Haunted

by Amy Cross

  I could have made sure that nothing like this happened.

  “Lenny Johnson can't be trusted,” Tom continues. “Michael, take this advice from someone who knows how things work in this town. Lenny Johnson is not your friend. He's the biggest fish in this pond, but he only has power in Railham. Take your family away from here, and he can't reach you. That's the rub, really. You don't have to fight him. Just walk away and leave him here.”

  “I'm the sheriff,” I point out, although I can already feel the fear in my gut. “He wouldn't do anything to me. He can't do anything to me.”

  “Don't think like that, Michael. Lenny will do what suits Lenny, and that man has a long history of burying people who get in his way. You already know too much. We both know too much, and that means that Lenny is going to be thinking about whether or not he can trust us.” He pauses. “He knows he can trust me. For better or for worse, he knows he's got me wrapped around his little finger, but I don't think the same applies to you. He's going to be wondering about your loyalty, and I think you and I both know what conclusion he'll draw.”

  I want to tell him that he's crazy, but a moment later I hear the front door start to open. I was supposed to call the hospital and check on Louisa, but suddenly I hear her calling out to me.

  “You know what you have to do,” Tom continues, getting up from the bed and taking his bag from Alex's desk. “Every second you delay, is another second you're keeping yourself in danger. Leave us all behind, and take your family, and get the hell out of town.”

  ***

  “Leave?” Louisa replies, clearly shocked by the idea. “What are you talking about? Michael, we can't leave our home!”

  “We have to,” I tell her, stepping over and placing my hands on the sides of her arms, hoping to somehow make her see reason. “I'll explain later, but right now you need to trust me. This isn't our home anymore. You were attacked here, and our daughter -”

  “That was Neil Bloom,” she continues, interrupting me, “and he's dead now. You told me he's dead!”

  “He is.”

  “Then there has to be something you're not telling me.”

  “Let's just pack a bag,” I reply, “and get out of here. We can go and stay with your mother for a while. You've been saying you want to see her, so let's go. We can figure everything else out once we're on the road, but staying in Railham is not an option.”

  “Why not?”

  “Just trust me on this!”

  “Michael, I didn't check myself out of hospital just so I could come home and be -”

  Suddenly there's a creak on the stairs, and we both turn to see a tired-looking Alex coming down, rubbing her eyes as if she's barely awake.

  “My head hurts,” she whimpers, “and I feel funny.”

  “That's okay, darling,” Louisa says, hurrying over to her and crouching down to give her a hug. “You're my brave little girl and everything's going to be alright.” She pulls her tight and then looks over Alex's shoulder, staring straight at me. “You're home now, Alex. Everything's going to be alright.”

  “My tummy feels funny.”

  “Well, then we'd better fill it with your favorite food. Do you want some ice cream?”

  “It's not dinnertime. I'm not allowed ice cream for breakfast.”

  She pauses, as if a glimmer of hope is starting to stir in her chest.

  “Am I?” she adds cautiously.

  “You are today,” Louisa replies, clearly desperate to make her feel better, as if she thinks a few scoops of ice cream will make everything alright. Getting to her feet, she heads toward the open doorway. “I'll get both tubs and you can choose whatever flavors you want. Daddy and I might even have some with you.”

  Once she's in the kitchen, I watch as Alex examines the bandage on her arm. She's furrowing her brow, as if she's in pain, but as each second passes I can't help worrying that somehow, deep down, she knows what happened.

  “You caught it,” I tell her.

  She turns to me, and I swear I can see a hint of suspicion in her eyes. Tom Milford promised me that she was completely unconscious for the whole time she was out of the house, and that she likely wouldn't remember Neil coming in and taking her, but I can't help wondering whether she somehow senses that a bad thing happened.

  “You caught your arm,” I continue, stepping over to her and sitting on one of the chairs. “Sweetheart, what's the last thing you remember before you woke up just now?”

  She rubs her eyes again.

  “Just tell me, Alex. What do you remember?”

  “I remember going to bed,” she says sleepily.

  “And nothing after that?”

  She pauses for a moment, just long enough to make me worry, and then she shakes her head.

  “Well, that's good,” I continue, feeling a rush of relief as I realize that at least she hopefully won't be haunted by memories of her ordeal. “Daddy's going to look after you. In fact, I was thinking of taking you and Mommy on a road trip. Would you like that? We can go tonight, or first thing in the morning, and visit your grandmother.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it'd be fun!”

  “You don't like Grammy,” she points out.

  “Says who?”

  “She doesn't like you either.”

  “We can even think about moving to live somewhere else,” I continue, feeling a flutter of desperation. Maybe if I can get Alex on my side, we can persuade Louisa together. “Would you like to live somewhere else? Somewhere prettier?”

  “We've always lived here.”

  “That doesn't mean we can't go somewhere else.”

  “Where?”

  I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Somewhere far, far away.”

  “Why?”

  “This house isn't good anymore,” I reply, before I even have time to wonder whether I should be saying those words. “We shouldn't be here.”

  She stares at me, before looking up toward the ceiling. Again, she seems lost in thought, and this time I stay silent and watch her eyes. Maybe I'm imagining things, but I swear I can see a slow, growing sense of fear.

  “Just let Alex rest,” Louisa says suddenly as she comes through with two tubs of ice cream. She casts a disapproving glance my way, and I can tell that she doesn't want any more talk today about leaving Railham. “Don't you think she's been through enough? We all have. In case you didn't notice, Michael, we're the ones who were home last night when Neil Bloom showed up. You were out, and we were here. So if we're okay to stay, then maybe you should just stop forcing the issue.”

  “We're leaving,” I tell her.

  “Of course we're not leaving,” she mutters, setting one of the tubs in front of me. “Everything's fine. Now just -”

  “I'm not letting Alex stay here!” I shout, pushing the tub away until it falls to the floor. “You have no idea what nearly happened to her tonight! I'm not staying in this town for one second longer than I have to!”

  “I'm going to get some spoons,” she replies, before turning and heading to the doorway. “We'll need bowls too.”

  “We have to get out of here,” I whisper, as I start to realize that maybe I should be honest with my wife. “We -”

  Suddenly Alex makes a retching sound, and I turn to her just as she doubles over and vomits. Tom said this might happen, but I can't help panicking as I put an arm around her and try to hold her steady.

  “It's okay,” I stammer, trying not to let her hear the panic in my voice. “You're okay, Alex, I promise. You're going to be fine.”

  “I don't want ice cream,” she replies, her voice sounding tense as if she might throw up again at any moment. “Can I go to bed?”

  “Of course.”

  “But Daddy,” she groans, as she wipes her mouth again, “first, can you make the little girl go away?”

  “What little girl?” I ask.

  “The one who's been in my bedroom for the past few days,” she continues, as she looks back up toward the ceiling w
ith a fearful expression. “The one who doesn't have any eyes.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Alex Roberts

  Today

  “I'll be home soon,” I tell Brad. “I'll explain everything when I get there.”

  “Are you okay?” he asks. “You sound upset.”

  “It's complicated,” I reply, glancing across the room and seeing that Harry is looking out the window, watching the dark street. “I don't even understand it all myself, but -”

  Before I can finish, I hear the doorbell ringing over the phone.

  “Who the hell's here this late?” Brad mutters, followed by the sound of footsteps and then the creak of the front door opening. “Oh hey, what's up?”

  “Who is it?” I ask.

  “I've gotta go, Alex,” he continues. “Tom Milford's here. Just get home soon, okay?”

  Once the call is over, I turn and look at Harry.

  “The very last time I spoke to your father,” he says after a moment, “was when he called me up on that awful day. He was scared. He sounded like he was trapped, and he was talking about...”

  I wait for him to finish that sentence, but he seems almost too scared to say another word.

  “What was he talking about?” I ask finally. “Please, you have to tell me. I need to know.”

  “He was talking about Mo Garvey,” he says, and now his voice is trembling with fear. “He said he'd seen Mo Garvey's ghost in your bedroom. He said she'd come for him.”

  Chapter Forty

  Sheriff Michael Blaine

  20 years ago

  The top step creaks as I reach the landing. I can see the door to Alex's bedroom, left wide open, but the only sound comes from downstairs as Louisa continues to try getting some ice cream into the bowls. I don't blame my wife for fussing, and for wanting to pretend that everything's okay, but deep down I know that she's wrong.

  And Alex is wrong.

  She has to be wrong.

  Even as I make my way toward the door to her bedroom, I keep telling myself that there's no way she could have actually seen Mo Garvey in our house. At the same time, her description of the dead girl was very accurate, even though it's impossible for her to have seen any photos. She claims that Mo has been standing in the corner of her room, and that she's seen her several times now. She says she even saw her just a couple of minutes ago, when she woke up alone. She mentioned something like this before, but I assumed she was just being an imaginative kid. Now, however, I can feel a cold, creeping sense of dread making its way up my spine.

  Stopping in the doorway, I look into the room and see to my relief that there's no sign of anyone in the corner.

  Of course there's no sign of anyone. I know that.

  So why is my heart pounding so fast?

  Making my way into the room, I look around, making absolutely sure that there's nobody hiding behind the door. I even crouch down and look under the bed, in case the ghost of Mo Garvey is playing hide-and-go-seek, but the whole idea is starting to feel more and more absurd by the second. As I get to my feet, I'm already starting to feel silly for letting Alex's crazy story get into my head. Frankly, given everything my daughter has been through over the past twenty-four hours, plus the fact that she probably picked up on my stress since Mo Garvey was found dead, it'd be a miracle if she hadn't started seeing things.

  I guess that's another reason why we need to get out of this house.

  Sighing, I turn to head back to the door. As I do so, however, I suddenly spot a figure in the corner of my eye. Glancing back toward the corner next to the window, I can already see that I'm alone in the room, but for a split second I swear there was a face staring at me.

  Not just any face, either.

  It looked like -

  “No,” I whisper, trying to steady my thoughts and keep from falling down that particular rabbit-hole.

  I wait a moment, but there's definitely no sign of anyone, even if I briefly thought I saw the face of Mo Garvey – bloodied and bruised, with gouged-out eye-sockets and a torn mouth – looking straight at me.

  And then, suddenly, I realize the air in here seems very cold. Icy, even. At the same time, the patch of freezing air seems to move, brushing past my left side and then slipping away. I turn and look in that direction, and a moment later one of the floorboards creaks near the door.

  This is all in my head.

  I'm not -

  Suddenly the door slams shut, with such force that the frame rattles and I take an involuntary step back. I wait half a heartbeat, just in case there's any sign of movement, and then I hurry to the door and pull it open. Once I'm out on the landing, I realize I can hear footsteps downstairs.

  “Are you okay up there?” Louisa shouts. “Why are you slamming the doors?”

  “I'm fine,” I reply, “I was just -”

  Suddenly I feel the air temperature drop right behind me. I shudder and start to turn, but then I hesitate for a moment, scared of what I might see.

  “Mike?” Louisa calls out. “Are you coming for ice cream?”

  “Wait!”

  I hesitate for a few more seconds, before finally forcing myself to look back toward the door.

  Mo Garvey is standing right behind me, staring up at my face with her hollow, bloodied eye-sockets. Her mouth is wide open, with dried blood caked around her lips and chin, and she lets out a dry gasp as she steps toward me and reaches out. Her dirty, filth-encrusted hands press against my chest and I step back. She tries to follow, but her right leg seems to give way and she stumbles. Letting out another gasp, she reaches up and brushes a hand against my face.

  Turning and hurrying to the top of the stairs, I almost trip over my own feet.

  When I look over my shoulder, I half expect Mo to be gone, but she's not.

  Gasping again, she stumbles toward me, and this time I can't help but notice that she's running her hands across the wall, as if she's having to feel her way toward me. Her leg gives way again and she almost falls, but she lets out a low groan as she reaches this way with her grasping, twitching hands.

  I step back, as I realize that she can't actually see me.

  Opening her mouth to cry out, she tries to grab my arm, but she misses and stumbles past me. As she groans again, I see thick, partially dried blood stretching across her gaping mouth, and I can just about make out the torn stub of her tongue, far back in her throat.

  “Please,” I stammer, “just -”

  As soon as those words leave my lips, they seem to draw her attention. She turns toward me and gasps again, stumbling this way just as I start backing down the stairs. Mo flails, desperately trying to grab me, but she quickly bumps against the railing and stops for a moment, as if she's trying to find me again. She seems frozen, waiting for some hint of where I've gone.

  After a few seconds, I realize I'm holding my breath.

  If I make so much as a tiny noise, she'll hear me. And if she hears me, she'll -

  “Mike?”

  Startled, I turn and see that Louisa is standing at the bottom of the stairs. I turn back to look up toward the landing, and to my surprise I find that there's suddenly no sign of Mo Garvey at all.

  “Were you running just now?” Louisa asks. “It sounded like you were banging about up there.”

  Before I can reply, Alex steps into view behind her, and I can once again see the fear in my daughter's eyes. As she looks at me, I swear I feel as if somehow she knows exactly what I just encountered.

  “I'm fine,” I say finally, convinced that I must have imagined the whole thing. “I was just... I'm fine, I promise.”

  “Did you see her?” Alex asks.

  Louisa rolls her eyes.

  “You did,” Alex continues, staring at me. “I told you she's real!”

  “Come on, honey,” Louisa says, taking her hand and steering her back through to the kitchen. “Let's try to focus on other things, okay?”

  “But Daddy saw her!”

  “Do you want more ice cream? You
can have one more scoop, and then that's it. How about we go to the park later? It's a nice day, we shouldn't spend all our time indoors. Ice cream and the park make everything better.”

  I want to call out, to tell Alex that I did see something, but deep down I know that whatever I think I saw, it was all just in my head. Heading back up the stairs, I make my way to Alex's bedroom, but when I look through I can't help feeling as if the atmosphere seems lighter somehow, as if some kind of presence has lifted. A moment later, feeling my phone buzz, I slip it from my pocket and see Harry's name flashing on the screen.

  “What have you got for me?” I ask, although I can immediately hear that my voice sounds a little frail and panicked.

  “Are you okay?” he replies.

  “Yeah, I...”

  Staring at the corner by the window, I half expect to see Mo Garvey's face again. There's no sign of her, however, and I step back out onto the landing. I want to ask Harry about Neil Bloom, but at the same time I also feel as if I need to tell him what I just experienced. Just in case.

  “It's all my fault,” I whisper.

  “What did you just say?”

  “It's all my fault,” I stammer again. “Harry, I need to tell you everything, but first I have to get my family out of here. For the next couple of hours, I need you to sit outside my house in a patrol car.”

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “I'll explain it all once I've got Louisa and Alex out of here, but right now I need you to get down here and sit outside. I need people to see that this house is protected.”

  “Sure, boss,” he replies, “whatever you say.”

  “And don't trust anyone else.”

  “But if -”

  “Promise me!”

  There's a pause on the other end of the line. I'm sure Harry thinks I'm a lunatic, but right now that doesn't matter. What matters is keeping my family safe.