‘You didn’t,’ Maggie said. All she felt was relief. They both wandered into the living room, dazed.
‘I need to make a phone call.’ Sarah pulled her phone from her bag. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep Elliott out of it. But I think I know where Angelica Irving is.’
Maggie didn’t disagree. Her son hadn’t been wrong yet.
19
What’s normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.The words danced across my mind as I walked between strobes of flashlights on the path towards Blackhall Woods. My face was ruddy from the cold, and the moon was high in the sky. I managed to fix my face into the same look of dismay mixed with determination as those around me. I was good at blending into the background. A chameleon of sorts.
Several locals had turned out for the search as well as members of the police force. Word had spread quickly on Angelica’s Facebook page. But unlike everyone else who joined, I knew exactly where she was. The hems of my trousers were damp as I trod through the boggy ground.
Angelica was buried in these woodlands in a shallow grave camouflaged by broken branches. I could have walked the short distance from the grounds of Blackhall Manor to the encompassing woods, but I could not risk being seen. So I had laid her in the boot of the car, knees against her chest, grey mottled lips pressed against plastic sheeting until the time was right. Then I drove her deep into the woods. Beneath the cover of darkness, I unwrapped her from her plastic cocoon. I recalled the slice of my shovel and how easily it had parted the dark, moist soil. Then I set to work, methodically cutting and ripping, my gloves soaked with congealed blood as I completed the next steps of the game. I took no pleasure from it. Bodily fluids revolted me. They were even more unpleasant to deal with when they were cold.
By the time I shovelled dirt over her corpse, my thoughts had already moved forward. Now here I was amongst the search team, pretending to look for her. My hood up and my head down, I mixed with the locals who were blind to what was before their eyes. I was surprised to see the police still about. Detailed searches were usually carried out in daylight. Had they received a tip-off? There was purpose in their movements and they were using sniffer dogs.
The wind whipped around me as I reached the centre of the woods, the rain pitter-pattering on my coat. People were still calling Angelica’s name. I thrust my hands into my pockets and waited for her to be found. I was imagining the state of her when I saw Sarah Middleton’s pale face suddenly appear in the thick of the crowd. My heart beat a little faster. Down but not out … at least, not yet. I felt a thrill at what was to come.
She was shoulder to shoulder with a black police officer, deep in conversation as the pair negotiated the leaf-slick path. She was only a female sergeant, nobody of any great importance. The pair of them appeared to be having strong words. I tried to get closer, but I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. She was bound to be on her guard, given she had received my letter. I wish I could have seen her face when she read it. I knew she wouldn’t swallow those tablets. I didn’t want her to. There was only one way for her to die when the time came. My nostrils flared as a rush of anger enveloped me. She would regret ever coming back here. She should have stayed playing dead. I pulled my scarf up over my chin as another bluster of wind skinned my cheeks. Stumbling on a tree root, I regained my footing as I negotiated the dank earth. Bare branches creaked above me in the rising November winds.
A sudden rush of urgency. Sarah picked up speed before me, updating her police airwaves while other officers gestured at us to stay back. A signal went up, deep in the woodlands, exactly where I had buried her. Angelica had been found … but she was not the only player. I was not finished yet.
20
Monday, 4th November 2019
A cool breeze swept down the school corridor, chilling the flesh on Libby’s legs as she sat on her chair. It had been the school’s idea, bringing in a counsellor to help Angelica’s class with their grief, and now she was sitting in the hall, waiting her turn to go in. She only hoped Isobel and Bethany would hold their tongues.
‘Remember the pact,’ she’d whispered, as they were pulled from class to attend.If you tell, you’ll go to hell.The words on the invite had been more of a threat than a pact, but she had claimed it just the same. ‘We will if you will,’ Isobel had rasped in return. Now she was sitting with Jahmelia in the corridor waiting for them to come out. Piped whale music played from the tannoys; some weird new incentive to help the students keep calm. Even with all this, Libby couldn’t believe that Angelica was dead. It did not compute. Because if it fully sank in, Libby was the one to blame. She hadn’t sent out the invites, but she knew better than to visit Blackhall Manor in the dead of night. The others had looked to her for reason, yet instead of tracking Angelica down, she’d insisted they stay and play.
Had Angelica’s murderer been hiding in the shadows, watching them wander around the building with only a candle to guide their way? The killer could have chosen any one of them. She could not reconcile what she had done. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, the skin on her nose raw. She was meant to be the sensible one; now they would never see Angelica again. She replayed events in her mind as she tried to understand what had possessed her.
Everything about Slayton was boring. Just hanging out with Angelica had boosted her street cred no end. But she only went to Blackhall Manor because she thought Angelica had orchestrated it. Also, if she was brutally honest with herself, a little piece of her wanted to get one over on the girl who thought she was better than everyone else. She had read about houses in America where people paid to be scared out of their wits. The places weren’t really haunted, they were set up to look that way. But deep down she’d known Blackhall Manor wasn’t like that. People steered clear for a reason. She picked the bits of tissue which had fallen onto her skirt.
‘I’ve been having nightmares,’ Jahmelia whispered. ‘They’re so bad that I’m scared to go to sleep.’ She was rocking ever so slightly, her hands bunched into fists on her lap. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, and she looked even younger than she did before.
‘Me too.’ Libby checked up and down the corridor as she replied. ‘I keep dreaming we’re back there. I can’t get it out of my head.’
Jahmelia cast a sideways glance at her friend. ‘Mum and Dad have been grilling me … even Grandma’s been ringing me night and day!’ A pause. ‘He comes to me in my sleep, Libby – the Midnight Man. He’s going to get me. I’m next.’
‘You don’t believe that, do you, Jay?’ But her friend’s fearful expression relayed that she did. ‘Here.’ Libby reached into her schoolbag and pulled out a Mars bar from the front pocket. ‘Mum packed two in my lunchbox by mistake.’ She hadn’t, but Libby didn’t have the appetite for chocolate today.
‘Thanks,’ Jahmelia said, gratefully taking the snack. All Libby wanted to do was to curl up in bed. She tried to imagine what her parents would say, that there were no such things as supernatural beings, much less some ‘Midnight Man’ out to get her because she had played some stupid game. Butsomeone, orsomething, had murdered Angelica, and while her school friend may have been a pain, she couldn’t think of one person in Slayton who would set out to hurt her like that. Their invites were personalised. He knew each of them.
‘What do you think he did to her?’ Jahmelia said in a small voice, a fleck of chocolate on the side of her mouth. ‘Mum and Dad won’t tell me anything.’
Libby shrugged. She didn’t want to think about Angelica’s last moments, or how scared she must have been. If her parents found out what she’d been up to that night, they’d never trust her again. But it was nothing compared to what Angelica’s parents must be feeling. Slayton was a small town. The thought of bumping into them was too much to bear. She sniffled.
‘You can’t say anything. Remember the pact.’
‘If you tell, you’ll go to hell.’ Jahmelia swallowed hard, her eyes shiny with tears. ‘I looked it up online, Libs. If the Midnight Man catches you, he kills you and pulls out your insides,piece by piece.’
‘That’s crazy, stop panicking.’ Libby placed a hand on Jahmelia’s arm to quieten her friend as a group of sixth formers walked past. They delivered sympathetic looks before continuing towards the canteen. Each year group were identified by the colour stripe on their school uniform ties. Libby had been getting a lot of sympathy smiles today. But that would all change if they found out that she had carried on playing after Angelica disappeared. The thought brought fresh tears to Libby’s eyes. What happened to sisterhood? Her parents would be so ashamed if they knew. As for Angelica’s mum and dad …
Angelica’s family were powerful. The Irvings owned the company which employed her father, for a start. They would need someone to blame, and what if they blamed her entire family? Mr Irving could drive them out of town. She’d heard of it happening to other families. One wrong step and you lost everything you owned. Thoughts swirled like leaves in a whirlwind. There was no going back. They had stained their blood next to their names and invited the Midnight Man in. All she could hope for was that the prophecy was fulfilled. The game was over. It had to be. She would never play again.
21
Sarah brushed the crumbs from her lunchtime tuna sandwich off her trousers. She was sitting in the job car, parked up in Slayton police station car park, staring at the tall, grey building ahead. She’d once been so excited to work from this building, being a detective on her husband’s team. It seemed a much more interesting prospect than walking the streets in uniform or helping with scene guard. She’d passed her CID exams with flying colours. She knew she’d get flak for being married to her sergeant but it helped that she hadn’t taken his surname. If only that was all she’d had to contend with. She had no idea how bad things would get.
