Buried During Snowfall – Chapter 2
The Boy Beneath the Ice
Mara Quinn did not speak during the drive.
Rain hammered the windshield hard enough to blur the city into streaks of red and white light while Adrian sat in the passenger seat gripping the letter so tightly the paper had begun tearing near the folds. Greyford at night always looked diseased — flooded sidewalks, flickering neon signs, alleys crowded with steam rising from sewer vents like breath escaping a dying animal. The city had a way of swallowing people quietly. That was why Adrian never trusted missing-person statistics. Greyford did not lose people accidentally. It consumed them.
“You should’ve gone to the police earlier,” Mara finally said.
Adrian gave a hollow laugh. “And tell them what? That a dead serial killer mailed me a prophecy?”
“You were a consultant for homicide for twelve years. They’d listen.”
“No. They’d observe. Big difference.”
Mara glanced sideways at him. “You really think Thorn is alive?”
Adrian stared ahead silently for several seconds before answering.
“No.”
That answer should have sounded reassuring.
Instead it sounded worse.
Bellgrave Station emerged through the rain twenty minutes later, massive and dim beneath elevated railway tracks. The place never truly slept. Drunks wandered near ticket machines. Exhausted workers smoked beneath leaking awnings. Somewhere deep underground, trains screamed through tunnels like metal animals being tortured alive. Adrian stepped out into cold rain and immediately noticed the clock mounted above the entrance.
8:42 PM.
Too close.
Mara followed him quickly. “You think it happens tonight?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you’re panicking.”
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s not what panic looks like?”
Adrian ignored her and entered the station.
Warm air mixed with the smell of oil, wet concrete, and electricity. Hundreds of people moved through the terminal — commuters, tourists, homeless addicts sleeping against walls. Any one of them could have been Evelyn Mercer. Adrian scanned faces rapidly while his mind worked through old patterns he wished he had forgotten.
Elias Thorn always announced murders beforehand.
Not to brag.
To prove superiority.
That was the terrifying part.
He wanted police to try stopping him.
Because failure frightened people more than surprise.
Adrian suddenly stopped walking.
Platform 4.
A woman stood alone near the edge.
Blonde.
Mid-forties.
Dark green coat.
Looking at her phone.
Mara noticed Adrian’s expression instantly. “You know her?”
“No.”
But the name hit him anyway.
Mercer.
Evelyn Mercer.
Not common enough to ignore.
Adrian moved toward her fast.
“Ma’am.”
The woman looked up, annoyed at first. Then confused seeing the urgency in his face.
“You need to leave the station immediately.”
“What?”
“Right now.”
Mara flashed her badge quickly before the woman could react badly. “Detective Quinn. We just need you to come with us.”
Fear spread across the woman’s face. “Why?”
“What’s your name?” Adrian asked.
The woman hesitated.
Then said it.
“Evelyn.”
Adrian’s stomach dropped.
A train thundered somewhere deeper in the tunnels.
The lights above Platform 4 flickered once.
Then again.
Adrian stepped closer instinctively.
“Listen carefully,” he said. “Has anyone contacted you recently? Letters? Phone calls?”
“No.”
“Anyone from Ashriver Boarding School?”
The woman’s face changed instantly.
Too quickly.
She knew the name.
And that terrified her.
Mara caught it too. “You attended Ashriver?”
Evelyn slowly nodded.
Before anyone could speak again, every light inside the station went out.
Darkness swallowed the platform.
People screamed instantly.
Metal screeched underground.
Emergency lights flashed on seconds later, bathing the station in deep red illumination that made everyone look half-dead.
And Evelyn Mercer was gone.
Adrian spun around violently.
“Mara!”
“I’m looking!”
Passengers shouted in confusion while station alarms began ringing overhead. Adrian pushed through crowds toward the tunnel entrance beside Platform 4. Something primal had already taken over his thoughts. Instinct. Dread. Recognition.
Then he saw blood.
A thin line of it stretching across the platform floor.
Fresh.
Still moving.
Mara drew her weapon immediately. “Jesus Christ…”
The blood trail disappeared into a maintenance corridor marked EMPLOYEES ONLY.
Adrian didn’t wait.
He shoved open the door and entered darkness.
The corridor smelled damp and rotten. Pipes lined the ceiling dripping rusty water onto concrete floors. Emergency lights flickered weakly every few feet. Somewhere ahead, footsteps echoed.
Running.
Adrian followed them.
“Mara!” he shouted behind him.
No answer.
Then came another sound.
Crying.
Soft at first.
Then louder.
A child crying.
Adrian stopped moving instantly.
Impossible.
His breathing turned shallow.
Not because of fear.
Because he recognized the sound.
A memory punched through him so suddenly he nearly lost balance.
Snow falling outside dormitory windows.
Children whispering after midnight.
Someone crying beneath the floorboards.
No.
No no no—
The crying came again from farther ahead.
Adrian moved slowly now.
Every instinct screamed at him to turn back.
The corridor opened into an abandoned service platform coated in dust and darkness. Old tracks ended abruptly against collapsed concrete. Water dripped from the ceiling in slow rhythmic taps.
And standing at the far end was a child.
A boy.
Maybe twelve years old.
Thin.
Barefoot.
Wearing an old Ashriver Boarding School uniform.
Adrian’s blood turned to ice.
The boy’s face remained hidden beneath shadows.
But Adrian already knew him.
Impossible.
Dead for thirty years.
The boy lifted his head slightly.
“You left us there,” he whispered.
Adrian stumbled backward.
Mara entered behind him finally, gun raised. “Adrian, who the hell are you talking to?”
The boy was gone.
Only darkness remained.
Adrian could barely breathe now.
“That’s not possible…”
Mara grabbed his shoulder. “What did you see?”
Before he could answer, a scream exploded through the corridor.
Female.
Close.
Both ran toward the sound.
They found Evelyn Mercer inside an old electrical room.
Still alive.
But barely.
She sat against the wall shaking violently, blood covering her coat.
Her throat had not been cut.
Instead, both her hands had been nailed to the concrete floor.
Exactly side by side.
Like a display.
Mara swore under her breath and called for backup immediately.
Evelyn looked directly at Adrian with pure terror in her eyes.
“He knows,” she whispered.
“Who?”
“The boy beneath the ice…”
Adrian felt his heartbeat stop.
“How do you know that phrase?”
Evelyn began sobbing uncontrollably.
“We never should’ve opened the lake.”
Mara looked between them, confused. “What lake?”
Neither answered.
Then Adrian noticed something carved into the floor beside Evelyn’s bleeding hands.
Not numbers this time.
A sentence.
Freshly carved into concrete.
THERE WERE NEVER SEVEN.
Adrian closed his eyes briefly.
Because that sentence confirmed something he had spent half his life trying not to believe.
The official Ashriver story was a lie.
And whoever started killing again knew exactly what happened that winter. to believe Elias Thorn never died.”