Gabby appeared to scan the room. Their colleagues were head down at their desks, laser-focused on their tasks. Yvonne rose to close the window. Gabby’s voice lowered to a whisper. ‘If the DI finds out Jahmelia is my granddaughter, I’ll be taken off the case. So, keep it zipped for now. I need you with me on this.’
‘Absolutely,’ Sarah nodded. ‘Whatever you say.’ She plugged in her charger and attached her phone. But Gabby wasn’t finished with her yet.
‘You knew Libby was involved, didn’t you? That’s why you went to see Jahmelia. You know they’re as thick as thieves.’
The last thing Sarah wanted was Gabby charging head first in such a delicate situation. ‘I pieced it together when Elliott mentioned the Midnight Man. He probably overheard them talking about it when they were babysitting. How else would he have known?’ Sarah spoke softly, conscious that Yvonne was eyeing them both. ‘I babysat for Maggie last night. I asked Elliott if he knew anything more.’
‘And?’ Gabby searched Sarah’s face for answers. ‘What did he say?’
Sarah felt like she was walking a tightrope. A balancing act between loyalty towards Maggie and allegiance to her job. What good would come from telling Gabby that Elliott had seen a spooky Midnight Man in his dreams? That was back in the realms of the supernatural, and she knew how Gabby felt about that.
‘He was worried about Libby, he seems to think she played the game.’ Sarah recalled Elliott staring into the artificial flames.There’s fire.
‘And what did he say about Jahmelia?’ Gabby looked sick.
‘Nothing. He didn’t say anything. But given they were together that night …’ Sarah’s words trailed away.
This obviously wasn’t what Gabby wanted to hear. ‘You know as well as I do, Sarah, this killer is not going to stop. Jahmelia could be next.’ She glanced over Sarah’s shoulder for the second time. ‘Go back to Maggie’s. Find out what they know …’ Her words came to an abrupt halt as Yvonne approached.
‘I’ve got the fire inspector’s report. They’re blaming a candle which caught the curtains in Libby’s bedroom.’
‘That’s fine,’ Gabby said, waving Yvonne away. ‘Upload it to the system. I’ll view it online.’ Turning on her heels, Yvonne returned to her desk.
Sarah shuffled uncomfortably as she waited for instruction. ‘Um … Sarge, what is it you want me to do? I’m pretty sure Elliott’s told me everything he knows. I could try speaking to Jahmelia again …’
‘No chance. She’s on curfew. My delightful daughter won’t even letmenear her.’ Gabby’s fingers bit into her forearm as she pulled Sarah closer. ‘Visit Libby in hospital. Take Elliott with you. See if you can get either of them to talk. And think about that letter you showed me. There was nothing useful from forensics, but I might have been too quick to dismiss it.’ She released her grip. ‘Please. For Jahmelia. She’s not street smart like Libby. We need to get this bastard off the streets before he hurts anyone else.’ A look of understanding passed between them. ‘I’ve assigned you to making local enquiries for the next few hours. Whatever it takes, you have my blessing. Do what you can.’
Sarah knew better than to argue with her sergeant, but this felt off-grid. Her job was to commit words to paper and create a legible account. Having said that, it was satisfying, earning Gabby’s trust. If her sergeant needed her to pull out all the stops then she would. The thought of anything happening to Jahmelia was enough to spur anyone on. Libby had been lucky, but the Midnight Man would not make a second mistake.
31
Elsie relaxed as the front door clicked shut. Another visit from a police officer, albeit not a very nice one. Elsie saw the way she’d looked at her, with a mixture of pity and disgust. The police seemed very interested in her family of late. They said they had to take a statement to eliminate Christian from their enquiries because he was connected with Blackhall Manor. But Christian had been at work. Elsie wasn’t stupid. She knew when someone was digging. Still, she didn’t think she had anything to worry about. She relaxed back into her bed as her mind turned things over. She’d given them a full family history to steer the focus away from Christian. That had made the officer’s mascara-laden eyes pop. It had actually felt good to get things off her chest. She was adept at blocking out bad feelings. From a very young age, she implemented the coping mechanism to deal with those who forced their will upon her. Food was her anaesthetic and as her body expanded it had earned her the benefit of her father’s disgust.
Her eyes fell on the picture of her parents which taunted her from the yellowed wall. Why did she do this to herself, this form of self-flagellation? What sort of a masochist was she? Even now, after her parents were gone, their soulless eyes tortured her.A cleft in your chin instead of your foot, but no less a devil for that… The words of Sylvia Plath had imprinted themselves on her heart. Plath’s poem was imbued with such a sense of hatred for her father, it made Elsie feel a little less alone. Like Plath, she was killing herself too.
She glanced at the cats gathering around her bed and the trinkets crowding each dusty shelf. At the dog-eared books featuring muscle-bound heroes and the litter trays which carried an odour she had grown accustomed to. At the sweet wrappers, the crisp packets and litres of chocolate milk. This was her life. She was only as happy as she had a right to be.
Silence, close your eyes, kneel.
The bones of a memory returned as the words echoed from the corridors of her mind: the red velvet cushion introduced to their weekly sessions after her teacher noticed her knees were grazed. Then afterwards, her mother entering the room and tidying the cushion away. Out of sight, out of mind – at least, for another week. The most hurtful betrayal was her mother’s blind eye to her father’s weekly ‘blessings’ which carried on long after Elsie was old enough to understand they were wrong. There was no peace when Elsie closed her eyes. In her darkest hours she could still hear the rasping sound of her father’s zip being undone. His heavy breath as his hand guided hers, shouting both prayers and obscenities as he demanded she follow his instruction to ‘cleanse her soul by releasing the power of his righteous seed’.
With a creeping sense of horror she wondered about her son.What if he remembered what he saw?The question made her grip her blankets and draw them up to her chest. Her bed was her safe place. Nobody could see her here. She was invisible to the world. But what if Christianhadremembered? He was just four years old the night he hid in her room, a silent witness to her father’s evil. Nobody knew he was there until it was too late. It was over twenty years ago. What if the sight had planted a compulsion which grew into something black and evil – a sickness he could not control? Was that the real reason why the police were snooping around? Did they think Christian was involved in that awful Midnight Game the poor girls had played? The question was insistent, tugging on the skirts of her consciousness for an answer. She had bigged up her son, gushing about how heroic he’d been. But who was she trying to convince? What if Christian wasn’t Libby’s saviour after all?
She thought back to Halloween night, to when he’d changed the batteries in her novelty clock. She had given her son an alibi, saying he’d been home at midnight. But was it midnight when Christian noticed their damaged garden gate? And why had he encouraged her to report such a minor thing to the police? She hadn’t heard any kids messing about, much less seen them take her gate off its hinges. Christian had been awfully quiet in his room that night. It was almost as if he wasn’t there.
On the surface, he was a good boy, always willing to lend a hand. But like her, he had an addictive personality. Christian’s compulsion wasn’t food, it was computer games. One in particular.Beyond the Darkness. It was about a bunch of teenagers trapped in a creepy hotel. One by one, a ghostly figure picked them off.
It wasn’t just the game that made Elsie uneasy, it was Christian’s growing resemblance to his father. What if he’d taken on his personality? He was an evil man. Christian couldn’t help what he was. But at least he knew the truth. Elsie sighed. It had not been easy, explaining his parentage last year, but he had seemed to take it OK.
She paused to drink from the bottle on her table. It was a small but positive step, replacing chocolate milk with water. With help from Sarah, there was hope on the horizon. She was starting to imagine a way out of the prison she had created for herself. But not before she put her mind at rest about her son. She could have a little peek in his room. Her imagination was probably running away with her, and he wouldn’t like it if he knew, but one look couldn’t do any harm.Still …she thought, as she lumbered out of bed.It’s like climbing Mount Kilimanjaro.
It had been years since she’d ventured upstairs, so Christian had no need to lock his bedroom door. Her eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. She had at least an hour before he returned home for lunch. She forced one foot before the other as she shuffled towards the stairs. Already, sweat was beading her brow.One step at a time,she told herself. She was in no rush. With each stair, she paused for breath, heaving herself up. ‘C’mon Elsie,’ she encouraged herself as she gasped for air. ‘You got this.’ She was almost there.
At the top stair, she bent over, feeling like someone had lit a bonfire between her chafed thighs. She rubbed a clammy hand over her chest. Her heart felt like it was going to near on pop out. ‘Almost there,’ she gasped, pressing her hand against the wall for support. The carpet was thick with dirt and cat hairs, and there was a stink wafting from the bathroom. Why had she turned such a blind eye to housekeeping? Her parents would roll over in their graves. She only noticed the bulb on the landing had been removed when she tried to turn it on. Squinting, she adjusted her eyes to the dim light. Every door on the landing was closed.
Standing outside Christian’s room, she asked herself if she really wanted to enter uninvited. Judging from the rest of upstairs, it would not be in a good state. But this was about more than housekeeping. What was he doing up here? The door swung open against her weight, and she gripped the frame for support. Slack-jawed, her eyes danced around the mess. The space was dark and stuffy, the blinds shut tight. She stared at the map of Slayton pinned to the wall. At the pictures of Blackhall Manor and the accompanying woodlands. What did he want with those? Her nose wrinkled at the smell of leftover food piled on plates next to his bed. He hadn’t been eating healthy at all. This was worse than downstairs … The stale air made her want to open the window. Her eyes fell on the weights in the corner of the room. To the barbell next to them on the floor. So that was how he’d grown so strong. She flicked on the light and fear bloomed, large and ugly, as she caught sight of a hooded figure standing in front of the wardrobe. Elsie wheezed, her chest tight. She needed to get out. Blinking a second time, she realised that it was just a cloak hung on the door of the wardrobe. ‘Gosh darn it,’ she said, her hand falling to her chest in relief. But why was it there? What was it for? She’d heard of gameplay but … Shuffling over, fuelled by curiosity, she lifted the worn sleeve, yelping in horror as an earwig slid onto her hand. Something about this room was all wrong. She needed to get out. To call Christian this instant and demand he tell her what was going on. She reluctantly turned her gaze back to the hood. He couldn’t be mixed up in any of this Midnight Man silliness, could he?
Sweat prickled her brow. She was feeling none too good. The climb upstairs had taken it out of her. She needed to get back to her bed. Turning off the light she headed towards the stairs, vowing to make Christian clean his room up. Her mind swirling with thoughts, she did not see her cat Toni at her feet until it was too late. As she lifted her foot to avoid her, she missed the first, second and third step. Grasping for the banister, she cried out in pain as she bumped and crashed her way down the stairs. ‘Oww!’ she screamed, before the breath was forced from her lungs. Stars exploded in her vision as she was thrown to the ground. A low moan escaped her lips as she lay on her back, staring at the cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling that she had never got around to cleaning. As her cats gathered near her, Elsie closed her eyes, surrendering to the darkness as it dragged her in.
