3AM

by Amy Cross

  “Have you seen my sister?” she continued. “Her name's Megan. She looks a little like me, but a little older.”

  “I don't know,” he replied. “I see a lot of people.”

  “Here,” Beth said, setting the laptop down and pulling a photo of Megan from her pocket. “This is her. She was here about a week ago, but I don't know where she is now. She came to Marshall Heights to look for my aunt, and now I'm here to look for both of them. So far, I haven't really found anything at all. To be honest, I could really use some help.”

  Toby stared at the photo for a moment.

  “I've seen her,” he said finally.

  “When?”

  He continued to stare at the photo, before tilting his head slightly.

  “I saw her twice,” he continued. “The first time was when she arrived. She came in a taxi and I heard her talking to the man from the office. I followed them up to the flat where her aunt used to live, and I waited outside. I was listening to them while they talked.”

  “You were, huh?” Rose replied, starting to feel more than a little creeped out by the detached, almost dazed tone in his voice. “Why did you do that?”

  “It's not often that someone new comes here. I did the same when you arrived.”

  “And did you hear anything interesting while you were listening to my sister?”

  “The man kept telling her not to come out of the flat at three in the morning,” he continued. “That's what he does with new people. He plants the idea in their mind by warning them, and then they're more likely to notice things. He needs them to come so they can get swapped.”

  “Swapped?”

  “One in, one out.”

  “And when was the second time you saw her?”

  “The night she disappeared.”

  She paused. “You saw her that night?”

  “She and the man from the office were in the flat,” he continued, “and then they came out. It was 3am and this time she came out. She saw Jennifer and followed her, but Jennifer didn't mean it. She never wants to hurt anyone.”

  “And then what happened?”

  She waited for a reply, but Toby simply stared at her.

  “What happened?” she asked, kneeling in front of him as she tried to stay calm. “Please, she's my sister, you have to tell me.”

  “She went to the flat.”

  “Which flat?”

  “Jennifer's flat.”

  “Which one is Jennifer's flat?”

  “It's on the third floor,” he replied. “I'll show you.”

  Six

  “Hello?” the female voice called out, accompanied by a knocking sound. “Ms. Booth, are you in there? This is W.P.C. Paula Claremont.”

  Standing completely still in the stairwell, Michael listened. He'd been on his way to check on the plumbing, but now he figured that could wait; it was rare for visitors to turn up at Marshall Heights, especially when the person they were hoping to see was someone who didn't technically live in the building at all.

  “Damn it,” he heard the voice say, followed by a pause that lasted almost a minute. Finally, footsteps could be heard making their way along the walkway, getting closer.

  Michael turned to hurry away, but at the last minute he decided to make his presence known. Heading up the stairs, he reached the end of the walkway just in time to come face to face with a female police officer.

  “Hi,” she said as she hit the Call button for the elevator. “You don't know where I could find Rose Booth, do you?”

  “Never heard of her.”

  “I think she's the niece of the woman who lives in flat 313.”

  “Oh...” Michael paused for a moment. “Yeah, I think I know who you mean. She's been staying here for a few nights.”

  “So do you know how I can get in touch with her? I don't have her phone number.”

  “Well, I...” He paused again, his mind racing, before finally he remembered to smile. “My name is Michael Powers,” he told her, reaching out to shake her hand, “I'm the building manager her at Marshall Heights.”

  “I dropped by your office just now,” she replied, “but you weren't there.”

  “I had some errands to run,” he said cautiously. “I hope you don't mind me asking, but... Well, it's just that I honestly can't remember the last time a police officer came to the building. Is something wrong?”

  “I hope not. It's just that Rose Booth came to the station recently to report a matter, and I wanted to follow up.”

  “Did she make some kind of complaint?” he asked, as the elevator door slid open.

  “No, she was just concerned about her sister and aunt.”

  The officer stepped into the chamber.

  “Are you going down?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he replied, following her inside and hitting the button for the ground floor. His mind was racing and he couldn't shake the feeling that the officer's arrival was extremely bad news.

  “I guess I'll come back later,” she said after a moment, as the chamber began to go down.

  “You will?” Again, Michael paused. He was usually so careful, so well-prepared, but this time he was struggling to come up with a plan. “She's very worried about her sister,” he explained. “I keep telling her that it's probably nothing, but she's determined to keep looking around.”

  “What makes you say that it's nothing?”

  “Just that people don't usually disappear,” he replied. “It could be any one of a hundred different things. I'm sure there's just been a communication mix-up. In fact, her sister left several days ago, saying she was going to Birmingham.”

  “She did?”

  He nodded.

  “Did you tell Rose?”

  “Of course. For some reason, she found it hard to believe, but eventually she left.”

  “When?”

  “This morning. She got in touch with her sister and, well, that was the end of that. She found her aunt, too. The whole thing turned out to be a huge mix-up.”

  “I think we both know,” she continued, “that Marshall Heights isn't the kind of place where simple mix-ups happen.” She paused for a moment, aware of the discomfort he was showing. “I guess I'm the first police officer to come here for a while, huh? You probably feel like you were the closest thing this place had to the law.”

  “Not really,” he replied nervously. “I just... I mean, sure, it has definitely been a while since anyone really showed any interest, but...” As the doors slid open, he stepped out into the foyer, with the officer just behind him. “It's about time someone came, actually,” he continued, turning to her. “I think I might have Rose Booth's phone number in my office. Come on, I'll see if I can dig it up. That way, you can call her and speak to her yourself.”

  ***

  “Do you want red or brown sauce?”

  Looking up from her book, Beth considered the question for a moment.

  “Red, please!” she called out finally.

  “Okay,” her mother replied. “Hang on, I'll be through in a minute.”

  Getting to her feet, Beth dusted the biscuit crumbs off the front of her dress before heading over to the door. Just as she stepped out into the hallway, however, she looked through at the kitchen and saw that her mother was taking a pill from one of the packets she usually kept on the shelf by the taps. Stepping back slightly, Beth watched her as she crushed the pill and sprinkled it on top of the burger.

  Heading back into the front room, Beth tried to make sense of what she'd just seen. The pills were supposed to make her mother sleep, she knew that much, but she didn't think they were supposed to be for her too. Besides, she never had any trouble sleeping.

  “Here you go,” her mother said, smiling as she brought the burger through and set it down on the table in the corner. “I hope you're hungry.”

  “Aren't you having one?” Beth asked, staring at the burger with suspicion.

  “Oh, I'm fine,” Charmian replied. “I had some toast earlier. Go on, tuck in.
”

  As her mother headed back to the kitchen, Beth made her way to the table and lifted the top of the bun. Peering closely at the burger, she realized she could see the white dust from the pill. Grabbing the knife, she carefully scraped the pill residue away, before replacing the top of the bun and taking a seat. Her mind was racing as she tried to work out why her mother would have put a sleeping pill in her food, but she was certain of one thing: there was no way she wanted to let herself be drugged.

  “Go on,” her mother said as she returned to the room, “eat it while it's hot.”

  As she took a bite from the burger, Beth couldn't help but notice that her mother was watching intently from the sofa, as if she was determined to make sure that she ate every mouthful. Glancing down at the carpet, Beth could just about make out some of the white powder, but she surreptitiously wiped it out of view with the heel of her shoes.

  “Nice burger?” her mother asked keenly.

  “Really nice,” Beth replied, forcing a smile as she took another bite.

  ***

  “It's not often we get a visit from the police here,” Michael said as he rifled through his desk. “I'd started to think that maybe you guys had started to ignore us.”

  “This is just a routine inquiry,” she replied, making her way across the office and stopped by the bookshelf at the far end. Picking up a folder, she opened it to find a collection of cuttings related to the train crash that had occurred a few years earlier. “I was on duty that night,” she continued. “My partner and I were among the first to get here. I'd only been in the force for a year, and I swear to God, I never thought I'd see so much carnage. They train us for things like that, but it's not enough. When you actually see so much horror...” Her voice trailed off.

  “The world has a way of surprising us all,” Michael pointed out.

  “We still get calls sometimes,” she continued, flicking through the folder. “People see figures on the tracks from time to time. It's pretty awful, we have to order all the trains to slow down while we wander along, looking for any sign of a trespasser. Sometimes we catch someone, but most of the time there's no-one around. Those are the hardest ones, really. You never know whether it was a false alarm, or whether some poor sod just ran off because they got disturbed.” Reaching the end of the folder, she turned back to the start and found various old forms. “It's the creepiest thing.”

  “I'm sure I've got Rose Booth's number somewhere,” Michael continued, making his way over to the filing cabinet behind her.

  “It's okay if you don't. I can probably get it some other way.”

  “No, I promise.” He opened the cabinet and glanced at the back of her head for a moment, as she continued to look through the folder. “I'll find it.”

  “There's -” She stopped suddenly, spotting a name on one of the forms. “Patricia Booth,” she said finally.

  “What's that?” he asked, going through the cabinet's top drawer.

  “Patricia Booth,” she said again, turning to him. “That's the name of the woman who went missing. Her nieces came to the station to file a report but, well, anything to do with Marshall Heights tends to get ignored. How did you end up with some of her papers?”

  “I have no idea,” he replied cautiously. “I guess one of them must have left it here.”

  “Huh.” Turning back to look through the folder, the police officer reached the first of the pages where a meticulous set of records had been kept, noting every train on the line and every figure that had been spotted. “She was very thorough, wasn't she? I looked into the records this morning, and it turns out that Patricia Booth was the woman who called to report a woman on the tracks on the night of the crash. Small world.”

  “Yes,” Michael replied, staring at the back of her head as he reached into his pocket and felt the blade of his knife. “It is.”

  Seven

  “I've been here before,” Rose said as she and Toby stopped in front of the door to flat 313. “The people in there, they're kind of loud. They argue a lot.”

  “There isn't anyone in there,” he replied, reaching out and turning the handle. A faint click could be heard from the other side, before the door creaked open. “Not right now.”

  “Hey,” she said, reaching out and grabbing the door, “we can't just go inside.”

  “What's the time?” he asked.

  She checked her watch. “It's almost ten at night. Shouldn't you be getting home?”

  He stared ahead for a moment, before pushing the door all the way open.

  “I'm allowed out,” he said finally, taking a step forward.

  “Hey!” she hissed, watching as he walked into the flat. “Who lives here?”

  “You'll see.”

  She watched as he took a few more steps forward, and finally he stopped in the hallway and turned back to her. There was a strange, knowing look in his eyes, as if he knew exactly what to expect and he wanted to see her reaction.

  “Don't you want to come in?” he asked.

  Looking down at the laptop screen, she saw that all the graphs and readings seemed to be normal.

  “This is the last place I saw your sister,” he continued. “She was right in here.”

  Making her way into the flat, Rose immediately felt a cold chill, as if the temperature inside was much lower than the open-air walkway. She told herself that she was just letting herself get spooked, but at the same time she could tell that the sudden drop in temperature was extreme.

  “So who lives here now?” she asked.

  Ignoring the question, Toby made his way through to the front room.

  “Hey,” Rose continued, hurrying after him. “Who lives here now?”

  “She does,” he replied, pointing at the far corner.

  Looking over at the corner, Rose saw no-one.

  “Her name is Jennifer,” Toby explained. “She's really nice once you talk to her, but she can be a bit weird sometimes. She's scared. She's one of them, she comes through all the time. At 3am, you can usually see her. The rest of the time, it's harder for her.”

  “Jennifer?” Rose replied, stepping forward but still not seeing anyone in the dark corner. “Tell me about Jennifer.”

  “Her father used to hurt her,” he continued. “I remember when she was alive, everyone used to know what was happening. They could hear him hurting her, but no-one ever came to knock on the door. If someone had tried to do something, maybe things would have been different.” He paused, staring at the corner as if he could see someone. “I don't blame her for killing him,” he added finally. “I think she was strong to wait for so long, and she knew what he was doing to other people. And then no-one helped her, so she...”

  His voice trailed off.

  Outside, a train could be heard passing the building.

  “Sometimes,” he continued, “I think that when something like this happens, it tears at the barrier even more and makes it weaker. That's why she finds it easier than the others to come through. It's 10pm, so the barrier is already getting weaker. By three in the morning, it'll be at its weakest point and that's when you're most likely to be able to see her. Ghosts are everywhere, but most living people can only see them in the period around 3am, when the barrier's at its weakest and the gap between life and death is blurry.” He turned to Rose. “Your sister saw her.”

  “And she came here?”

  He nodded.

  “At three in the morning?”

  He nodded again.

  “And then what happened? Did the -”

  She stopped suddenly as she saw a faint glimmer of light in the corner. It wasn't much, just enough to catch her attention, and it was already gone by the time she looked over. Checking the laptop, she saw that one of the graphs had spiked briefly.

  “I think your sister was really nice,” Toby said, walking over to the corner. “She's one of the few people who opened their door for Jennifer. Almost everyone else just tried to ignore her. It was the same when she was alive.”

>   “What happened after Megan came in here?” Rose asked.

  Kneeling in the corner, Toby seemed to be looking at something that was beyond Rose's field of vision.

  “This was where she used to hide,” he said after a moment. “There used to be a sofa here, covering this corner, so she used to curl up into a ball and hope that he wouldn't notice her. I think he was drunk a lot, so maybe it was a good place for her to be, but eventually he'd always find her and...” He paused. “He comes through at three sometimes. I hear him. He's still angry, and when he's around, she still gets so scared. He wants to come through permanently, though. He wants a proper body again.”

  “Where's my sister?” Rose asked, struggling to stay calm. She looked back across the room, but all she saw was the flickering glow from the laptop's screen.

  “I don't know,” Toby replied, turning to her, “but she was in here and then she was gone. She might be in the dark place. And then a few days later, you showed up.”

  “I want to talk to her,” Rose told him. “Tell this Jennifer person that I want to ask her about Megan. I want to know what this dark place is all about.”

  “Can you hear her?” Toby asked.

  “What's she saying?”

  “Nothing. She's just sobbing.”

  “Why can you hear her?” she asked.

  “I don't know, but ever since...” He reached out, and for a moment he seemed to be touching something or someone that only he could see.

  “If I come back at 3am, will I be able to talk to her?” Rose asked.

  “Maybe, but -”

  “Then that's what I'll do,” she continued. “Tell her I'll come back at three in the morning.”

  “She heard you, but she says you shouldn't come.”

  “Are you kidding?” Rose replied. “There's nothing in the world that can keep me from coming back. If -”

  Before she could finish, she saw a look of concern in Toby's eyes, and a moment later he pulled back from the corner as if something was upsetting him.