Army of Angels

by Marcus Brown

  Using her left hand to cradle her injured arm, she ran as fast as her feet could carry her. Heading for the road, she almost lost her balance.

  Hilary reached the side of the house and turned back.

  She watched as Sandra tried to restrain him. The boy was strong as he shook her off with ease. The cats circled and began their attack. He grabbed one and the cat screamed as Adam tore it in half. Blood sprayed from the cat’s body. Even in the moonlight, she could see the blood dripping off his face. Adam wiped at the blood then put his fingers into his mouth.

  She could tell he wanted to lick the blood from his fingers, but he had no tongue with which to do so. He appeared mesmerised by the blood and she was safe.

  She looked down at her arm and felt queasy. Blood dripped onto the ground. White hot pain coursed through her and feeling light headed she grabbed the wall as Sandra’s cries rang out. “Run.”

  Without looking back, she sprinted up the side of the house and ran through the open main gates and didn’t stop until she reached her car. She opened the door and slid into her seat, pressing the automatic lock button.

  Hilary sat in the chair, frozen with terror. She was trying desperately to regulate her breathing, doing her best to shut out the immense pain she was feeling.

  She grabbed her sweater from the passenger seat and wrapped it around her wounded arm, shut her eyes and sat in silence for a few minutes, feeling calmer. She had to get to the hospital but was concerned about driving with only one hand. You can do it.

  She opened her eyes. Adam was standing right next to the car, his grotesque blood-soaked face pressed up against the glass on the driver’s side.

  His fingers were splayed out on the glass. She screamed.

  She knew he was trying to speak, but the sounds he made were terrifying. He slobbered against the window as she tried and failed to find the ignition.

  Her hands shook so badly she wasn’t sure she could drive, but she had to get away from there and get help for Sandra.

  Adam began to bang on the window. “Hil-ly.” Was he saying her name?

  “Go away, please,” Hilary screamed, terrified. She found the ignition but struggled to get the car started.

  She needed to steady her hand.

  Adam continued to bang on the car window. “Hil-ly.” His tone was flat, and she knew without a tongue, he wouldn’t be able to form the words properly.

  She tried not to look at him and focused on starting the car.

  Finally, she managed to start the car.

  Adrenaline took over and she rammed the car into gear, accelerating away.

  The car engine screamed in protest, but she didn’t care–she had to get away. She could see Adam watching as the car roared up the lane.

  Pain was creeping up her arm. The adrenaline subsided, and she knew she had to get to the hospital before she passed out.

  Hilary made it to the hospital and rushed into the casualty department. She’d tightened the jumper around the open wound to try and stem the bleeding, but she’d endured all she could. She walked towards the reception and gripped it with her good hand as one of the nurses took one look at her and rushed over as Hilary slid to the floor.

  “You’re okay, lovey,” the rosy cheeked nurse said kindly. “What’s your name?”

  “Hilary Baines,” She whispered before succumbing to the blackness.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Andrew Hope was sat at his desk completely perplexed. The fingerprints taken at the hospital had come back inconclusive and he wasn’t sure what to do, and which was the best way forward.

  Adam Lee had been missing for three days now, and his family had been calling non-stop.

  The press had got wind of the story and had been camped outside the police station ever since. They were crucifying him daily, his face splashed across the front pages. “Chief Inspector Chucky indeed.” That was the nickname bestowed on him by News Group UK.

  The Chief Constable had hauled him over the coals for the lack of progress on the case–missing kids caused the worst form of publicity, but a missing child whose brother was murdered the year before was a journalist’s wet dream and they’d taken a swipe at the whole department over the lack of arrests pertaining to the cases involved.

  He chafed his temples, feeling the headache creeping on–he had nothing to go on. No suspects, no leads, nothing.

  His partner, Janet Monroe, was on maternity leave for another seven months and for now, he was saddled with Eve Wiltshire.

  He couldn’t stand the jumped up, arse-licking bitch.

  Wiltshire wasn’t a patch on Monroe and he couldn’t wait to be shut of her. She was fucking useless in his opinion and he questioned who she’d shagged to get the promotion.

  Promised Land Lane had been the bane of his existence since Dean Lewis had been found after Rachel Lang’s disappearance. He was still feeling the heat over it. The chief was rather fond of telling him more could have been done to get a statement–conveniently forgetting Dean was ‘away with the fairies’ as the old saying went.

  Thus far, he had a teenage girl missing for twenty years, a murdered kid and blood found belonging to Rachel Lang All these events linked by an old house and stupid ghost stories. A missing journalist working on the story added fuel to the fire–her phone was found there, and the place was a mess, blown out windows to boot. And then, if that wasn’t bad enough, the journalist’s estranged husband is killed in a road accident. He looked at his case notes, trying to find something, anything that would help him solve the mess this case had become. It reads like a horror film script and he wondered if he’d walk away from the case with his job or position intact, let alone his pension. Even a million-pound reward offered by Tony Marshall, CEO of News Group UK, had failed to procure any new leads. Yes, there were the usual cranks, but nothing concrete to go on and the case was still wide open with no hope of solving it any time soon.

  Forensics had turned the property upside down and come up with nothing.

  Sandra Miller’s phone had been tracked there, but there was no physical sign of her. Her bank accounts hadn’t been touched and it seemed she’d disappeared without trace–another one to add to the seemingly growing list. He’d questioned the new owner of number six and found her to be charming, snooty and totally disinterested in the goings on over the last twenty odd years. She’d been courteous enough to allow his team access to the house and gardens at first, but after the team’s third visit, she had run out of patience and complained to the Chief Constable and the Commissioner. His knuckles were well and truly rapped with an order to stay far away from the lane.

  Now the Lee kid had vanished into thin air, he wanted more than ever to return. The kid’s doctor said he may have gone back to the place his brother was murdered, but he doubted it. He knew in his gut the kid was dead–it was always the same. If they weren’t found within twenty-four hours, the odds were stacked against them turning up alive.

  He sat and thought about Jeanette Lee and his heart went out to her. Losing one child would be bad enough, but two was beyond comprehension.

  He jumped as the phone on his desk rang. “Hope speaking.”

  “Hello. It’s Sandra Miller’s friend, Hilary Baines. I’m sorry to trouble you, but I need to talk with you urgently.”

  “Ah yes, Mrs Baines. What can I do for you?”

  “You told me to call you if I heard anything from Sandra.”

  “And do you have any news?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen her.”

  He silently thanked whatever God was shining luck down on him and leant forward in his chair. Finally, some good news about this wretched case. “And when was this?”

  “Two nights ago. I would have called you sooner, but...” He could hear the nerves in her voice and interrupted.

  “Where was this?”

  “Number six Promised Land Lane.

  Andrew rolled his eyes and breathed out. It really was too good to be true. His heart sank to the pit of his stoma
ch. Another nutcase obsessed with that hellish place.

  “Mrs Baines, forgive me, but we’ve been through this before, many, many times. Sandra Miller is not at Promised Land Lane.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “You know better than most that we’ve searched the house and the garden multiple times. We’ve even sent a team down the well, and she is not there.”

  “She is–I swear it.”

  “May I call you Hilary?” he asked.

  “Go for your life.”

  “Hilary. I know she was your best friend and you miss her. I understand all that and feel for you, but the Chief Constable is hopping mad already and there’s no way he’ll allow me to go back there again. Juliet Oswell nearly hauled us through the courts for harassment after the last time.”

  “She’s in on it. Don't you see that? She’s got that little boy that went missing too.”

  “Hilary. That’s a serious accusation you’re making.”

  “It’s not an accusation. It's the absolute truth. I’ve seen him. He crawled out of the well. I saw him with my own eyes.”

  Andrew wasn’t in the mood to deal with any more lunatics connected to the lane. “All right. Leave it with me.” He was humouring her. “I’ll talk to my boss and determine where we go to from here.”

  “You can’t go there alone, not with that kid there.”

  “I won’t go on my own, don’t worry.”

  He could hear the sigh of relief down the phone.

  “Where are you now, Hilary?”

  “I’m at St. Anne’s Hospital.”

  His curiosity was piqued. “What are you doing there?”

  “That kid attacked me, snapped my arm. Broken in three places. It’s a right mess. I had to have surgery on it yesterday.”

  “And how did you manage that?”

  “Aren’t you listening to me? I just told you, the kid did it.”

  “You’re telling me that Adam Lee attacked you?”

  “Yes, the kid who went missing from the psychiatric hospital.”

  You’ll be lucky if you don’t end up in the same place, he thought to himself.

  His headache was getting worse by the second. His boss would put him on leave if he went to him with any of this, but if he didn’t and there was even the slightest truth to some of it, he’d be back on traffic duties until he retired.

  “Hilary, leave me to deal with this please. I’ll hang up now and go speak with my boss. When are you being discharged?”

  “Three o’clock this afternoon.”

  “Okay. What ward are you on?”

  “Ward fifty-six.”

  “Is your husband coming to take you home?”

  “No. Tim and I are having some time apart.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll be there for three and drive you home. Don’t leave without me.” It wasn’t a request.

  “Okay. I’ll wait for you.” She exhaled. “Andrew. I know you think I’m mad, but I’m telling you the truth and need you to believe me.”

  “I’ll be there for three. Look after yourself.”

  He stared at the receiver unsure of what to do for the best.

  He knew he had to go to his boss, but how was he going to tell the Chief what he’d just been told?

  Andrew left his office and walked down the corridor. His boss was in the large office at the end. He tapped on the door and the familiar deep voice answered. “Come in.”

  “Sir, sorry to disturb you, but can I bend your ear for a few minutes?”

  “I haven’t got long, Andrew, but bend away.”

  “We’ve had a sighting of Sandra Miller and Adam Lee.”

  “Thank God for that. We’re getting more shit for this case than anything I’ve seen in forty years on the force.”

  “It’s not quite as cut and dry as you think, though, Sir.”

  Andrew could see the excitement fade from his boss’ face. “Let’s hear it.”

  “I’ve just had a phone call from Hilary Baines. She’s presently a patient at St. Anne’s Hospital and says she’s seen both of them in the last few days. She claims the Lee boy attacked her and that Juliet Oswell is behind it all.”

  The Chief angrily picked up his telephone. “Doreen. Cancel everything in the diary for the remainder of the day and send my apologies.” He slammed the phone down and Andrew knew what was coming.

  “You need to get Mrs Baines into the station and caution her for wasting police time. We can’t accuse Juliet Oswell of anything else. She wasn’t even in the country when Sarah Brown went missing all those years ago, and there’s no evidence to suggest she had anything to do with the recent… er, troubles there.”

  “I know all that, Sir, but don’t you find it odd the woman is distantly related to the same family that lived there in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s?”

  “Odd in what way, Hope? People often return home to roost to where it’s familiar. Nothing suspicious about it at all.”

  “I know everything about this case is confusing, but I believe Miss Oswell knows more than she is letting on.”

  “Don’t mess with her, Hope. She has more money than God and could finish both of our careers, and I’m not ready to retire just yet. You know what happened last time you annoyed her.”

  “So, what do you suggest I do? Our investigation can’t be hindered because of some snooty rich bitch.”

  “I suggest you run and see Miss Oswell, but tread very carefully. Butter her up and make out you’re only keeping her in the loop. We’ve got no chance of securing a search warrant based on the rantings of a woman who believes in ghosts.”

  “Right you are, Sir. I’ll head over there after I’ve collected Hilary from the hospital.”

  “We’re not a taxi service, Hope.”

  “I wanted to get to her before she decides to head back to the lane, or worse still, speaks to the papers.” Andrew knew mentioning the papers would bring him crashing back to reality.

  “Good idea. Keep me informed and think on… tread very carefully. Neither one of us can afford any more bad publicity. Am I clear, Chief Inspector Chucky?”

  “Crystal.” Andrew was pissed off with the snarky remark. He slammed the door behind him and made his way to the car park.

  “Sorry I’m late, Hilary. I got out on the wrong floor. Are you ready to go?” He looked at the plaster cast on her arm.

  “Yes. All good to go now. Thanks for coming to collect me, but I could have driven home myself.”

  “It’s my pleasure, now let’s get you home and sorted out. If you give me your keys, I’ll have one of my team collect your car and bring it to you. You shouldn’t be driving in that condition anyway, do you hear.”

  He took hold of her elbow and guided her out of the ward and into the waiting elevator. She waited until the doors slid shut and turned to face him.

  “Did you talk to your boss?” She seemed concerned.

  “Yes. I went to see him right after our conversation and he’s authorised me to go and speak with Miss Oswell again.”

  “Is that all?” Her voice raised several octaves. “I’ve told you, Sandra and that kid are both there and you’re only going to talk to her.”

  “Calm down, Hilary. Please. I fully intend to seek Miss Oswell’s permission to search the house and grounds again, and if she refuses permission, I’ve got no hesitation in requesting a search warrant.”

  She seemed a little calmer now she was aware of his intentions.

  “I know you think I’m round the twist, but that woman is keeping Sandra prisoner there and she’s got the kid hiding down the well. She’s taken his eyes.”

  Andrew was worried which way the conversation was heading.

  “Come on, Hilary. Let’s take you home and then I can get over there and look around for myself.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Juliet watched Andrew Hope’s car pull up outside her home from the upstairs bedroom window.

  “Big fat pig,” she hissed, her hatred of him un
deniable. “I’d love nothing more than to string you up by the feet and cut your throat.” Her face flushed at the thought of bathing in his blood. “Mabel, go to the attic and wait until I come for you.”

  “Yes, mistress,” she whispered.

  Mabel rushed out of the room and waited on the landing. “Make certain the door is tightly shut. I’ve got a feeling our nosey detective is going to want to come in and snoop around again.”

  She watched with pride as Mabel crawled up the stairs.

  Listening out for the sound of the secret door locking shut, she glided down the grand staircase, the memories of over a hundred years ago, still fresh in her mind.

  Samantha opened the front doorway.

  “It’s good to see you.” Juliet leaned in to kiss her sister’s cheek.

  “And it’s good to see you as always, but please, come inside quickly. You can't risk being seen. Mark must never know you’ve been here.”

  Once safely inside, they embraced one another.

  “Why do you stay with him?”

  “He’s my husband.”

  “And he’s your son,” she pronounced, pointing at the young child stood in front of her.

  Tears welled up in Samantha’s eyes. “I’ve missed you, my beautiful boy.” She held out her arms and Luke rushed into her embrace. “And I wish we had longer together.”

  “This is foolishness.” Juliet wasn’t in the mood for diplomacy. “You should feed his heart to the local dogs, or better still, serve it for dinner. Being cowed by a man is an affront to our kind. I would have ripped his spleen out with my bare hands and made him eat it.”

  “Not in front of Luke, please. He’s just a child.”

  “Before long he’ll be a man and take his rightful place, but what will become of you, staying in this house with him and his child?”

  She could see Samantha was nervous.

  “Not now, Juliet. You know why I must remain here. You conveniently forget what Mark did when he rescued me all those years ago. Father was going to kill me, you know that. Mark offered me the chance of a normal life and I owe him.”