TRUE CRIME: HANGMAN

CHAPTER FOUR

Previously on True Crime: Hangman:

Detectives John and Mike of the quiet town of Vaughan have been chasing shadows. A ruthless killer known only as The Hangman has left a trail of bodies, each death more precise, more methodical than the last. The killer's work is clean, almost surgical—no prints, no witnesses, no mistakes. But their latest crime scene yielded a single clue: a strand of blonde hair, DNA-matched to Angela Hopkins—the town's golden girl, former cheer captain, and daughter of the influential Hopkins family. Angela is now missing, and the last known person to see her alive? Her ex-boyfriend—James Erling.

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Detective John adjusted the collar of his overcoat as a bitter wind cut through the neighborhood. The sky was overcast, a grey sheet smothering the town in gloom. He approached the modest Erling residence—paint chipped, windows fogged from within—while Mike rubbed his gloved hands together, his breath turning to mist in the frigid air.

The knock on the door echoed hollowly. Moments passed. Then the door creaked open.

Mary Erling stood framed in the doorway. The woman looked like a ghost—skeletal, hollow-eyed, a sheen of sweat clinging to her pale face. Her white robe hung from her frame like a shroud, damp at the collar. Her voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper.

“Can I help you, officers?”

“Good evening, ma’am,” Mike said, glancing down at his dog-eared notebook. “We’re looking for James Erling.”

Her lips twitched. “James! Get out here! What’s he done now?” she called out, voice cracking.

From deeper in the house came a clatter of movement. “Yeah, Mom, I’m coming!”

James appeared seconds later—a wiry teenager with restless eyes and a hoodie pulled halfway over his head. He stopped short at the sight of the two detectives.

“James,” John began, “We’re investigating the disappearance of Angela Hopkins your girlfriend.”

James rolled his eyes. “You mean ex-girlfriend. She dumped me before prom.”

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Her parents say you were the last person to see her.”

James shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. “I took her to the creek. Thought it’d be chill before prom. She’d never been. We talked… she broke up with me. Said she was gonna grab an Uber. That’s the last I saw of her.”

Detective John studied the boy's face. No twitch. No sign of hesitation. But his eyes didn’t match his voice. They darted. Too fast. Too controlled.

“Did you know she never made it home?” Mike asked, voice harder now.

James blinked. “No... I didn’t. Look, I didn’t hurt her. She was done with me—I got the message.”

A tense silence hung in the air.

“What is this?” Mary snapped, stepping forward. “Is my son under arrest?”

“Not yet,” John replied evenly. “But we can take this further. A search of your property, maybe?”

Mary stiffened. “Do you have a warrant?”

“Not today,” said Mike, his voice like frost. “But you can either let your son come with us voluntarily, or we start turning over every floorboard in this place. Your choice.”

Mary’s eyes flickered. For a second, her expression crumbled. She turned to James, and something passed between them—unspoken, heavy. As she had some drugs in the house and would not risk getting caught, she was already a conflicted felony in the county.

“Go with them,” she said flatly.

“Mom, seriously—”

“Now, James,” she hissed, her voice low and trembling. “Or don’t bother coming back.”

James clenched his jaw, fists tight at his sides, but said nothing. With a sullen nod, he followed the detectives to their cruiser.

The car door slammed shut. The engine roared to life.

As they drove off into the icy dusk, the wind howled like a warning through the narrow streets of Vaughan.

Somewhere out there. The Hangman was watching.

And time was running out.