The Spookshow: (Book 1)

by Tim McGregor

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

  Billie watched the houses pass by. “The dead woman I saw at the old house. She had been to Kaitlin’s apartment. I could feel her there.”

  “Oh,” Tammy said. “Maybe I didn’t want to know.”

  Billie pointed at something up ahead. “Just up here, where the picket fence is.”

  Tammy coasted to the curb and Billie looked up at Mockler’s house. “His car is in the driveway.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Tammy bent low to see the house on their port side. “He’s just gonna come help if you ask nicely?”

  “Yes. We go back to the old house. Find Kaitlin. Bring her home.” Billie clocked Tammy for her reaction. It wasn’t good. A visible shiver at the thought of going back. You and me both, she thought. “Listen, if you don’t want to come, I’ll understand. You can let me out here and go home. No judgement, no regret.”

  Tammy chewed her lip, her gaze held out over the dashboard at the quiet street. “I’m in. Whatever happens.”

  Billie needed to be sure. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. Or what we’ll find.”

  Tammy threw her door open. “Let’s just go. Before I change my mind.”

  They quick-stepped up the driveway and past the parked vehicle, their heels banging up the wooden steps.

  “What if he’s not here?” Tammy asked. “What if he’s gone down to the pub or something?”

  “Then we’ll think of something else.” Billie banged on the front door.

  Tammy gushed, unable to contain the fear bubbling up. “He has a girlfriend, doesn’t he? What if she answers the door?”

  “Just shut up.”

  A light switched on inside the house. A shadow loomed before the window in the door and then the door swung back. Billie sank an inch with relief upon seeing Mockler. The look on the detective’s face was the inverse; surprise, followed by confusion.

  “Billie?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m sorry to just show up like this,” she said sheepishly. “I couldn’t get through on the phone.”

  “It died on me.” He nodded a hello to Tammy before turning back to Billie. “What’s wrong?”

  “We need your help. Kaitlin’s in trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “It’s kind of a long story. Can I fill you in on the way?”

  “Yeah.” He waved at them to step inside. “Let me just grab my keys. Come on in.”

  Billie wavered. She didn’t want to go inside but Tammy stepped through and pulled her along. She followed the two of them into the kitchen. The house looked different from the last time she had been here, tidy and well kept but now it seemed in shambles. She noted the boxes stacked against the wall, furniture bound with bubble wrap and duct tape.

  Mockler moved through the kitchen in a haphazard fashion, as if he’d just woken up. He shrugged into his jacket and scooped his keys from the bowl on the counter. “How do you know your friend is in trouble?” he asked.

  “Her boyfriend called,” Tammy offered. “Said Kaitlin had come home but she was acting weird.”

  “Define weird,” he said. “Drunk? Exhausted? Guilty?”

  “Troubled,” Billie said. “Not herself.”

  Tammy filled in the rest. “And then someone broke into the apartment and took her.”

  That snapped his attention up sharp. “She was abducted?”

  “The place was trashed. Her boyfriend was unconscious.”

  “Jesus,” he said, patting his pockets for anything missed. “You called the police, right?”

  “They’re on their way.”

  “Then you need to go back,” he said. “You have to talk to the officers—”

  Billie cut him off. “We need to find Kaitlin first. She’s in danger.”

  “Okay. Where do we find her?”

  “The Murder House.”

  He stopped cold. “How do you know?”

  “Same reason we didn’t wait around for the police,” Billie said. “Will you help us?”

  “All right.” He nodded at something near her. “See that drawer behind you? There should be a flashlight in there. Grab it.”

  She found the light, tested it. It worked. “Did you bring your gun home?”

  “Yeah,” he answered, surprised by the question.

  “Will you bring it?”

  Reaching up into the cupboard, Mockler fetched his service issue and clipped the holster to his belt.

  Tammy lingered by the door, feeling a bit like a third wheel. She took in the mess of boxes and emptied shelves in the kitchen. Looking into a half-packed box on the chair, she said “Are you guys moving?”

  Mockler coughed. “Sort of.”

  Billie startled, as if seeing the signs of packing for the first time. “You’re moving out? Did you buy a new house?”

  “Something like that.” He nodded at the door. “Let’s go.”

  Tammy hustled for the porch. Billie held back, wondering why the detective was being so cagey about it. She could understand why they would look for a new home, after what went on in this house. She lowered her voice. “How come you didn’t tell me you were moving?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, marching for the front door. “It’s kind of complicated.”

  “What’s complicated? You buy a new house, move your stuff.” She pushed the screen door open. “You just didn’t want to tell me.”

  “Only one of us is moving out.” They came out onto the porch and he clicked his key fob to unlock his vehicle. “We’ll take my car. Get in.”

  This time it was Billie who stopped cold. “What?”

  “Come on,” Tammy hollered, opening the passenger door and jumping shotgun.

  Billie hustled to the car, irked at her friend. “I don’t want to sit in the back.”

  “Tough. Let’s go.” Tammy climbed in and shut the door.

  “Ray?” A voice called after them.

  All three of them looked up to see a woman standing on the porch, her arms folded over the thin robe. Christina.

  Christina leaned forward, trying to see who was getting into the car. “Where are you going?”

  “Give me a second,” Mockler said to Billie. He crossed back to the porch.

  Billie dropped into the backseat and closed the door. She watched Mockler stop at the bottom step and speak to Christina. With the car doors closed, she couldn’t hear anything.

  “Is that his girlfriend?” Tammy asked.

  “Yes.”

  “She’s pretty.”

  She was. Even clad in a man’s bathrobe and her hair a mess from getting out of bed. Billie hunkered low in the seat and wondered why it bothered her so. His words kept spinning around in her head. Which one of them was moving out? What had happened?

  “She’s like model-pretty,” Tammy went on.

  “Yeah. I get it.”

  Tammy turned around. “What’s eating you?”

  “Nothing.”

  They watched the pair talk for a moment longer and then Mockler returned to the car. The vehicle tilted as he dropped under the wheel and turned the ignition.

  Billie chewed her lip. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  Tammy looked at him. “Is your girlfriend wondering where you’re going with two girls in the car?”

  The car jerked as he backed out of the driveway and then jerked again as he gunned the engine. “Something like that,” he said.

  19

  “STOP HERE,” BILLIE said. “Don’t go up the driveway.”

  Mockler had turned onto the lonely road, the rear wheels fishtailing over the gravel before he accelerated again. The road ahead was dark.

  He eased off the pedal and looked over his shoulder at Billie in the backseat. “Why the hell not?”

  “Someone’s there,” she said. “Besides Kaitlin.

  The car rolled past the overgrown driveway and pulled to the shoulder. Mockler killed the headlights and all three of them
looked up at the dark shape of the old house jutting against the escarpment.

  Tammy spun around. “How do you know?”

  “Just my gut,” Billie answered.

  “Who?” Mockler watched the house. “How many?”

  “I don’t know. But roaring up there might spook them into doing something stupid.”

  Mockler studied the house, the driveway, the grounds about the old estate. No lights in any of the windows and no vehicles parked out front. Nothing had changed since the last time he had seen it.

  Billie threw her door open and climbed out. “What are we waiting for?

  “Billie, wait!” He shot a look at Tammy before going after her. “Stay in the car.”

  She was halfway up the driveway when he stopped her. “Billie, wait. You can’t go in there.”

  Billie pulled her elbow from his grip. “Kaitlin’s in there. And she’s in trouble.”

  “I’ll handle it. Just let me get some more officers here.” His phone had barely begun to recharge before he pulled the plug on it. Enough for one call before it died. It was all he needed.

  The crunch of gravel underfoot made them both turn. Tammy ran to catch up. “What are you waiting for?”

  “I told you to stay in the car,” he snarled at her. He pressed the phone to his ear and stepped away. “Nobody move.”

  “He’s calling in more police,” Billie said to Tammy.

  Tammy’s eyes lifted as she took in the expanse of the big house. Its dark windows seem to stare back at them. “Do you really think she’s in here?”

  Billie stared at the house also, as if trying to see through the limestone and mortar. “I know she is.”

  Mockler marched back, dropping his phone into a pocket. “There’s a patrol unit on its way.”

  “And what?” Billie spat. “We just wait for them?”

  “No. I wait for them. You’re going back to the car.”

  Billie threw her hands up and marched toward the house. “For Christ’s sakes, Mockler. We can’t wait any longer.”

  “Stop.” He snatched her arm again but, this time, refused to let go. “You said yourself someone else is in there. It’s not safe. The patrol will be here in a minute. Then I’ll go in with them.”

  “Are you scared?” Billie spun to him. “Is that it?”

  “I’m not letting you go in there if it’s not safe, Billie. Understand that.”

  She tugged her arm but he wasn’t letting go. “You’re hurting me.”

  “I’ll break your arm if I have to.”

  “Oh my God—” Tammy uttered. “Do you hear that?”

  Everyone held their breath. It was a scream. Muffled and distant, ringing off the walls from inside the house. A woman’s voice.

  “Kaitlin.” Billie ran for the entrance. She was yanked back hard.

  “Go back to the car! Now!” Mockler pushed Billie into Tammy and sprinted for the side door. Unsnapping the holster on his belt, he drew his sidearm and disappeared inside the house.

  Sensing that Billie was ready to bolt after the detective, Tammy hung on. “Don’t, Billie.”

  “We can’t just stand here.”

  “It’s his job,” Tammy barked, holding tight. “What are we gonna do in there? Get in his way?”

  Billie fumed. Tammy’s own words kept ringing through her head. This was her fault.

  The night air was quiet in the wooded rise of the escarpment. The noise of the city was dampened by the trees around them but a new sound lifted through, faint and far away. Police sirens in the distance.

  Her fault, she thought. Kaitlin was in danger from whatever evil was inside this foul building. Mockler was running headlong into danger he could not see. The thought of something bad happening to him was too much to bear.

  “Kaitlin needs us. They both do. Come on.” She yanked her arm free and marched for the door.

  Tammy didn’t move. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “I can’t go back in there,” Tammy said. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Billie.”

  The sight of the tears startled Billie. She had never seen Tammy cry before. Ever. She was still angry with Tammy but the tears cut the legs out from under Billie’s ire.

  “When the cops come, show them which way we went in.” Billie turned and raced for the door.

  ~

  Crunching over the grit on the floor, her footsteps seemed impossibly loud no matter how soft she tried to tread. The corridor ahead was empty and dark. There was no sign of Mockler. Billie whispered his name but that echoed louder than her footsteps. She was right on his tail, she thought. Where could he be?

  Stalking further inside the house, she noticed a dull light glowing up ahead where the hallway intersected with another. Peeking around the next corner revealed the source of the light. Candles on the floor, lit and running the length of the corridor like an airport runway. She listened for a moment but there was no sound. She followed the path of candles to where it ended. The door to the cellar stood open. More candles tapering on the steps, leading the way down.

  Of course it led to the basement, she sighed. It had to. Mockler would have followed the candlelit path down. It took a moment to wind up her courage and plunge down the steps. There were more candles down here, lighting a path through the clutter of broken furniture on the floor. All the way down to the chamber ahead where all the awful things had happened.

  Billie clenched her teeth. Since returning to the old house, she had kept herself closed to the dead. She didn’t want the distraction. She wasn’t here to communicate with the spirits or listen to their tales of tragedy. She was here to find Kaitlin and get out. It wasn’t enough. Even with her senses closed, the lost souls trapped inside this terrible place caught wind of her. They drifted in from the shadows or lifted straight out of the floor, circling around her. A man with blackened teeth snarled at her, threatening to kill her while a woman in a maid’s uniform pleaded to Billie for help, shrieking that she was trapped in this house and could not leave.

  “Go away,” Billie hissed. “I can’t help you.”

  The dead gnashed their teeth as Billie clenched up, closing off as much as she could. The phantoms withdrew and when their wails died away, a new sound lifted from the darkness ahead. Voices, low and rumbling from the chamber ahead.

  Chanting.

  The sound of it triggered some primal fear in her, that droning intonation of voices murmuring from the darkness. She wanted to run.

  She whispered Mockler’s name again. No reply, no signal that he was here. She wouldn’t be so scared if she knew he was down here. What if he was in some other part of the house?

  Forcing herself on, she pushed forward along the path until something on the floor caught her eye. Dark and solid in the low light. She retrieved the nearest candle and brought it close.

  Mockler’s gun lay on the cold stone floor.

  20

  BILLIE LIFTED THE gun from the floor and held it gingerly, as if it was a fragile thing. She had never fired a gun and kept her fingers away from the trigger piece, worried it might go off in her hand.

  “Mockler!” she hissed.

  She didn’t expect a reply. The chanting in the next room grew louder.

  She couldn’t do this alone. With Kaitlin already in danger and now Mockler in trouble, there was no way she could save them both. She wasn’t cut out for this. Why hadn’t the police arrived yet?

  Something shuffled in the darkness ahead. She took a step back, lifting a candle to see.

  A dark figure doubled over on the floor. The detective.

  “Ray,” she hissed as she ran to him. “What happened?”

  He flinched at her touch, as if jolted. When he looked up, his face was pale and sweaty.

  “Easy,” she cooed. “It’s just me. Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know what happened.” His words were slow and strained. “I got sick.”

  “It’ll pass.” She rubbed his back, unsure
of what else to do. “Just ride it out.”

  He swiped his forearm over his mouth. “It just came out of nowhere.”

  “It’s her. The woman who first lived here.”

  “She’s dead,” he grumbled.

  “I know. She wants something.” Billie held the gun out to him. “You dropped this.”

  “Christ.” He took the weapon from her and turned it to one side. The safety was still on. “Brilliant move, huh?”

  “Can you stand?”

  Mockler got to his feet slowly. His face looked green in the candlelight as he cocked his ear to hear something. “What’s that noise?”

  “Chanting.”

  Twenty paces on loomed the doorway to the larger chamber, framed with a glow from the other side. Beyond it, the source of the chanting voices.

  Mockler shook the fog from his head and turned to her. “Billie—”

  “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t tell me to go back outside. Not now.”

  The force in her eyes vouched the fight he’d have on his hands if he insisted. He exhaled loudly. “Stay behind me. And stay quiet.”

  They edged onward, single file, until they gained the doorway. Mockler leaned forward, then he waved her in to take a look. Clutching his arm, she snaked around him.

  The chamber was lit with the guttering light from dozens of candles. Hovering in the centre of the room were six figures. Dark and amorphous at first until Billie saw the black robes they wore, their faces hidden under the folds of dark hoods. The figures swayed as they chanted around the pentagram on the floor. Five were positioned over the points of the star but the last stood near the pit at the centre. Like contours conjured out of a nightmare, the hooded figures chanted on, enthralled in some ritual.

  It took a moment before Billie clocked the seventh individual among the congregants. Splayed on the floor near the pit was the form of a woman, naked and cold to the world. The hooded figure hovering over her held a long knife or sword that reflected the candlelight in the patina of its broad blade.

  Billie jerked back behind the door-frame and pulled Mockler after her. “Kaitlin. That’s her on the floor.”

  “Quiet,” he said, jamming his fingers against her lips.

  She knocked his hand away. “They’re going to kill her. Did you see the knife they have?”