She nodded at him briefly before taking a seat on one of the stools.
“I’m looking for someone,” Rachel said, her voice low, but her tone firm.
The waitress, a woman in her fifties with graying hair, didn’t seem surprised. She’d seen her type before—the tired, determined detective who came with questions no one had answers to.
“Who’re you looking for?” the waitress asked, wiping a glass with a rag.
“Annie Doyle,” Rachel said, watching her closely. “I know she used to come here.”
The waitress paused, her hand lingering on the glass for a moment too long. She glanced at the old man, who had now started to listen. His eyes narrowed, and he shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.
“I’ve heard of her. What about her?” the waitress asked, her voice now cautious.
“She was last seen around here,” Rachel said, her voice colder now. “I know she came in a lot, late at night.”
The waitress hesitated, then sighed. “I didn’t know her well. But I do remember her coming in about three weeks ago. She was with a man. Seemed… off. Like she didn’t want to be seen with him. Didn’t want to be seen at all, really.”
Rachel’s heart skipped. “What do you mean, ‘off’?”
The waitress leaned in, lowering her voice. “He was… familiar. Not from around here, but I’d seen him before. Not in a good way. A few months ago, some guy came in here looking for something. He didn’t say what. But there was something about him. Something dangerous.”
Rachel’s fingers tightened into fists, her mind racing. “What happened to the man?”
The waitress shook her head. “He left with Annie. I never saw her after that. But I… I don’t think she ever left with him willingly.”
Rachel felt a shiver run through her. “Do you remember anything about him? What he looked like?”
The waitress wrinkled her brow, trying to recall. “He was tall. Pale. Dark hair. And his eyes… they were… strange. Like he was hiding something. But I never thought much of it.”
Rachel stood up, placing a couple of bills on the counter. “Thanks,” she said, nodding at the waitress. But before she could leave, the old man at the counter spoke up.
“You’re making a mistake,” he rasped, his voice rough with age.
Rachel turned, her eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”
The old man stared at her with a piercing gaze. “You’re looking in the wrong place. The answer’s not out there,” he said, gesturing vaguely out the window.
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”
The old man leaned closer, his voice barely a whisper. “The building. It’s where they kept her. And where you’ll find the truth.”
Rachel’s heart pounded as she looked at him. He wasn’t making sense, but his words felt important. “What building?” she asked, her voice tense.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a long, slow drink from his cup, his eyes never leaving hers. “The one beneath the ground. It’s always been there. You just have to know where to look.”
Rachel’s pulse raced. The building beneath the ground? It made no sense, but it didn’t matter. Her gut told her this was a lead.
“Where?” she demanded.
The man slowly slid a napkin across the counter, on which was scribbled a single address. “Look for it,” he said cryptically. “It’s not on any map. But it’s there. And it’s been there a lot longer than you think.”
Rachel snatched the napkin up, studying the address. Her mind spun, but she had no time to waste. She turned on her heel and walked out of the diner, not bothering to look back.
The rain had slowed by the time she reached her car. Her breath was steady, but her thoughts were racing. The old man’s words echoed in her head as she drove toward the address on the napkin. Beneath the ground. What did he mean? What had he meant about the building?
It didn’t take long before she arrived at an old industrial area, the streets empty and quiet in the early morning hours. The buildings here were forgotten, their windows boarded up, their doors locked and rusted. She parked her car and stepped out, glancing at the address again. The building she needed to find was just ahead, hidden in plain sight.
Rachel walked carefully, the chill in the air biting at her skin. Her flashlight cut through the darkness as she neared a large, crumbling warehouse. She had been here before, but never like this. This time, she wasn’t just chasing shadows. She was hunting the truth.
The ground beneath her feet felt unstable, and as she approached a small metal door in the back, her flashlight flickered. She hesitated for a moment before pushing it open, the door groaning in protest.
Inside was a narrow stairway leading downward. She descended, the walls damp and cold, until she reached a concrete floor. There, in the center of the room, was a small, wooden chest. She approached slowly, her breath shallow, and when she opened it, the answer was waiting for her.
The missing hour.
Annie Doyle had never left this place. She had been trapped here, in the dark, and the truth had been buried deep beneath the surface all along.