Synopsis

A chill settled over Slokum, deeper than the autumn air. It wasn't just the weather; it was the unsettling rhythm of death that had begun to echo through the town. Each new arrival at the morgue was a stark reminder of a growing dread, a silent scream in the quiet hours. The pattern was unmistakable – precise, calculated, and chillingly familiar. Old wounds, meticulously reopened. Familiar methods, executed with a disturbing artistry. It was as if a ghost from Slokum’s past had returned, not