Page 64 of In Her Bed
“I need you,” she’d said.“They’ve come.”
Kevin had felt the panic rise in his throat as she’d spoken of law enforcement officials asking questions.He knew the visit could only mean one thing—that the law was closing in on him.And now he had to act faster.And he had to seize an opportunity he’d been long waiting for.The Midnight Voice herself was coming to him.
Kevin checked his watch.9:32 PM.She would arrive soon.
He gathered his equipment and moved toward the roof access door.The hinges groaned in protest as he pulled them open, revealing a dark stairwell below.Kevin flicked the flashlight beam down the concrete steps, illuminating decades of dust and debris.The beam caught a scuttling movement—a rat or large insect—and Kevin felt a momentary kinship with the creature.Both of them dwelled in forgotten spaces, and both moved through shadows unseen.
He descended the stairs carefully.When he reached the landing, a vast, empty mass production space spread out before him, where workers had long ago stitched and shaped footwear.Kevin had spent countless hours here as a sound engineer during Astral Waves’ brief existence.
He smiled as he remembered those days—the excitement of illegal broadcasting, the thrill of sharing fringe ideas that mainstream media would never touch.Ray Tucker had been the face of the operation, but Diana—she had been its soul.
The Midnight Voice had spoken of cosmic consciousness, of signals from beyond our dimension trying to break through.She alone had heard the messages in the static between stations, and she had interpreted them for her loyal listeners.
And Kevin had believed her.Had worshipped her.
Until she rejected him.
The memory still burned like acid in his mind.The night he’d approached her after a broadcast, trembling with excitement, confessing that he too had begun to hear whispers in the static.Her eyes had narrowed, assessing him.
“You’re not ready,” she had told him.“You’re hearing echoes, not the true voice.”
The dismissal had crushed him, but he’d persisted in his efforts.Years of listening, tuning, and adjusting frequencies.Years of failure.
Until he’d realized the truth—human bodies were better antennas than any metal construction.
Kevin descended another flight of stairs, moving deeper into the building’s core.Finally, he reached the narrow staircase that led to the basement.This had been Ray’s stroke of genius—broadcasting from below ground level, using the building’s mass to help shield their signal from immediate detection by the FCC.
Kevin descended slowly.The basement corridor was lined with storage rooms and utility spaces.At the far end, behind an unmarked door, lay the former heart of Astral Waves.He approached it reverently, feeling the familiar quickening of his pulse.How many nights had he spent in that room, listening to Diana’s hypnotic voice weaving tales of cosmic consciousness and interdimensional communication?
He pushed the door open, and there it was—the studio, preserved like a time capsule of fringe radio broadcasting.Kevin swept the beam of his flashlight across the space, noting with satisfaction that the backup generator he’d checked last week still sat in the corner.He approached it, set down his equipment, and gave the starter cord a firm pull.After a moment of resistance, the generator coughed to life, its low rumble filling the room.
With power flowing, Kevin flipped switches on the wall.Battery-powered emergency lights flickered on, casting the studio in a dim, yellowish glow.It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
He moved to the central table and placed a two-way radio there, a poor substitute for the professional equipment that had once filled this space, but adequate for his purposes.
He checked his watch again.9:51 PM.
Soon, he thought.Very soon.
***
The tires of their vehicle squealed as Jake took the corner.Jenna braced herself against the door, her mind racing faster than the car.Diana Wells had vanished—slipped right past the officers assigned to protect her.
“How the hell does someone under police protection just walk out?”Jake grumbled.“Morgan’s going to be apoplectic.”
“Morgan’s the least of our concerns right now,” Jenna replied.“If the killer gets to Diana before we do...”
She left the thought unfinished.They both knew what was at stake.
The new age shop came into view.A police cruiser was already parked haphazardly near the entrance—Chief Morgan’s vehicle.Colonel Spelling stood beside it.
Jake pulled in behind the cruiser and killed the engine.They approached the storefront where Morgan was berating a uniformed officer.“—most basic aspect of the job.You had one responsibility.One!”
Colonel Spelling stood slightly apart.When he spotted Jenna and Jake approaching, a flash of relief crossed his features.
Morgan turned, his anger redirecting toward the newcomers.“Glad you could join us, Sheriff.”
Jenna ignored the comment and addressed the uniformed officer directly.“Officer, I need to understand exactly what happened.When did you last see Ms.Wells?”
