The Lost Ones

by Ben Cheetham

  Seth broke off. More silence. ‘Still not convinced. Let’s have one more try.’ He read from a third letter. ‘I have met another woman. She means nothing to me, but if you will not have me I will give her the life I could have given you. She will live like a queen. Whatever she wants, she will have.’

  A sick-sounding, ‘What do you want?’ came over the line.

  Seth had already pondered that question long and hard. ‘A million pounds.’

  ‘You must be mad!’

  ‘One million or the letters will be all over the Internet by this time next week.’

  There was another heavy silence. The man spoke again, curiosity competing with shock for ascendancy. ‘Has she put you up to this?’ He said ‘she’ with a sort of bitter longing, like a reformed alcoholic thinking about reaching for the bottle.

  A telling tightness came into Seth’s voice that the box didn’t entirely filter out. ‘You’ve got twenty-four hours to get the money together.’

  ‘Or is it you? Are you her?’

  ‘I’ll be in contact again tomorrow. Any funny business and I’ll make your life a living hell.’

  ‘Wait! I’m going to need more—’

  Seth hung up and turned off the phone. He flopped onto the bed, his heart racing. The wheel was in motion. There was no stopping it now. It was a strange feeling. Like the touch of Holly’s hand, it left him both fearful and aroused. It occurred to him suddenly what he’d missed when Holly said, I might sleep at the Town Hall. Or . . . Or! She’d been angling for an invite to his room, perhaps just to sleep, maybe for something more. The realisation sent a surge of blood to his groin. He unbuttoned his trousers and began to masturbate.

  Afterwards he fell into a fitful doze. His dreams were a jumble of Erin Jackson and Holly. He was saying something, but his voice was robotic and garbled. The more he tried to make himself understood, the blanker their faces became. With shrugs of incomprehension, they walked away from him.

  DAY 1

  10.44 P.M.

  Tom pulled into the driveway, but didn’t turn off the engine. The street was empty. The journalists seemed to have gone home for the moment too. He stared at Erin’s bedroom window. It was well past her bedtime. Whenever he returned home late from work – which had been more often than not recently – if Erin was awake she would call to him from her bed, ‘Daddy, I need a kiss goodnight!’ And he would go to her, kiss her cheek and say, I love you. Now go to sleep.

  At Amanda’s touch on his wrist, he flinched and said, ‘I don’t know if I can face seeing her empty room.’

  ‘I feel the same way, Tom, but we’ve got another child who needs us.’

  He reluctantly removed the ignition key. As if he was wearing stone boots, he approached the front door. Cathy emerged from the house, looking at them hopefully. Her face sank when she saw their expressions. ‘Nothing?’

  Amanda shook her head.

  ‘But I heard that search dogs had—’

  ‘Please, Mum, I’m too tired to talk about it right now. How’s Jake?’

  ‘He hasn’t been out of his room since you left. I took him up something to eat.’ Cathy’s gaze moved beyond her daughter as the Mini pulled into view. Henry got out and trudged towards them.

  ‘Oh, Henry, you look completely exhausted,’ said Cathy.

  Henry mustered up a small smile. ‘I’m fine, darling. I just need something to eat.’

  Cathy rolled her eyes apologetically. ‘I should have thought to make something. I’ll do it now.’

  She turned to go back into the house, but Amanda said, ‘It’s OK, Mum. You and Dad head home. He’ll get a better rest there than here.’

  Cathy’s perfectly plucked eyebrows drew together. ‘But, darling, we wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone at a time like this.’

  Amanda pointedly took Tom’s hand in hers. ‘I’m not alone. I know you only want to help, but I think we could all do with a moment to catch our breath.’

  ‘You’re right, darling,’ said Henry. He leaned in to kiss Amanda’s cheek, adding, ‘Although hopefully we won’t get much chance for a rest.’ He afforded Tom a glance and a nod before returning to the Mini.

  Cathy kissed Amanda too and dispensed a look that said, Stay strong. She gave Tom the briefest of pecks.

  Tom followed Amanda into the house and closed the door. Silence. He’d been briefly distracted by his relief at Henry and Cathy’s departure. But the silence brought it all crashing down on him again like a tonne of concrete. He dropped heavily onto the bottom step of the stairs. ‘I love her so much,’ he cried, hugging his arms across himself.

  Amanda laid her hand on the top of his head. He grasped it and pulled it down to cover his eyes, sobs shaking his shoulders.

  ‘Jake will hear you,’ said Amanda.

  ‘What do I have to do to get her back?’ Tom yelled as if talking to someone only he could see. ‘Just tell me and I’ll do it.’

  ‘Please, Tom. I don’t want Jake upset any more than he already is.’

  ‘Jake.’ Tom said his son’s name in a voice like a warning. He clutched the banister and hauled himself upright.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Amanda asked worriedly as he started up the stairs.

  Tom made no reply. She caught hold of his arm, but he shrugged her off and stalked towards the attic.

  DAY 1

  10.45 P.M.

  Jake Googled ‘Ingham murders Middlebury paranormal activity’. A page of links came up. The top one was for the Northumberland Society for Paranormal Investigation. Underneath the website’s name was ‘The Ingham Case. The evidence for paranormal activity at a house in Middlebury where an infamous double murder took place.’ He clicked the link and was taken to a page with a picture of the dilapidated Ingham house at its top. Underneath was a grainy photo of the Ingham family outside the house as it had been in the seventies – grim grey walls, well-kept garden. Elijah and Joanna Ingham were standing behind their daughters. Elijah was dressed in a navy-blue suit and matching tie. He had a sharp, stern face with a moustache and whiskers, like some Victorian throwback. Joanna was equally unsmiling with bobbed brown hair and a long floral dress that at least added a splash of colour. The sisters were wearing identical pastel-green knee-length dresses, long white socks and shiny black shoes. Their shoulder-length mousey hair was clipped to one side. They reminded Jake of the spooky twin sisters from one of his favourite films – The Shining – although Rachel was a head taller than Mary. She was plumper too with pale round cheeks and almost cartoonishly big doe eyes. In contrast, Mary had neat little features and a definite gleam of mischief in her eyes. The photo was dated May 1972. Almost three months before the murders.

  A legal disclaimer beneath the photos read, ‘Please note: this report was submitted to us anonymously. We are unable to verify its authenticity. No members of this society took part in the investigation described below.’ Then came ‘External temp and weather conditions: 16°C, dry and overcast with a light wind from the north-west.’ This was followed by a table giving internal temperatures. ‘Basement: 10°C. Ground floor: 13°C. First floor: 13°C. Attic: 15°C.’ Finally there was a description of the investigation. ‘We arrived after dark due to being unable to obtain permission from the owner of the property. Entrance was gained through a broken window at the rear of the house. EMF readings were taken, which displayed abnormally high levels of static electricity in the ground-floor rear living room and the kitchen. In all other areas the readings were normal.’

  Jake opened up a separate tab and Googled ‘EMF readings’. A website explained what he was already vaguely aware of – EMF stood for electromagnetic fields. The theory was that ghosts emitted an electromagnetic field that could be detected by EMF meters. He returned to the paranormal society website and the scientifically dry report.

  Night vision cameras were set up in the living room, kitchen, basement and on the first-floor landing. At 10.45 p.m. (approximately the time the murders of Elijah and Joanna Ingham are believed to have tak
en place) we held a seance in an attempt to contact any spirits in the house. During the seance, we were able to document several instances of paranormal phenomena. Spikes were recorded in ground-floor EMF readings and some electrical items showed signs of interference: wristwatches stopped working; mobile-phone signals were interrupted. However, our specialist equipment continued to work normally. At the same time, the ground-floor temperature dropped to 11°C. There was also an unexplained bang from the attic.

  Jake glanced at the chicks, thinking maybe the noise wasn’t all that difficult to explain. The two tiny balls of fluff still hadn’t moved since he’d brought them home. Every ten or twenty minutes, he’d been feeling for their heartbeats. The last time he’d checked both were alive. But their grip on life seemed as tenuous and uncertain as Erin’s fate. His gaze returned to the text.

  At 11.23 p.m., ten minutes after we finished the seance, two team members standing where Elijah and Joanna Ingham were killed experienced odd prickling sensations in their heads (Elijah and Joanna Ingham died from strikes to their heads). Approximately five minutes later a small pulsating ball of white light materialised in the living room. The ball travelled along the hallway and up the stairs to the first-floor landing. It entered the second room on the right (Rachel Ingham’s bedroom) before dropping out of sight in the centre of the floor. At the same moment a loud scream that could be identified as neither male nor female echoed throughout the house.

  Jake thought of the childlike scream the rook had made.

  This phenomenon was recorded by two of our cameras that were later confiscated by the police. Unfortunately, when the cameras were returned to us they showed signs of having been deliberately damaged to such an extent that we were unable to access the recordings.

  It was all too convenient that such compelling evidence had been damaged, reflected Jake. But, at the same time, it was undeniably curious that the ball of light had disappeared where the rectangular red object was lodged under the floorboards. What could it mean? Could it be some kind of sign? Had the light been trying to point the ghost hunters towards something?

  Jake jerked upright at a sobbing shout from downstairs. He couldn’t make out the words, but the pain was plain to hear. Erin! he thought with a plummeting sensation. They’ve found her and she’s dead!

  He started towards the door but hesitated. What if he was right? Did he really want to know? He suddenly felt like diving under the duvet. He shook his head forcefully. He wasn’t a little kid any more. He was almost sixteen. If he was right, his parents would need him. It was time to suck up his fear and be there for them. He hurried downstairs, stopping abruptly at the sight of his dad ascending towards him. His dad’s face seemed more stricken by rage than grief. His mum wasn’t far behind. Her lips moved as if mouthing a silent warning.

  Tom paused a beat at Jake’s new hairstyle – chopped short above the ears and clumsily combed into a parting – before demanding to know, ‘Why didn’t you go walking with your mum and sister?’

  ‘What . . . I . . .’ stammered Jake. He’d never seen such anger in his dad’s eyes.

  ‘I want an answer! Why didn’t you go?’

  Jake shied away with a shrug. ‘I didn’t feel like it.’

  ‘You didn’t feel like it,’ Tom echoed contemptuously.

  Jake looked to his mum for help. ‘Where’s Erin?’

  Before Amanda could reply, Tom exploded, ‘She’d be here with us if you’d done as you were bloody well told!’

  Jake blinked as tears threatened his eyes. Was his dad right? Was this his fault?

  ‘That’s not true,’ exclaimed Amanda.

  ‘How do you know?’ Tom shot back at her.

  ‘I suppose I can’t know for sure. How can anyone know something like that?’

  ‘I’ll tell you what I do know.’ He stabbed an accusatory finger at her. ‘You should have been keeping an eye on Erin. Just what did you think you were doing looking at the scenery while God knows what happened to our daughter?’

  Amanda stiffened as if she’d been hit. ‘I could just as easily say that if you’d paid more attention to your family this wouldn’t be happening.’

  ‘Everything I’ve ever done is for the good of this family.’

  Amanda gave him a who are you kidding look. ‘And money. Let’s not forget the great god money.’

  A scowl twisted Tom’s lips. ‘It’s so easy for you, isn’t it? All your life, all you’ve ever had to do is go crying to Mummy and Daddy if you need anything. It’s because of parasites like them that my mother was dead at fifty.’

  ‘Oh, listen to the working-class hero.’ Amanda’s voice was thick with sarcasm. ‘You know what, Tom. No matter how much money you make, you’ll never be anything but a pathetic little man.’

  Tom’s eyes swelled as if they would pop out of their sockets. He raised his hand to slap Amanda.

  ‘Leave her alone!’ cried Jake, grabbing his dad’s wrist.

  Tom whipped his arm backwards, catching Jake a hard knuckle-slap across the jaw. Jake staggered against the wall. There was a moment of stunned silence in which father and son stared at each other as if neither could believe what had happened. Then, pushing past his parents, Jake ran downstairs. Tom shook his head like someone waking from a dream and called after him, ‘Jake, I’m sorry!’

  Jake snatched up his boots and sprinted out of the front door. As he reached the pavement, his dad called again, ‘I’m sorry, Jake! Please, I didn’t mean any of it.’

  Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his dad in the doorway. Jake shoved up his middle finger and darted across the road.

  DAY 1

  10.57 P.M.

  Leave him be,’ Amanda said sharply, coming up behind Tom. ‘You’ll just make things worse.’

  He turned to her, his eyes glistening. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Amanda slammed the door. ‘Oh, shut up, Tom. I don’t want to hear it.’

  ‘Please, Amanda.’ He followed as she stalked into the living room. ‘I don’t know what came over me. That wasn’t me.’

  ‘Wasn’t it?’ Amanda snatched up a gin bottle and poured herself a large measure.

  ‘You know it wasn’t. It’s this situation. I feel like I’m going out of my mind.’

  ‘You and me both,’ muttered Amanda.

  Tom tentatively laid his hand on her back. She whirled to glare at him. He retreated from the venom in her voice as she said, ‘I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that you tried to blame Jake for this nightmare or that you hit him. I’ll tell you this, though, if you raise your hand to any of us again, I’ll leave you. Do you understand?’

  ‘It’ll never happen again. I promise.’

  Amanda stared at him as if trying to decide whether to believe him. She dropped wearily into an armchair. Tom lowered himself onto the sofa. They sat unspeaking, the silence broken only by the taunting tick of the mantelpiece clock. Amanda finished her drink and rose to pour herself another.

  ‘Do you think that’s a good—’ Tom started to say.

  She cut him off with a cold glance.

  More silence. The clock ticked remorselessly on. With every passing second, Tom could almost physically feel Erin getting further away from him. When she was a toddler it had been as if she was attached to him by an invisible cord. Outside the house, she’d never stray more than ten metres from his side. Over the years, the cord had naturally grown longer. But now it was as if it were being unnaturally stretched towards the point where it would tear loose, taking his heart with it.

  Tom pressed a hand to his chest as if swearing an oath. ‘All I want is to give my family what they deserve.’

  ‘And what’s that? A bigger house? I love this house.’

  ‘So did I when we moved in. But that was over fifteen years ago.’ Tom made an onwards motion. ‘I need to keep moving forwards.’

  ‘Why? Was it really so bad where you came from?’

  Tom thought of the damp, drab farmhouse. He thought of early mornings out in th
e fields, shoulders hunched against biting wind and rain. And he thought of long nights spent pulling lambs from their mothers’ wombs, nostrils stinging from the hot sour smell of urine and blood. But most of all, he thought of the way the years had worn his parents down to shadows of themselves. ‘It was for me.’

  ‘Then why stay in Middlebury? Why didn’t you leave when you had the chance? And don’t you dare say it was for me, because I would have gone anywhere in the world with you.’

  ‘Maybe it was because you’re right,’ Tom said bitterly. ‘Maybe I’m just a pathetic little man.’

  Shaking her head sadly, Amanda rose and left the room. This time he didn’t follow. Tiredness washed over him as he leaned his head against the sofa. The clock hammered in his ears. He jumped up, yanked out its battery and returned to the sofa. His gaze slowly travelled the room where Amanda had told him she was pregnant – on both occasions – where the children had taken their first steps, where they’d all spent countless evenings watching TV, playing games or just chatting. This house was supposed to be his family’s cocoon. The place where no harm ever came to them. He closed his eyes which were awash with shame.

  DAY 1

  10.59 P.M.

  Jake kept running until he was sure his dad wasn’t following. He stopped to pull on his boots. His jaw was throbbing. He ran a finger around the inside of his mouth. Its tip glistened with blood. Tears pushed up behind his eyes again as he replayed the moment his dad had hit him. It seemed almost surreal. His dad had a bitch of a temper. He’d shout, once or twice he’d even thrown stuff around. But hit him? No, never – at least not until now. And that wasn’t the worst of it. He could forgive the slap. Put it down to the stress of the situation. But he wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive the bastard for trying to blame him for Erin’s disappearance.