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The 98.7 Murders

The 98.7 Murders November 2023, Los Angeles. Rain drummed against the studio windows as late-night radio DJ Marcus Reid spoke into his microphone. "98.7, your midnight frequency. Thanks for staying with me tonight." Line 3 lit up. Marcus picked up the call. "98.7, you're on." A distorted voice came through the static—like an old cassette tape dying. "...Marcus. It's me." Marcus froze. That voice belonged to Elena Torres, his ex-girlfriend who vanished three years ago. The LAPD had classified Elena's disappearance as a cold case. She'd left her apartment one autumn night and simply vanished. Security cameras caught her walking along Riverside Drive, then nothing. Marcus checked the recording file. The call hadn't been recorded. No system log, no trace. The next day, Marcus visited Detective James Cooper, now running a private investigation firm. Cooper was skeptical but agreed to reopen the case. In Elena's preserved bedroom, they found an old cassette player and a worn tape. Marcus played it. Static at first, then repeating beats and high-pitched tones. "Morse code," Cooper said, running it through an analysis program. "HELP. WAREHOUSE. PIER 17." Pier 17 was abandoned—rusted containers and empty warehouses. Rain fell again as Marcus and Cooper searched. At the last warehouse, they found "98.7" spray-painted on the wall. Inside: dozens of radios, all tuned to 98.7 FM, all glowing. In the center sat old broadcasting equipment. Cooper found recording files and pressed play. Elena's voice emerged. "Marcus... can you hear me? I keep sending signals. But you can't hear them. Or... you won't." The timestamp on the most recent file: last night. Cooper isolated background noise from the recordings. A man's voice emerged: "Keep broadcasting. No one can find you. You're trapped in my airwaves forever." Marcus went pale. "That's Derek Hammond." Derek Hammond—Marcus's former colleague, obsessed with Elena, jealous of their relationship. He'd disappeared three years ago after being fired. Cooper contacted police, but Marcus couldn't wait. Audio analysis revealed Elena's location: an abandoned radio transmission tower on the city's outskirts. Marcus drove there alone through intensifying rain. The tower loomed in darkness, a red light blinking at its peak. Inside, he followed faint music down the corridor—his own voice from three years ago: "Tonight's final song goes out to someone special. Elena, if you're listening... I'm still waiting for you." He opened a door. Elena sat tied to a chair, wearing headphones, lips moving continuously. "Marcus... can you hear me... I'm here..." "Touching, isn't it?" Derek Hammond stood behind him, holding a stun gun. "Three years. Every night she sent you signals. But you never heard them. You were on a different frequency." Derek's laugh was maniacal. "Elena said you two were perfectly in sync. So I tested it. Every night, she sent messages. You never noticed once." "Why?" Marcus demanded. "Love. Distorted love. Obsession with a frequency I could never reach. Love is just a signal. Without someone to receive it, it's nothing but noise." Glass shattered. Cooper and the SWAT team burst in. Derek was subdued. Elena was rescued. Six months later, Elena slowly recovered in the hospital. Marcus visited every night with cassette tapes—songs from when they first met. "This time I can hear you clearly," Elena whispered. "Your signal." Marcus held her hand. That night, he returned to broadcasting. "Midnight Transmission" continued with new meaning. "98.7, your midnight frequency. Elena, I finally received your signal. And now... we're on the same frequency." — Transmission ends. - © All writing and music in this playlist are Melodiary originals.