When Dr. Callum vanished, no one had a clue where he’d gone.
Not his colleagues. Not his family. Not even law enforcement. One moment he was heading to his car after a night shift at the hospital—and the next, he was simply gone. No messages. No goodbye. Just complete silence.
For weeks, theories swirled. Maybe he’d cracked under pressure. Maybe something darker had taken hold. Or maybe he’d chosen to vanish. But none of it added up. He’d just signed a lease. He was supposed to walk his sister down the aisle. He’d left a sandwich half-eaten on his desk.
Then, just this week, a breakthrough.
But it wasn’t a neat answer or a police update—it was a voicemail. A chilling, muffled one, from a blocked number.
It was him. Callum. But his voice wasn’t the one we knew. The calm, grounded tone was replaced by something jagged—anxiety, confusion, fear.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… just… I need to tell you… can’t explain… they’re watching me.”
That was all. The message ended abruptly, mid-thought.
I sat frozen, phone in hand, heart racing. What had I just heard? Was he in danger? Being followed? Drugged? Controlled?
I immediately called Jenna, his sister. We’d both been holding onto fragments of hope for three long months, and now—finally—we had something. But the police hadn’t helped much so far, and with this strange new clue, it felt like it was up to us.
We decided to dig.
Over the next few days, we combed through everything—his bank records, old notebooks, emails, even his Amazon orders. Desperation has a way of sharpening your senses. And then, something strange surfaced.
An email thread with someone named “Elena.”
Short, cryptic messages. Phrases like “the project’s too big to fail” and “the meeting has to stay off-grid.” It wasn’t enough to explain anything—but it was enough to feel the shift in our stomachs.
The next morning, we went to his apartment. It had been locked up and left untouched since the day he vanished. His keys still hung on the rack. His coffee mug was in the sink. It felt like walking into a time capsule—and we were about to open it.